The Riders and the Outcasts

by NijuuHachi

Changing Berk's history, the new Riders follow in the footsteps of their mentor, Hiccup, as she travels far to study new dragons, make friends and encounter foes from her lost past. With Toothless by her side, she challenges the world, her fate, image and future on an island where she rules as queen. Based on the DreamWorks film, How to Train Your Dragon. Thank you & please enjoy.

21. Chapter 21

Hello again. After over a year of personal difficulties and struggles, I wish to apologize to all who've waited more than patiently, and hope this chapter was worth the delay. Hopefully, this year will be brighter and I thank you so much for your support, understanding, and kindness. In this chapter, plans don't go as they seem as our heroes race against the clock before their holiday blows up in their faces while calmer shores coil their time for the precise moment to strike. Posting this chapter 8/1/2016. A big thank you to Warrior Nun for being a patient and wonderful beta-reader. Thank you and please enjoy.

…

"I can't believe him."

Fishlegs pouted as he and his fellow dragon riders viewed the damage done to the makeshift dragon pen he had constructed for his Gronckle. Whole fish littered the wooden plank floor leaving the potent flavor of sea brine and wood chippings in the air while the iron chain he had used to restrain the captive drake was haphazardly contorted like tin wire and the sturdy support beam that kept the shack together was nearly split and splintered towards the bottom where the most force had been placed when Meatlug escaped.

Honestly, Fishlegs felt a tad bit offended by not only the escape of his beloved dragon but also due to the fact he had not even settled on a single bite of food before his departure since - he had become quite finicky with eating for the past few days. He had worked so hard to keep Meatlug as comfortable as humanly possible as well as silent, even though all the constant groaning and wailing he had been up to the previous night that nearly roused several villagers to the area. Who would have thought Gronkles could be so ungrateful?

"You can't believe HIM?! YOU KIDNAPPED YOUR OWN DRAGON!" Aarne on the other hand was far from trying to keep his composure and it showed as he violently backhanded the husky teenager's upper forearm, sending a loud clap into the air and leaving a visible bloodshot mark on his pale flesh.

"Well that makes it sound mean…" the taller blond rubbed his sore and well deserved wound in a meek tone. He had already been given an earful by the chief and a less than pleased Mrs. Larson who took it upon herself to pinch his right ear's helix with all the force of a vengeful Valkyrie, the soft tissue from his still tender skin throbbed with radiated heat from the mere memory of her incredible strength.

As the two blonds bickered back and forth over semantics and the idea of "justifiable kidnapping", Ruffnut's attention was drawn elsewhere as grayish light from the damaged ceiling brightened the room and bounced onto the high stack of hay near the far end of the unit as if it were spun gold. It wasn't just the naturally gilt twine that peeked her interest however, it was the dark-bluish hue within that gleamed ever so vaguely and ominously that caused her to tilt her head in wonder and bewilderment.

Tapped her brother's shoulder for assistance, she gestured to the clumped pile of hay and while Tuffnut didn't like being shoved he couldn't help but comply to her demands once his eyes focused onto several odd formations hidden beneath the thick patches of brittle threads that had captured her alertness.

Cautiously, they tunneled through the straw fibers like booby-trapped buried treasure and stilled their breaths as they each brushed away thin layers of stocks with each passing second, the surface growing faintly warmer as they continued to excavate and upon sight of their newly found bounty paused with both silence and revelation.

"Hey, guys…" Tuffnut called out towards the still bickering males behind them.

"HE FLEW AWAY THE SECOND HE WAS UNLEASHED!" Aarne snarled as thick veins from his neck bulged outward in pulsing frustration as he gestured outwards towards the wide open pen doors that were nearly blown from their hinges.

Aarne was fuming. Of all the low down, insubordinate, and irresponsible things… He would have expected something like this from Snotlout, maybe even the twins, but Fishlegs? The guy who preached about his extensive dragon knowledge had actually gone behind everyone's back and chained his own Gronckle, after all they had been through. And he got it, he had wished Stormfly stayed and hadn't left, but never, on his life, would he have forced her to stay against her own will, especially with shackles. He thought Fishlegs was better than that and now not only was Meatlug gone, but he happened to take along an unwilling hitchhiker.

How could his morning get any worse?

"I'm seventy-two percent sure he wanted to stay!" Fishlegs defended in an irked tone.

"GUYS!" Tuffnut barked with growing annoyance while his sister kneeled in awe at the sight within the bustles of straw.

Lowering their stalemate glares and heated tempers both turned their attention towards the twins and their new discovery slowly, Fishlegs letting out an awkward chuckle, not really knowing what to do or even say for such a situation.

"Whoa, Meatlug barfed up a pile of rocks." He said looking to a bizarre blue cluster of ovate boulders all about the size of cantaloupes.

"You're such an idiot," Ruffnut eased out with no restraint as she rolled of her eyes. "Those aren't rocks, your dragon laid eggs!"

As if that detail was still working its way into Fishlegs' mind he remained silent while Aarne took a knee and lifted one of the surprisingly light eggs to eye level and gradually felt his tensed shoulders and breath lax from the news. Everything was piecing itself together inside his head and within a flash his pale cheeks glowed peachy with an accompanying pearly grin.

"Hey, I bet that's where the dragons went, to lay their eggs!" he voiced out brightly.

"But, boy dragons don't lay eggs." Fishlegs aimed to correct.

"Yeah, you're 'boy' dragon, is a girl dragon." Ruffnut debunked bluntly with her hands resting casually on her hips.

"Okay! That actually explains a few things…" Fishlegs' voice slightly cracked as his fingers curled and uncurled. Flashbacks of Meatlug and Goliath roughhousing together played through his head over and over, bringing his plump cheeks from a flushed pink to a crimson red. He really should have seen the fairly obvious sights. Oh, he felt so ashamed.

Not really paying much heed to the others, a flicker of inspiration bubbled into thought, "Hey! Everyone's missing their dragons, right?" Aarne quizzed with a quick rise from his kneeling position, egg still firmly nestled in palm, as he dashed over to one end of the storage unit where a basket of craft supplies lay.

"Ugh, here it comes…" Snotlout groaned with slacked shoulders and head. Weren't they as a whole put through enough punishment as it was? First, their dragons up and leave, than Aarne's yaknog - which turned out not to be yaknog at all- had him and half the village give a special visit to Gothi for some of her cure-all tonic (which by the way tasted like bitter lemon skin and liquorice), Gustav gets hijacked by Fishlegs' Gronckle who also busted the roof of the storage hut, to which they had to repair as punishment. He didn't know if he could handle anymore of Aarne's "holiday cheer" right at this moment, he was barely getting the swelling over his punched eye reduced.

"I've got an idea…" Aarne chimed. With his back turned to them, the velvety sound of fabric hissing against itself made their toes curl before he spun back around to present the dull bumpy Gronckle egg wrapped in a perfectly tied bow of red ribbon like a precious package. "It'll be another new Snoggletog tradition!"

A thankful sigh of relief escaped the remaining riders. For once it seemed one of Aarne's "new" traditions wasn't completely terrible or would cause them anymore physical pains or psychological scarring. What could be more celebratory than the gift of sharing little miracles to their fellow Hooligans? After all, that was what the Snoggletog season was all about, not fancy drinks (if you can call whatever he concocted that) or petrified severed digits hanging from string.

Nodding in silent agreement, each grabbed an egg and began to adorn each with festive string, sprigs of pine and cones, or whatever else they could scrape up from the shed while Fishlegs swept away the mess as was his punishment and before they could say "yaknog" they had a clutch of adorably decorated eggs ready to be delivered to all the unsuspecting villagers of Berk.

With eggs assigned to each rider, Aarne jittered with excitement as they each made their way out the damaged hut before dispatching in different directions with snickering faces and light footings, "Oh, this is gonna be so good!"

Mission set forward, they each passed the still dazed villagers looking towards the heavens for Gustav and Meatlug's fading shadow in the distance with ease and planted their secret surprises inside the overturned empty helmets seated atop the mantelpieces within villagers homes and while they couldn't possibly present each and every Berkian citizen with a dragon egg, they made sure to evenly disperse them in every directions, from Gobber's workshop to the wordless sheep herder, Silent Sven's farmhouse far off from the main community.

This was surely going to be a Snoggletog surprise no one would be expecting.

With lifted spirits Aarne silently slipped into his own house, carefully place a special Gronckle egg dressed with a golden ring centered within a crisp scarlet bow into the tilted and worn helmet of his departed uncle Finn before making a silent blessing and beamed as he panned to the three portraits above the heavily decorated fireplace.

"Happy Snoggletog everyone… Don't worry, I'm not gonna let Berk's holiday spirit burn out."

…

When Gustav decided he was going to venture off of Berk in search of his missing companion he had originally planned to ferry a boat. Fate, like the cruel mistress she is, said otherwise as he was now zooming through the open airways on the back of a faster-than-average Gronckle with no clear inclination of stopping or specific direction. Once they reached Dragon Island territory he at least had some indication of where they were but after dodging a clouded jungle of sea stacks, old rotting Viking ships every which way all while trying to desperately grip onto Meatlug for dear life before elevating to the hazard-free skies, his bearings and overall sense of general direction was lost and no matter how hard he tried to coax him for answers in the best Dragonese he could muster it became evident the rock headed Gronckle had zoned him out and was basically functioning on some instinctual autopilot towards the far south.

Coming to the conclusion he was not going to be able to get through to him until they reached their finally destination, Gustav used the length of rope he still had over his shoulders as reins to better secure himself and rested his head over the rough scales of the Gronckle for what felt like hours.

Passing the time he wondered how Fanghook was doing. Was he getting enough to eat? Was his serum-filled scale still working for him? Did he miss Gustav like he missed him? Honestly he wished he knew and he desperately wanted Meatlug to fly below the cloud line so he could at least try to scope out his friend, wherever he may be. Thoughts ran into his mind that told him they might have passed him or that he could possibly be just ahead of them; he wasn't sure. All he knew was Fanghook was somewhere out there and all he could do was sit quietly on the back of a steadfast Gronckle and watch as the world passed under him.

…

The cool blue waters of the Rookery dazzled like piercing silver while below the pristine waves two adult Thunderdrums clustered off a fair portion of haddocks away from a traveling school into a condensed bubble.

Formation set, Hiccup and Toothless, along with many other hunting scouts, dove down towards the spiraling sphere in a synchronized dance of predatory grace where dozens upon dozens of plump morsels that shared her family namesake were captured between talon and teeth before resurfacing to the awaiting chatter of hungry mouths and eager cheer.

With the wide abundance of wild fish and sea foliage bordering the crescent-shaped island Hiccup could easily understand why such a place was ideal for raising hatchlings and just how special it was as she and Toothless carried still flapping haddocks into their cool cave after dividing shares for the rest of the hive. Under the age of Hope - as the older generation of dragons like to call it - the young hatchlings wouldn't have to experience the pains of hunger, cruel scorching destruction, and the harsh grip of slavery and instead would be blessed with full bellies, warmth, and a freedom that was fought for with blood, fire, and tears. They'd be able to thrive and not have to live in a world of terror and darkness; and while to other creatures like the unbound phoenix to the wild wind spirits such things may be seen as trivial and not worth any value, it's greatest wealth however can only be understood by those who have lived through the torment and survived with stories to pass down to the youths.

And while Hiccup knew the age of dragon killing was still in reign on a global scale and true change took time, she was honored nonetheless to be a part of this turning point in dragon history as not only a human but as a friend.

"Hope they're in the mood for some haddock and clay," Hiccup smiled as she and Toothless entered the brisk cave and lowered a hefty net of fresh fish next to the resting Death.

"Thank you, my dear," Etch bowed lightly before churning her saw-like teeth over the mound, emulsifying each portion of flesh, scale, and bone into the soil till it blended into a smooth surf and literal turf pâté, to which her young eagerly dove into with their still slack jaws and ever rotating fangs.

It was such a strange and oddly endearing sight, seeing the three Whispering Death pups used their spinning teeth to conveyer belt the gritty and briny mixture into their mouths while their younger but significantly larger pale brother chomp through the meal with vigorous intent. Until they and many of the other newborn dragons grew out of their baby fangs, they'd be given mashed meals until graduating to much more solid food, and in the case of the Whispering Deaths that would mean pure, unrefined earth and stone.

Once Hiccup was satisfied Etch and her young were properly fed, she went about her way to make her own lunch of peppery greens, mixed nuts, and dried fruits with an accompanying cup of fresh water when a heavy shadow of vibrating weight fell over her head. As the semi-firm clay eagerly swallowed her metal leg Hiccup adjusted accordingly to not only her faltering frame but to the rattling quakes of affectionate hums that tickled her spine and eardrums from the ever indulgent alabaster Death.

"He's certainly taken a shining to you," Toothless mildly sneered as he wolfed his share of whole haddock.

"I just hope Berk will take to him like I have. He's just a big chalky hunk of sweetness." Hiccup cooed, giving the kindly rumbling dragon a hearty chin rub as she tried to keep her balance.

Honestly, that was one of her biggest concerns. Would Berk even want all these new dragons, who for the most part were sweet and cuddly, they were also new and foreign to them? In the past, baby dragons were hunted with far more prejudice as their vulnerable forms made them easier targets, their scales not yet fully harden for protection and their wings too frail to commence in flight and surrey away. She remembered as a child seeing ships dock with freshly slaughtered hordes of limp, lifeless infant dragons drawn by their hind legs like skinned rabbits for sport, each Viking bragging and displaying their gains to all like a celebration to behold. It was a horrible sight then and far more sickening now with the new age. After such scarred history, she wasn't sure if the parent dragons would take kindly to other humans approaching their young. Would they react much like a mother bear when defending she cubs or would everything be alright and she was just panicking and worrying for no reason? Honestly, she hoped for the latter. Since their hatching she worked on getting the little ones to be welcoming of human interaction as much as she could with light chin touches and nuzzling and for the most part they took to it with great enthusiasm and cravings for more but from the opposing spectrum she couldn't bring herself to be too firm with them as far as restrictions were concerned seeing as the elder dragons did their best to keep them in line. Of course she had the utmost of faith and trust in her people now that they were growing more acquainted with dragons in their daily lives and Vikings into the dragons, she just couldn't help but harbor reserved anxieties over the situation.

"While your reservations are indeed warranted, my dear Hiccup, I can assure you my sweet little Chalk here will find no ill regards by your fellow Berkian brethren lest they wish to invoke the wrath of a scornful mother Whispering Death. Nevertheless, I'm sure they'll find witnessing dragon maturity to be an experience to never forget. These may be times of peace between our people, but we can never forget the injustice brought on between our species. We can only hope for a better outcome than that of the past." Etch said as she preened her three daughters with her needle-like tail.

"Chalk…?" Toothless questioned, completely disregarding the wise elders words of insight, although in her defense she expected nothing less from him.

"Yes, Chalk. Resilient, useful, versatile - qualities of which you clearly lack - and finally I find the name fitting to suit his appearance with the added bonus of chalk being a deriving component of soapstone, which historically has been a key element in everyday Viking and global culture from the arts to the sciences. Do keep up with current and past events Toothless, you might actually learn a thing or two." Etch nonchalantly remarked with a raised near nonexistent nose to the ceiling.

If there was one thing he hoped for, it was that her 'sweet little Chalk' didn't end up a stuck-up pain in his side like his mother dearest since he was already a blatant momma's boy and girlfriend snatcher.

Before any snide backtalk could escape Toothless' biting fangs, gusts from large wings lifted loose dust from the entry way of the cave into the chamber, wafting a cloud of peppery haze into the eyes and nose of the pale Death who let out a less than pleased sneeze that brought him and the young queen below him to the ground.

"Goliath? What's wrong?" Hiccup asked on alarm, soothing Chalk as best she could from underneath his bulky weight while trying to focus on the wide-eyed titan-wing panting up a storm.

"She's here…"

…

Noon.

It wasn't until the warmth from the midday sun scorched his dark hair out of slumber and the once frigid air turned balmy did he realize they were far beyond the sanctuary of the Barbaric and were venturing towards the far southwestern region of the world did a quizzer of fear run down his spine. After adjusting his stiff frame to a riding position he scoped the heavy clouded skies surrounding him and the searing sun for several seconds before coming to a grim realization that he and Meatlug were definitely far from the Archipelago borderlands, in fact, it seemed they may have been soaring towards the west.

He took a moment to let that sink in.

Not many Viking clans laid territories his far out west, which he supposed was a good thing considering he was riding on the back of a dragon, but they tended to steer clear of these waters for good reasons. Tales of giant underwater creatures that ruthlessly devoured ships like guppies and wild cyclones that crumbled fleets to sawdust kept even the most experienced sailors at bay and even Hiccup, who had traveled close to the southwestern edge, had written about the area with an air of cautionary fright.

Legends and myths were birthed over these waters, many of which were foretold to be true and Gustav was far from keen to be a part of those tales.

If it wasn't for the soothing hum of Meatlug's tiny wings and the whistling fife of wind speeding through his eardrums, Gustav would've be begging him to turn back or even reconsider this journey, but all his anxieties turned to befuddlement when after several endless hours the clouds began to break and the image of a crescent-shaped island teeming with wild flying dragons came into view.

Of all the places he had conjured in thought involving the destination of this journey, he could honestly say one of them wasn't being dragged to what looked like a former volcanic island in the middle of nowhere with wild dragons. From his current height the land seemed somewhat comical in appearance, like an overcrowded ant covered leaf floating down a stream towards nowhere.

As they drew closer, his thoughts shifted from humor to intrigue and only furthered his gawking as the landmass became more defined.

It was beautiful.

The coral reef under the sapphire waters dazzled like underwater chandeliers and he could make out each bright and matte color that marbled the crescent isle like it was a floating geode giving it an almost enchanting and inviting aura. For a moment he wondered if he was still on Earth or if he had somehow managed to cross into some strange new world that only dragons could venture off to and be, much like how he had once thought of Dragon Island, with the only difference being how relatively open and serene the place seemed.

However, despite the miraculous view, the lingering feeling that this was going to be his last adventure tickled the back of his spine in the most chilling of ways.

He was allowed very little time to feel either worry or interest as Meatlug made a quick and less than subtle dash down towards the earth with a whiplashing halt that caused them to skid slightly onto the tightly packed dry dirt with as much grace as a drunken yak. Needless to say the sudden and sharp ringing in his ears would last him till the end of winter, but that's a completely different story altogether. Right now though, he was more concerned with getting his bearings as he hopped off of Meatlug who began to venture off to Thor knows where, leaving him on his own with to deal with his newfound vertigo before everything began to turn less fuzzy from the loss dust to vibrant and that was when he finally got the chance to marvel at the lunar-shaped atoll he was on and the wonders it beheld from his sea cliff view.

Ranging from the common Terrors to Zippleback to the more elusive breeds like Boneknappers and Snaptrappers, the island was simply teeming with diversity like a literal cornucopia of drakes.

For a long while Gustav was speechless, he hadn't been this surprised since he first found out Hiccup rode dragons.

As his eyes scoped the island from one end to the other the faintest of cries filled the airway and with careful observation caught sight of tiny Nadder hatchlings bobbing their heads up and down from within one of the many nests before being fed a regurgitated slurry by their mother while a neighboring Gronckle family snuggled close together as one little daring calf hover-bumped its grinning father with accomplishing pride.

"You guys come here to have babies…" Gustav finally whispered to himself in fascination. "Whoa…"

"Gustav?"

The abrupt voice startled him briefly and forced a small flinch from his still recovering body, but it was clearer than the afternoon skies that that voice could only belong to one person in the world.

"Hiccup?"

Turning to face right, his smile grew as they paced towards each other for an awaiting embrace as well as tenderly exchanges of welcomes, praises and near tears.

Giving an end to their long hug Gustav went over to Toothless by her side, giving him an equally deserving embrace before the too separated.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Hiccup beamed as she ran her fingers through his heated wild dark locks that pricked up in places like an alert porcupine. "Aren't you supposed to be on Berk celebrating Snoggletog with everyone?" she asked as she did her usual scan over his face and arms for bruise marks and scraps. Old habits die hard it seems and asides from a slightly swollen neck and fading puffy eye he appeared to be in good health. "Where's Fanghook?"

"It's a long story…" Gustav sighed looking over her shoulder. "You…you haven't seen him, have you?"

Hiccup could sense the distress in his voice and the ache of sorrow in his eyes. Something wasn't right.

Giving him a light shake of the head she led him further into the fray of countless wild dragons who stared at him with curious looks while the local Berkian flocks greeted him with basic Dragonese words of welcome and hellos.

Once they cleared their way to the open cave where the Deaths were nesting both Vikings took seat onto a large stone and began to relay to each other all that was happening to them since their last interaction over a well-deserved drink and meal.

"What is this place?" Gustav finally asked, a shiver racing down his spine as he witnessed the giant pale Death coil its tail protectively and near possessively around her.

Eyes brightening, Hiccup shot him a wide smile.

"Welcome to the Rookery…"

…

Helen Larson wasn't too sure what emotion she felt first. Was she mad her son, yet again, put it upon himself to wander off without a proper farewell or warning of his departure? Sure some can argue that he had left a note, but a little "I'll be back" does absolutely nothing to lessen the worries and anxieties of a Viking mother - nay any mother - with a child Hel-bent on trying to grow up too quickly and giving her mild heart attacks. Of course she loved that Gustav was a very independent, knowledgeable, and adventurous young boy, that wasn't the problem, it was that at those moments when he wasn't there and was out where ever in the terrible, terrible world being reckless with his health and safety, she couldn't do anything to protect him. She would do anything, anything for Gustav if it was within her power.

He was her little boy, and just the thought that he could end up hurt or worse terrified her.

Was she frightened of the dangers he could possibly find out there? There were terrors far more menacing than dragons beyond their boarders, from unruly slave traders to monsters that mere discretion could not surmise to their colossal brutality. Of course their world was teeming with wilds and perils of their own but at least on Berk she felt he was relatedly safe and with dragons now a part of their Viking culture as friends, not as foes, that certainly made their little slice of the globe feel safer in a way.

Did she feel a certain sense of relief in the fact that he was with a dragon (at least she hoped they were still together)? Gustav had learned much from his time with dragons and she was confident in his abilities, but still this was a Berkian dragon he was with. What if down the line they run into wild ones, and not just one, but an entry nest? What then? She tried not to focus on the negatives, even if they were still a possibility, she had to remain calm.

Calm. It was so difficult to remain calm at a time like this.

She could understand what Stoick must have felt when Hiccup had left, and while she was much older than Gustav and the circumstance to their departures were very different, the pain, worry and fright were the same.

The pain of losing your child…

The worry for their safety and wellbeing…

The fright that they may never come back…

The overall feeling that a part of yourself, was gone…

It could all happen in a flash…

When she first heard the news that her son had been shanghaied by a Gronckle out of the blue, she had been enjoying her time quaintly in the Great Hall, helping with making buttery pie crusts and wondering which dessert she and her son would enjoy more after their holiday meal, as was their tradition. She still had some home preparations of her own to finish at home like filling Gustav's helmet to the brim with little treats and goodies, but he had yet to produce it and had spent the past three days sulking over Fanghook flying off on him. She tried not to pressure him with the task as she knew what it was like to lose a dear friend and did her best to cheer him up as best she could and for the most part he put on a genuine smile for her, even occasionally - if for a moment - forgetting about all his troubles and dragons as if they were nothing must myth and passing doubts, but she knew once she turned her back on him his grin would slowly deflate to a grimace and sadness would envelope his eyes once more.

And then it hit her, the flash.

The doors to the Great Hall thundered open as panicked men and women rushed in, there arms flailing in the air and shouting for her by name. Naturally this would rattle any person and she quickly realized something was afoot, but it was once she heard the words 'Gustav', 'Gone' and 'Taken' slip out of their mouths like tons of rubble did her world crumble. She blindly dropped the piping hot frying pan of freshly baked gooseberry pie in hand to the stone floor and without even reacting to the stinging burn from the splattered filling over her exposed calves above her boots and dress rushed out of the building in a frenzy as all the most horrible fears she kept bottled up inside surfaced and took over.

It had taken Stoick, Gobber, and six other burly Vikings nearly all their strength to restrain the wild woman before she finally calmed down once certain matters were cleared up and facts fully explained, but not before giving one final punch to several of the men's noses for holding her back. Once her emotions were collected, she found young Fishlegs Ingerman and gave him the most collective brutal verbal scolding in the history of ever, her colorful words so sharp and venomous they could even make a sailor blush.

After finally coming to terms with everything that had transpired did she feel the gross sticky sting over her flesh and was treated for her burns where Gobber - bless his heart - helped her back home and made her a soothing pot of tea.

"I know you're worried about Gustav, Helen, we all are, but in light of everything at least he wasn't'-" Gobber tried to reassure as he poured her a brew of chamomile with a small chunk of honeycomb on the side for dipping.

"Don't even go there," Helen calmly snapped before taking her cup in hand.

"You can't keep him in the dark about this forever, you know that."

"I know, it's just, I want him to be safe and my little boy for as long as I can help it…" her voice softened. "It's almost been ten years and each day since then I've feared for him. He's headstrong like any Viking, but he's so much more…and that's what worries me."

"You're more scared of what he might find?" Gobber asked.

"I'm scared he'll learn the truth before I have the chance to explain everything… He's only nine, Gobber, and there is only so much I can guide him through in life as his mother. One day he'll start asking all those questions I don't think I'm prepared to answer and the scary part is not knowing whether he will accept them or entirely reject me and go off on his own."

For a while there was a silence between them, the cracking pops of the fire pit the only communication left to fill the void.

"Helen, you have done an excellent job raising your son on your own all these years. You've protected him, but in the end that was all you've been doing, sheltering. Just look at all the things he's been able to do now in such a short time once he realized his potential. He's gotten stronger, he's not afraid to stand up for what he believes in, and most of all he's made real friends who will protect him at all costs, both Viking and dragon."

Helen understood. She loved how she son was now smiling more and had a responsibility that only he could do and at the same time it felt like she was reliving a long-lived nightmare where a very similar young Viking with great potential was taken from their world.

To those who seek potential in others, means profit, and when profit can be gained off of their potential, power and control follows; in a world where those with the greatest power reign with steel and thousand man armies, peril falls to the rest of humanity.

Sipping away the final drops of tea, Helen placed her cup down and looked to the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She didn't really keep many items up there, only special items that she kept close to her heart. There was the oblong shaped vase Gustav had made for her when he tried pottery for the first time, her families traditional Snoggletog log that still kept the wax markings from the candles her great grandparents used on their first holiday night, and to the far right under a glass cover was a lobster claw necklace made of a strange greenish metal that was given to her many years ago by her dearest and most beloved friend with the insignia of a gold and black axe on one claw and a slim war hammer of mirroring colors on the other and when both halves connected together via a complex slide lock both images crossed to form a seal of a civilization long passed.

The one item missing was her son's helmet, and in affect so was he.

She knew he would come back, after all, he said so on his note and Gustav had yet to give her false hope on anything he set his mind to. As much as she wanted to keep her baby boy to herself, she also wanted him to soar and be able to live a free and happy life. Taking a deep breath Helen brought a smile to her face and let her shoulders relax. Gustav would come back, and when he did, he'll come back her young man.

Until then, she'd wait, like she had done for another for so many years…

…

It wasn't very often that Toothless found an opportunity to find flaws in Etch's "immaculate" nature, but today, oh today he was glad he caught wind of this little tidbit of information. Had Gustav not come to the Rookery by fate, he and Hiccup would have probably been bombarded with the same strange questions he had been forced to endure since the dragons left the north. He could only imagine the utter shock the humans must have felt to see thousands of dragons soaring above the clouds like it was some sort of approaching armada of scales and fire, even worse for the non-Berkian clans who to their knowledge were still on war with them.

It seemed even Etch was stunned by what Gustav had said, how no one on Berk saw this coming or expected it to happen, even when she absolutely swore to the rains in the skies and the grass on the Earth that she had explicitly relayed the necessary information to Gothi. In the end however, it seems even the simplest of things could become lost in translation as many of the olden words she knew had lost their original meaning or were replaced to mean something else so when she had written 'We'll be heading west to birth our hatchlings' it translated to 'The western islands have drifted away'. While this made absolute no sense to Gothi at the time it wasn't uncommon to learn many of the Archipelago isles had shifted over the course of a century or two so she simply nodded understandingly and wrote she understood, making Etch feel her task had been completed.

Clearly, both needed to brush up on their syllabary.

"This whole 'keeping up with current and past events' things, does that also include writing?" Toothless smugly smirked with a rattling laugh to the still ever prideful Death.

"Clearly human error is to blame, but I too admit to making a minor misjudgment on my behalf. Really, Toothless, I wouldn't be acting so cocky. Let me see you relay a perfectly translated sentence in a dead language to someone who has only lived long enough to know bits and pieces of it."

"You could have written the message in Norse if it was too complicated for you olden folks, or do you think you'd also manage to screw that up too?" Toothless continued to tease, he was having far too much fun with this.

"Technically, while my message was misinterpreted, it was nevertheless truthful and correct. The western isles have shifted dramatically over the past century and such information to a seafaring society such as the Berkians is quite useful in terms of navigation. As for my choice in writing style it is a matter of personal preference on behalf of Gothi herself, being as she refuses to lose touch with her long-stemmed culture and my respect for that decision. That seems to be a word lost to your vocabulary: respect… Some other words I can think of off the top of my head are humility, decency, integrity; I could go on but then we'd be here till next season. Silver lining in all this, I'm still right while you're still a bantering pretentious prick."

At this point it was a game between them, and if Toothless showed she was rattling his cage, she'd win, and he was not about to give her the satisfaction of that. So instead of the usual snicker and snide he'd give to her after each of their debacles, he simply continued to grin politely during her entire length speech before sprouting out the words, "Good for you." Needless to say she was greatly irked by this gesture and quickly flicked her tail out in annoyance.

He won this round.

While Toothless and Etch kerfuffled in their usual fashion, Hiccup and Gustav calmly strolled around the island's edge, each looking out towards the horizon as if to await some image to manifest from the fire tinted clouds and powder blue skies. After reintroducing her to Berk's residential riding dragons, Gustav's longing for Fanghook only worsened.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble and secrecy, Gustav." Hiccup turned over to him with a weak smile.

"It's okay. I mean, I totally understand, it's just like how birds migrate. I guess we never really thought about it that way cause we've never experienced anything like it before." Gustav nodded eagerly. "I just wish I knew how Fanghook tied into all this…" his expression turned from light to that of grim curiosity as his fingers curled onto his chin.

Once Hiccup explained how only mature dragons left for the Rookery, which if he thought about it made sense for the Berkian flock to leave since they were all mostly well aged drakes, it still didn't factor in Fanghook's departure as he was still in his adolescence and wouldn't carry that instinctual drive to come here just yet; the only exception to this rule seemed to be Tuffnut and Ruffnut's Zippleback, Barf and Belch, who despite still being considered under the age of copulation for their breed, willingly ventured off with the herd on account that they "needed a vacation" from the twins. In the end, Gustav was still stuck in square one, no further to knowing or even guessing where his scaled friends could be than when he started his expedition.

"I wish I had more information to give you. If we had seen him flying around we would have contacted you as soon as possible." Hiccup said as she crossed her arms before pondering silently for a moment. "You don't think he went searching for your helmet without you?"

"I thought about that, but when Meatlug and I passed the spot where it had fallen I couldn't spot him anywhere… I'm just worried he might get hurt or run out of medicine. I know it was stupid of me to try and go after him by myself, but the last thing I wanted was to lose him too. Besides, Fanghook's more important to me than a crummy helmet… He's my best friend."

If Hiccup hadn't known how close Gustav and Fanghook were, she would have thought he was crazy for saying something like that. He loved his helmet. He practically wore it religiously, even during the hottest days of summer, making his dark locks appear soppy with dripping sweat. In the past whenever Snotlout wanted to really bug him, he'd steal his helmet and hide it somewhere around the village or neighboring forest, usually just out of arms reach for him and since it was a big blow to his young pride he never asked for any help in getting it, thinking if he did it would be seen as a sign of weakness and lack of Viking self-honor. It was one of the main reasons why she kept helping him a complete secret, that and knowing firsthand what it felt like to be teased and treated like a, well… an outcast.

Reaching out for his small palms and cupping them gently, Hiccup gave her young Viking companion a reassuring grin before mildly adjusting several stubborn threads of hair from his cool face as golden sunlight flickered his jade eyes to a mature and somber olive. She wasn't sure if it was from the passing of time since their last visit, the events that lead to this moment, or perhaps the way the shadows played and sculpted his young visage but seeing Gustav's transformation from an eager and often overenergetic fireball into a dimming flicker of light left an almost bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Over the past few months she had seen and over his letters read the drastic change he had undergone from boy to young man. He was stronger, more knowledgeable, and well established as a guide to others far beyond his years. It was he who helped bring dragons and Vikings closer together on their home grounds and it was him who gave a voice to them when no one would listen. All Gustav ever wanted from all this was a better today for all, and yet life can sometimes throw a curve ball at even the most well prepared and turn their world upside-down once more without rhythm or reason and she could see how such a toll affected him deeply.

Encircling her arms around him, Hiccup breathed slowly. She knew what it felt like to lose a friend. She went through the same thing not too long ago with Toothless right after she had mended his tail and experienced firsthand the contradictory feelings of emptiness and weight that came from a shattered and fragmented heart. The last thing she wanted was for Gustav to think his actions had caused Fanghook to just up and leave; dragons were far more complex and complicated than that.

If she could she'd bring Fanghook back to Gustav and his helmet in a heartbeat, but for now all she could provide for him was hope with her tender embrace while several hatchings surrounding them, cooing and peeping as if to soothe the strange new being who was receiving all their queen's attention.

The momentary distraction of miniature dragons and warmth from Hiccup's hug relaxed Gustav's nerves, at least he now knew where she and all the Berkian folk had gone off to and if anything that would make everyone back on Berk happy. And in a way, the very thought lightened his sorrows.

"Thanks for listening, Hiccup," Gustav sniffled as he gripped onto her tighter as if the very thought of letting her go would cause a great distance between them.

"I'll always be there for you, Gustav, no matter what."

Before their sweet moment could end properly, a sizzling pop filled air nearby, prompted by the emergence of a newly hatched Gronckles from one of the many burrowed springs in the clay deposit.

Seeing the obvious curiosity in his brightened eyes Hiccup released Gustav who slowly paced and kneeled down near the still bubbling pool as three Boulder class babes swam towards the surface edge before climbing out all by their lonesome.

"Aww," Gustav couldn't help but sigh out as an eager one of lime flickered its still damp wings clumsily like a loud boisterous bumblebee, hoisting the little bull-pup briefly before tumbling down onto the almost rubbery earth besides its weary and proud mother.

"Wow… Hey, look over here, you missed one," he called out as stood, pointing over to a single egg caught between a clear break and shallow pocket in the soil.

With his arms held out to grab said egg the last thing Gustav expected was to be tackled down by the dragon queen, her echoing warning of "GET DOWN!" became a near last second whisper in comparison to what could only be described as a micro volcanic explosion with the distinct smells of brimstone and carbonite lingering in the vicinity.

Once the sound of an approaching wail came to a sudden bouncing thump, Hiccup lifted herself from her shielding position over Gustav who wordlessly stared at the unfazed yawning spawnling.

"Man, it's a good thing those don't hatch on Berk."

As if the realization just stuck her, Hiccup swiveled her head and body around in search for a different set of Gronckles altogether and once she caught sight of Goliath laying right by a deeply slumbering Meatlug did it dawn on her.

"I wouldn't count your Gronckles before they hatch, Gustav. We may have a minor situation on our hands…"

…

Berk had finally begun to calm down. Sure the dragons were still gone, Gustav was missing, and Hiccup wasn't there for the holidays, but other than that everything was beginning to come together just nicely. The perpetrations for the feast were at their final stages of completion, the village decorations were simply perfect, and with the cooling sheets of snow hugging the earth and the tops of roofs the streets glowed with an almost starlight gleam from the dim light of the glowing orbs bouncing off the ice layers like tiles from a mosaic masterpiece. Families began gathering together inside their homes, roasting chestnuts over open fires while the elders shared stories from holiday's past, each reciting the timeless tale of Snoggletog like their own elders had done for them before.

With all the merriment, holiday spices floating around, and the insides of the their houses growing toasty, no one gave notice to the odd blue balls placed in their helmets and boots that gave off a faint sulfuric odor, not even when weak trails of smoke puffed from them like steaming kettles.

It seemed that rather soon they would have more than just popping chestnuts to worry about…

Outside five youths waited patiently for the surprise of a lifetime.

"Wasn't this a great idea!?" Aarne cheered to the others once the final egg had been delivered.

The twins and Snotlout silently approved with confident nods and proud grins while Fishlegs looked utterly tickled by the very experience.

"Uh-huh!" he swelled with utter joy. "Everyone's gonna be so surprised!"

A chilling northern current washed itself over the island of Berk that caused even the most sturdy of yaks to tremble but our jovial delivery crew were far too drunk on their inner warmth to even bother with the temperature drop that breezed by them like a gentle pat on the back. The past few days may have been bumpy with unexpected challenges and loss but in the end they all somehow managed to pull through by the skin of their teeth and sheer Viking determination. It was as if they had harnessed the same will and strength their ancestors of old used in order to survive their very first winter together on the Barbaric frontier.

The streets were quiet, the town bright, and the overall atmosphere of...

KA-BOOM!

Like an overpressured pot of Gothi's "cure-all" brews, a loud explosion of jumping basalt and wooden door chucks splattered outward from one of the residential homes with the force of a whistling rocket before what looking like a hurling coconut bonked hollowly onto Fishlegs forehead and knocking him to the ground with considerable force; also like Gothi's brew.

"SURPRISE!" Snotlout mocked with an all too satisfied smirk while the unidentified falling object heavily caromed onto the lying Viking's cushiony belly with giant doe eyes and adorable clicking coos.

Echoes of elongated cutesy exasperations came from Snotlout and the twins while Aarne on the other hand had the look of a man who had just crawled out from the underbelly of Helheim itself with twisted tales of lost, diseased souls and bitter warnings from the fallen themselves.

"The eggs explode…"

Two additional fire-bullets exited out the sides of nearby houses as if to further validate his statement as fact.

"THE EGGS EXPLODE!"

And like a symphony of coordinated grenades, bursts of pyrotechnical ribbons launched out from various home with banshee-like shrills acting as the chorus and flowing smoke trails waltzed along to the tempo of the epic performance.

Vikings were however fans of a much more theatrical form of music and showed their appreciation for the show by filling the streets with the harsh pitter-patter of stomping boots to compact snow and wailing out their own improv versions of banshee screams while juggling sheep, platters of food, and children in the air whereas some residence from combusted homes danced wildly with odd attires of flames and soot from being caught in the crossfire of creative difference; all the while Aarne watched in abject horror and handed out honest to goodness apologizes as firebombs blazed the drying evening sky with shades of crimson, gold, and smoke.

Comedy aside the events truly did startle the Berkian populous greatly and between the confusion and hullaballoo it almost felt like a reemergence from their old ways of life when fire shot from the skies and the smell of ash and dragon's breathe sounded the morning alarms for battle and destruction. Winter was their only true retreat from those savage days and now to have such hellfire land on their most precious of holidays: how much more torment could the world throw at them?

However, not all was chaos and havoc for the inhabitants. The newly hatched Gronckles who tumbled down towards the snow laced earth opened their saucer-like eyes to this new and if still blurry world of motion and color. Oblivious to the damage they had unintentionally created each gazed upon the iced environment with all the curiosity of a newborn as comet-like trails from their fellow brethren jetted against the tip and sides of a tall cone-like structure before it slowly became engulfed in flame.

"Awesome!" Ruffnut chimed as the spectacular events unfolded.

"Wow!" Tuffnut added with the same enthusiasm, his eyes beaming with joy.

"This is your best idea yet," Snotlout grinned over to the still traumatized Hofferson before returning his attention towards the tall figure racing for the central square and the Snoggletog tree.

Stoick's breathe quivered. The tree he and so many others had decorated for generations began to sway dangerously with the wind turning a once proud standing symbol of the changing seasons into a crumbling pyre of cackling staves, each board mocking its collapse to their decorators even further by splitting their own sides as they tumbled to the ground; and as each plank fell all those beautiful memories of his grandfather, father, Valka, and Hiccup flashed into his mind before vaporizing into folds of the steam and cinder.

Gazing upon the broken faces of his people he witnessed as what little hope they held in their eyes turn from a flickered to a faltered as the rising embers smothered away their spirits.

Continuing his search he set his sights onto the oddly chipper dragon riders and couldn't help but let out his our inferno of blazed words. "WHAT IN THOR'S NAME IS GOING ON!"

Their smirks were quickly wiped off their faces and Fishlegs couldn't help but hide the baby Gronckle still in hand behind his back, there was no telling what their chief would do with that tone of fire on his breath.

Palm placed over his mouth, Aarne wasn't too sure where to begin.

"The eggs explode."

As the last syllable left his lips a final blast torpedoed out from the roof of his own house.

…

"What do you mean 'female'?!" Gustav questioned as he followed behind Hiccup and Goliath to the other end of the island after their startling talk with Meatlug was done.

"Meatlug came here driven solely on instinct because she was pregnant. If she laid her clutch on Berk, those eggs are literal ticking time bombs." Hiccup barely even faced him as she whistled out for Toothless.

"What do we do?"

"Get there before they have a chance to hatch."

"We've got several hours at best before the first ruptures, after that it'll only be a matter of seconds before the others follow." Goliath said in a semi-panicked huff. Not even a father yet and he was already feeling those pre-hatching jitters.

"I'm so stupid…" Hiccup whispered in a soft voice like it was a cross between human speak and Dragonese.

"Hic, it wasn't you. We didn't even know Fishlegs still had…her on the island." Gustav tried to comfort. He was still getting used to the idea that the Meatlug they had known for months was actually a girl.

"What's wrong?" Toothless strode over by Hiccup's side with concerned eyes as he watched Goliath's usually copper-tan scales turn ghost-beige.

"We've got eggs on Berk."

That was all he needed to hear before racing back positioning himself to be mounted.

"I'm coming too." Gustav gave a serious stare before going over to Hookfang. "What do you say, Hookfang, think you can give me a ride back home?"

The elder Nightmare was more than willing to help his fellow Berkian companions and snaked his head down to allow the smaller rider to hop on.

As soon as Toothless, Hiccup, Gustav, and Hookfang took to hovering the entire colony of drakes rose their heads high attention.

"I'll see you all back on Berk when you're good and ready! Okay, gang!" Gustav called out with a smile.

The clan however, had a much different plan as hundreds of grounded dragons rose from their positions and began flapping their powerful wings, lifting up dust and their bodies into the air.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no, no, no!" Gustav retaliated firmly, shaking his hands wildly as if to conduct the pack like an air traffic controller. "What's happening?"

Giving the island a once over, Hiccup witnesses as dragons from the furthest corners of the Archipelago joined in with no questions or concerns to hers and Gustav's authority. "I think we just started the return migration."

Vocal little mouths began to call out and scrap at the clay as they viewed not only their parents but their queen and her strange friend above them and began imitating the process of flapping their bitty wings in eagerness.

"Are you sure about this?/Are you sure about this?" Hiccup and Gustav called out to the colonies.

"Berk is our home and we have our Viking families to return to," Stormfly rang out with vigor, rest of the crowd joined in with similar cheer.

"We may not share our domains with humans, but we will follow your judgement, Queen," a Snaptrapper from a different cluster bowed their four heads to her in respect as did many of the others.

Turning to one another, Hiccup and Gustav paused briefly before gesturing in agreement.

"Well, if they insist." Gustav smiled as he motioned Hookfang to charge forward.

As the elder dragons began to lead ahead the little ones dashed off towards the end of the cliff, each giving their wings pre-flight flaps before leaping off the ledge like migrating lemmings. Despite all their best effort and wing persistence the strong northern winds rushing over the Cliffside created a continual air current that pushed the younglings back onto the earth where they panted heavily from their much understood exhaustion.

"Oh boy. This is never gonna work." Gustav whispered as he watched a second batch of babies try and fail like the first to maintain flight. Their young wings were not yet capable for flight let alone a lone distance travel like the one from the Rookery to Berk, heck even from here to Dragon Island was a wide stretch for the little guys.

What to do now? On one hand they had to fly over to Berk and prevent a possible catastrophe and on the other deal with a difficult challenge. Hiccup thought for a moment and turning her mind over to her more inventive side and within a matter of seconds glanced over to the east and knew what to do.

"Oh, hold on, I've got just the thing!"

…

Frigid north eastern winds cut through the warm airs of the south as Hiccup, Gustav, and the rest of the Berkian and Barbaric herds ventured closer towards their homes in the icy North. It had taken some time to gather the right materials for such a large relocation but with everyones combined help they were able to corral the younglings into fallen battleships that lay waste throughout the nearby open seas and sleigh them across the ever darkening tangerine skies. Hopefully, time was on their side.

"How much longer till we reach Dragon Island?!" Gustav cupped his response as the rushing currents grew heavier and fierce.

"At our current speed it'll be about five hours!"

A harsh tisk escaped the young helmetless lad, that meant the overall hours to get back to Berk would be around eight and by then...

"Damn…" Gustav exhaled lowly to the wind.

It felt as if the opposing currents were pushing them back rather than allowing them to flying forward and even though they had already covered a fair distance from their start at the Rookery it still made the journey back home feel lengthier than it was getting there.

As the flight progressed with continued, the sound of nipping gales and beating beats bickering his eardrums, Gustav had plenty of time to stew in his thoughts, actions, and emotions soon found obvious flaws in his recovery mission that in hindsight made his blood both chill and bubble.

He hadn't thought this day out as thoroughly as he could have. He had a half-baked plan to track down his friend from the rickety confines of a row boat with limited knowledge as to where he could be during the year's most inaccessible season due to partially frozen seas when he only had a satchel filled with foodstuff and freshwater to at best last him three days, virtually no sailing experience, which in hindsight should have been his first clue that this plan was completely ridiculous, and very limited time to pull all this off before people got suspicious of his absence or worse, his mother. If anything, finding Meatlug unexcitingly and having her "kidnap" him over the watery terrain was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, but in the end he still was nowhere closer to his original goal of finding his friend.

None of this would have ever happened if he hadn't lost his helmet. Fanghook would still be there by his side and he wouldn't have gone on this wild goose chase. Then again the dragons would have still left and he'd be grounded on Berk for reasons beyond his control. So his problems must have stated when he made the Dragon Scale? But then he wouldn't have learned of the Rookery firsthand or reunite with Hiccup and the rest of the herd and Meatlug could very well still have been chained in a storage shed with her exploding eggs just waiting to well, explode.

Would changing one that really have made such a big difference or was this what people called the inevitable?

Trying to find reason to this seemingly unpredictable and meaningless world was what kept all those ancient scholars of old with too much time on their hands busy and he was nowhere near as timeworn as them nor did he have the luxury to ponder over these difficult questions, he had enough to deal with.

All he ever wanted was for this year to be special…

Gustav's too quiet demeanor caught Hiccup's attention and with gentle guidance to Toothless she maneuvered closer to his side, "Something on your mind?"

"Oh, you know, just pondering life's great mysteries…" he jeered weakly before become serious. "Hiccup? Do you think it was selfish of me to go looking for Fanghook even after I gave him a choice?"

Giving delay for a short pause, Hiccup looked out to the blending hues of fulvous, ube, and poppy that painted the ether and the cool black waves below. This seemed vaguely familiar in a way, like when she and Ruffnut sat by her house on Berk and talked while watching the sunset. Taking in a slow breath she smiled softly and let out her voice.

"We're all a little selfish from time to time, but I don't think you made the wrong decision entirely. Gustav, what you did was the most difficult and generous thing you could have done for him and I know that feels like, you just have to have faith that he'll come back."

Gustav soaked in her words, a small chortle escaping his lips as well as silent tears of what he was sure to be relief. "Your dad said the same thing about the dragons."

It was her turn to be silent in thought. She hadn't expected something like that to come out of Stoick the Vast. Times had changed.

With a loving purr from Toothless that brought Hiccup back to the present, she reached over towards Gustav with her right arm and tenderly rested his head on her shoulder while he nuzzled in as close as he could from the neck of a full-grown Nightmare.

"Getting real awkward to fly with you hovering like this Fury," Hookfang grunted with caution under his wings and fiery breath.

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment," Toothless hissed before grinning over his rider and her student's precious closure.

…

Hammering new planks and roof shingles into damaged houses wasn't really how Aarne had thought he'd be spending his Snoggletog holiday but after the stunt he and the others pull he figured it was the least he could do to make up for his blunder. Surprisingly enough the village took to the explosions fairly well once the smoke settled and the Gronckle piglets were wrangled up and tended to properly while the rest of the town picked up what could be salvaged of their ornaments and moods.

He made quick work of the repairs thanks to his tact for organization and precision whereas the other riders were stationed to fire brigade like they used to do back in the day…

Back in the day…

It honestly wasn't so long ago was it? Aarne asked himself after driving in the final nail onto a competed plank.

As he caught glance of his teammates suffocating the last whispers of smoke brought back silhouetted memories of early morning raids, the distinct bouquet of charred wool, and the grinding hiss of an old sharpening wheel biting down on mending steel; it felt nostalgic, and much like the past the tingling sensation of failure bubbled in the back of his throat from trying to place his best intentions forward only to have them blow up in his face.

He remembered once thinking that the world they lived in was inevitably unforgiving to the less capable and filled with perils that only the sharp end of an axe could remedy. Perhaps those ideals still laid within him somewhere under his new perspectives.

"Ugh, Gobber… This is a disaster," a stern voice below called out lowly.

"Ugh, it's not so bad," the smith chimed slightly brushing off an excess amount of ash from a charred plank before it crumbled to soot from his slight touch as if to side with the chief instead.

"Oh, not that bad? The village is destroyed, the dragons have gone and left us, Gustav's been shanghaied, and on top of that Hiccup's nowhere tangible. Let's face it, this holiday is a complete…!"

No one was sure how Stoick would have finished that sentence had Gobber not elbowed him as Aarne climbed down the ladder steps but it was clear the lad had heard enough.

"How's it looking up there?" Stoick asked.

"Just some minor patch workings for now, should keep the cold and snow out for now. As soon as there's more light in the morning I'll go over them again and fix up the rest of the damage." Aarne nodded militantly to his chief and smith yet somehow his words and actions felt lifeless and foreign despite the fact that he used to address each as such without falter in the past like it was commonplace.

Maybe he felt he needed to self-reinstate his behavior after such a massive error on his part or maybe it was out of his shame from disappointing those whom he looked so highly to. He felt a brief tremble from a sudden epiphany: Was this what Hiccup meant when she felt pain from disappointing everyone? The influx of questioning thoughts spiraled around his head to the point where he had to tighten his numb-sore fists till the ends of his fingernails slightly pierced through his thick flesh just to settle his anxieties to a halt.

Noticing the cadence shift in Aarne's tone and the burning pulse just under his dense forearms and neck as he made his way to the next repair site, Stoick let out a consoling breath, "Hold on, hold on."

Pausing midstep, Aarne twisted his head to the side before turning fully to face both men.

"Alright, come on. What's on your mind, out with it?"

Despite Stoick's composed voice, Aarne couldn't help feel like he had been lung-punched by a rabid bear. Honestly he would have preferred it if he had shouted or spoke with a more demanding air, at least then he could justify stinging pressure building up under his skin; nevertheless he understood what it was his chief was asking of him and while it was difficult to gather his words he let them out slowly like a long held breath.

"I'm sorry… This wasn't supposed to be how it turned out," his shoulders deflated. "I thought that if I kept trying to stay optimistic then everything would go turn out just fine. It'd be like Hiccup was still here and lessen the blow from the dragons."

He paused, his palm finally relaxing.

"Things…were supposed to change. We'd all be celebrating together like one big happy family but instead we're picking up the pieces like we've always done. I just wanted to keep the spirit alive."

With a small bow Aarne finished with a sense of ease while Stoick and Gobber silently processed what had just been said.

Taking a moment to piece his words, Stoick exhales shallowly before beginning. "Listen… I know what it's like to miss someone you love this time of year." His breath quickened, "…and I know how much effort you and everyone put into tryin' to make this holiday work out for the best. But what do we do when we've lost nearly all hope for the holiday? What do we have to celebrate?"

Stoick's arm extended out towards his staggering people as they shoveled away piles of burnt material with cold black powdered hands.

A windless silence held on for a seven second period. Aarne wasn't sure how to answer that after everything they had just went through.

Sure Vikings were made and spun to be these tough, brutish super beings who conquered seas and fought tooth and nail against some of the most fearsome creatures the Northern world had to offer, but at the end of the day they were simply human and even the most pigheaded and burliest of people would find themselves down in the slumps when misfortune comes a-knocking.

Was this truly to be how Snoggletog would end?

Howling winds began to pick up once more, effectively smothering any residual heat from the village, leaving the air feeling brittle-sharp with chills so cold they burned and with only the honey-glow orbs lighting their darkness with now meaningless holiday shades shadows began to somberly dance upon the silent snowy void around them…

…

This, however, was not the end.

High above the pitch veil an old rickety figurehead slit the heavens askew allowing the sound of gentle starlight and whiffling wings passageway towards the icy frontier down below.

Enraptured ears and gazes steadied, each wondering the same question in gasped silence.

"What is that?" Stoick vocalized this communal inquiry, his emerald eyes squinting tightly and while he may not have the same eyesight he once had in his prime, he could still make out the signature shadows of dragons and ships.

Like a skyward festival, half-raft chariots pulled by dragons of all known breeds galloped across the now visible airways in a performance so grand and miraculous that would make even the beloved goddess Freya and her feline toted wain applaud in high regards.

As the air parade continued northbound, a lone carriage descended towards the quiet island and while making out individual dragons from the still fair distance was a challenge what could be assured was the small outline of wild hair shooting out from atop a Monstrous Nightmare.

"It's Gustav!" Stoick cheered, his voice rattling the villagers with newfound glee as they themselves bellowed in joy.

"And our dragons…" Aarne breathed out in gasping spurts, his eyes brightening like stars as a slow grin curled away his nerves when Stormfly's all too familiar call hit his eardrums.

With shaky creaks and harsh recoils onto the snow laced earth the once proud ship sked across the slippery surface with the decelerating grace of a drunken goose before plopping down heavily onto its base and tilting slightly as ropes detached from clawed grasps like weighted ribbons. In terms of sticking the landing, the ever vigilant sheep gave their performance one bleats out of five.

Silently, each villager gave the other an unsure glance. Yes they were more than ecstatic that their dragons had once again returned but that didn't stop a lingering curiosity from wafting about as strange chittering barks and gurgling mewls surrounded the crashed vessel.

Then, it happened…

One small step.

That's all it took from a child tiptoeing forward to rouse the crooning bodies from hiding and when human eyes lead onto nubby horns and glossy orbs of ambers and teals, algid hearts began to thaw with warmth as blunt claws were introduced to the wondrous and strange texture of ice.

Smiles brightened dull faces as cheers and merry growls chimed in harmony once Gustav, Hookfang and the rest of the Berkian flock settled onto solid ground while echoing songs of praise welcomed him as well as their familiar and new scaly brethren back to their shores with tender embraces and well-deserved chin rubs.

Even Gothi seemed to have a peppier zip to her step as she hobbled closer to her slithering Death and her accompanying miniature brood who took their time carefully snaked around the elder's perimeter, sniffing her medicinal silver hair while their ruby eyed brother towered before her with a curious rumble in his throat. Had it not been for his large crimson-mirror orbs that scanned the brittle lady with interest and warm snorting huffs that flushed her wrinkled skin, Gothi may have mistaken the chalk colored youngling for a large realistic snow sculpture and honestly no one would have blamed her for it as several unsuspecting Vikings toppled over his long pale tail in the low light as they raced to greet their own reptilian friends. Nonetheless, steady old hands brushed onto Chalk's rough scales in beaming acceptance, and before she knew what hit her, her small body was cradled gently by four blue and one white whip-like appendages. As their combined hums lulled her old bones she silently wondered how she was ever going to fit her new family into her rickety shack.

While families reunited, bonded, and hailed, Meatlug and Goliath hovered to and fro in search of their own little ones.

Soot laced snow. Rubbled buildings. The dwindling feel of fear crawling over the two Gronckles' spines. It was the beginning of a tale which they hoped didn't end dastardly as each spilt off in opposing directions.

Understandably, they were worn. From Meatlug's sore wings, boulder-weighted eyelids, and her fish-filled belly that slowed her throughout the return journey, it was a wonder she managed to keep up with the flock. Sure she had rested shortly at the Rookery but it wasn't as if the distance between it and Berk was a hop, skip, and a jump away and with the cold northern winds working against them it made the trip feel twice as long and near unbearable for the gentle Boulder class sow while her partner bull -robust and solid as he was- could feel his age on his spine from the long haul; and as much as they wanted to just fall to the compact sleet and let it ice away their fatigued muscles, a deep-set maternal drive kept each going as they searched over houses and crowded streets until the ringing barks of nine hungry piglets reached out to each from the village square.

"MEATLUG!"

Said Gronckle barely had enough time to feed and admire her sweet darlings' adorable splendor before the advancing siren that was Fishlegs bolted towards and ultimately tackling her onto her side like an unstable domino.

Cushioned between snow and Fishlegs' fur tunic, Meatlug welcomed to sensation of slush to her scales and allowed its chilling touch to recharge and relax her form as she lovingly watched her young from her side. As much as she had longed to return to her eggs, she was happy to reunite with Fishlegs once more and while it was his selfish actions that caused this domino-effect of problems, his heart was in the right place and for what it was worth she wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Oh, I missed you so much, girl!" Fishlegs near teared up with a cracking voice, his thick arms wrapped comfortability over his friend's side.

While Meatlug and Fishlegs bonded in tender embrace Goliath hovered down towards his clutch of nine as they eagerly dove into their mother's meal with gurgling munches and weak little shoves to one another.

These were his children.

His blood.

His family.

It was love at first sight.

Sitting between his mate, her rider, and their young, the titan-wing enveloped his each of them in warmth and protection.

He was home.

Amidst the crowd of loud cheers and lively roars, eyes of sapphire and citrine crossed paths in a way that to the untrained eye would have come off as standoffish but were in fact the held gazes of long friends reuniting at last.

"Stormfly…" It was all the conformation either of them needed before the distance between the other was finally broken once tender callused palms made contact with polished scales and cheeks were brushed up against each other.

"You're back."

Wrapping his arms around the azure Nadder's nape a joyful grin danced across Aarne's cold cheeks, even allowing a rather rare chuckle to escape his breath until sudden nipping pips halted his infrequent titter and upon looking down his ice-kissed skin flared up like a firework as his voice whistled out to an even rarer squeal. "And there're babies!"

By this point he just couldn't help himself as he crouched to their level and slowly offered his palms and a genuine smile to the four teal and lilac shaded ankle biters eagerly surrounding him as if they had known him since their hatching and for the first time in years he truly felt like he had a family to call his own.

With all the commotion and gaiety about the village roundabout and streetways it was fairly easy for Gustav to just slip through the scene in eidolon-like fashion.

Judging by the several semi-destroyed properties and obvious pile of cindered planks he guessed it was right to assume they were too late to stop the eggs from exploding but seeing as no one appeared harmed and how neither Goliath nor Meatlug seemed defensive or overly protective of their piglets must have meant things hadn't turned out as bad as he had imagined. So…mission accomplished?

Despite the fact that he was witnessing all this love, reunion and comradery between man and beast, he still felt like this could still very well be in some alternate dimension and that at any moment he could wake up and find a war still looming over his bedroom window.

It felt so surreal…

If he had been told him last Snoggletog, his village would be sharing their treasured holiday with fire-breathing reptiles, he would have called the dissenter hysterical for even insinuating such poppycock. Now, he wouldn't even give the idea a second thought.

This… It felt right.

Despite his phantom-like stride the sudden sensation of his ribs being crushed by tree trunks and his feet being lifted off the ground reminded him that he, as well as this reality, were real.

"Ha, ha, ha! Well done, lad!" Stoick bellowed with renewed vigor into the young hero's right ear.

"Tttt-hanks chief," Gustav heaved out with what little breath his lungs could spare before being released back onto solid ground.

"Gustav Larson…" a feminine chime cut through the crowd like a scythe.

Frozen, Gustav could only gulp and watch in silent dread as his mother marched towards him with hands crossed over her long apron dress and a glare that could slip an iceberg in half. He had forgotten just how intimidating she could be and the dragging silence between the two only seemed to amplify that effect.

A heavy intake of cold air filled Mrs. Larson's lungs. She had a great deal of time to think of what to say to son.

Awaiting the inevitable, Gustav worked up the courage to not look jittered as the distance that separated them was reduced to mere inches.

She took a second breath and smiled, "You must be hungry?"

Needless to say those were not the words Gustav had expected to hear.

"You-You're not mad?" Gustav questioned in a cautious manner.

"No," she continued to grin as she reached out to rest her palms on his thin shoulders, "but you're far from being off the hook young man."

Of course, Gustav thought with a sigh. It couldn't have been that easy.

"For now, I think you're in need for a good holiday serving of cider and braised mutton."

As if alerted to the prospect of a hot meal his stomach grumbled in approval as a crooked grin flushed his cold-brushed cheeks while Stoick cheered out towards the crowd in celebration. "EVERYONE! Grab your dragons! To the Great Hall!" He paused briefly when his Thunderdrum, its mate, and their eager trio of pups waddled toward him with curious excitement. "We finally have something to celebrate!"

Battle cries like roars echoed from Viking and dragonkind alike building up excitement and adrenaline as a trail of fire orbs lead their way towards an awaiting feast that would make even the bountiful banquets of Valhalla dim in comparison.

…

'Aren't you coming?'

It had been a simple question from Gustav once they had reached Dragon Island and the slight flinch of disappointment over his confident smile still cut like a knife.

The last thing she wanted was to upset him or Berk any further but right now she had other things to attend to and once she was sure all her and the remaining northern dragons were sound asleep, Hiccup trilled out towards the dark main and awaited the rippling head of Atlas to emerge from his pleasant slumber.

"Good evening, Milady," Atlas yawned out as cordially as he could before becoming presentable with a light shimmy of awakening. "Forgive my state, lady Hiccup, I wasn't expecting your arrival till springtide. Is anything the matter?"

"Sorry to wake you, Atlas. We relocated here for the time being. There was an egg emergency on Berk so they left early with Gustav, the rest of the colonies are welcome here till season's end. I actually wanted to ask if you'd seen Fanghook around."

"He isn't with young Larson?" the Scaludron asked with genuine surprise, the two lads were quite inseparable.

"Apparently he went off three days ago after he made him a medical patch for his anxieties." Toothless answered. "We think he might have gone out looking for Gustav's helmet when it fell into the ocean between here and Berk."

"I'm afraid to say I haven't seen our friend Fanghook about but if it's a helmet you're after I did happen past a pod of Seashockers toying around with one strikingly similar to his about four moons ago by the Western Tidal Pools."

"Any idea if they might still have it?" Hiccup asked with her eyes drawn to the sea.

"Seashockers are the like the pirates of the deep, if they find something entertaining, they're not letting it go." Toothless growled, the very thought of those finned brigands bucking Gustav's helmet back and forth like some play thing irked him to the core.

"Thankfully most Seashocker pods follow the same currents year round. If you believe Fanghook to be after young Larson's helmet, there could be a chance they may still have it."

With that as their lead, Hiccup and Toothless followed close behind Atlas as they set a course towards the west, the last glimmer of sunlight farewelling them on their final mission.

…

Trembling bandaged hands gently lowered a precious porcelain saucer of freshly made warm cream onto a low polished table of dark mahogany as focused and ever judging grey-hazel eyes pierced into Mildew's impending soul. He had learned quickly to both fear and utterly respect those watchful orbs, he had the markings to prove they weren't the only sharp things connected to the coal hued feline seated on his red velvet and rich wooden floor chair of the same color and shine as the table.

Thuggory thoroughly examined the cleanliness of the saucer served to him, took into account the visual presentation of the spice and cranberry flaked cream within, and gave the concoction a sophisticated whiff before taking an elegant lap of the sweetened brew without even matting or dribbling a single drop onto his silken coat.

The brew was…palatable. Acceptable. Without even a second glance to the fidgeting elderly man hovering over him Thuggory gave a small wave with his fluffy tail, offering the human proper dismissal.

Finally, after seventy-nine attempts over a span of twenty-four days, Mildew could finally relax his tense shoulders and feel the warm embrace of accomplishment.

Mixed grumbles of acceptance filled the dining hall where all had gathered and were currently seated for a holiday meal of freshly prepared dishes ranging from roasted boar to giant bowls of steaming lobster stew.

"Well done." A smooth voice jazzed its way into the air like spun silk. This was the first time since he had arrived onto Outcast that emotionless tone crossed his eardrums and while the words were cold and lacking in any actual praise, Mildew would gladly take what he could get from the young Outcast prince currently taking a slow sip of akvavit.

"I am most humbly grateful and honored, Master Heath." Mildew truthfully sighed with both relief and a small bit of pride. If he wasn't filled with a mixture of lethargy and private joy he would happily cry from this grueling endeavor.

"Well, I reckon you've earned yerself a meal." Alvin invited with a grin, an invitation which the elderly man openly accepted as he prepared himself for the feast with a start of bread and ale.

With Mildew finally seated and Thuggory content, the festivities began.

When Alvin first told him he would have the most challenging task on Outcast to prove his loyalty he never would have suspected it would be to cater to the every whim and call of the smoky Norwegian Forest cat. If anything he figured the duty trivial and rather demining, being less of a challenge than his previous job as a simple cabbage farmer, but sadly and most disappointingly he never realized just how much work went into keeping the island's national treasure pleased.

Mind you, Mildew's experience with felines was never quiet grand or vast, but Thuggory made him feel like the most incompetent of fools from day one. He thought the bread stealing was bad, what this cat had in store for him had him feeling like his self-worth and dignity was nothing but a moldy toast crumb to be spit out and left to rot like a clumpy hairball.

If ever he walked too close to him, it would earn him a foul hiss and a bite to the ankle, if he served his meals too hot, too cold, or if the flavoring was just a tad bit off he'd feel the harsh sting of sharpened talons onto his old crinkly skin, and if he ever brushed him improperly he'd find a nasty little surprise inside his helmet the next morning.

This was a very particular cat.

Not out of being pampered or from a living rich and spoiled lifestyle. Thuggory was just as plain and common as any ordinary puss. He chased mice, teased the tail ends of the yaks whenever he was down in the stables, and on a rare occasion he liked to curl himself into a tight dust ball form atop the Loki trees that scattered the island for a quick nap. Simple: that was a common word used around Outcast to describe him, although Mildew was quick to disagree on that entirely. From his experience the feline was a smug little troll with a knack for making his new life a living Hel when in reality Thuggory just knew what he liked and disliked and expected others to deal with that fact.

If there was something Thuggory wanted, he'd just take it, whether that be a slice of bread or the last remnants of mackerel from the breakfast platter, he'd claim it and it with his "take what I want when I please" attitude that initially caused so much grief for the old man. Mildew could never win, not even Fungus was on his side anymore as he was upgraded to "chariot duties" which basically entitled the ovine to such perks as parading the lazed cat from atop his fluffy wool like a noble steed and tormenting his human companion alongside his new friend.

Despite the fact the cat had him up and down the island on ridiculous strolls through the catacombs, yowled for meals in the dead hours of the night, gave him the most terrifying glares with non-blinking large owl-like eyes, and intentionally used his walking stick as a scratching post he could understand why the men of Outcast regarded him so highly.

Thuggory was not just you run-of-the-mill pest repellant; he was known for his surprising bravery, warding off invading dragons from the winding caverns that tunneled all over the underbelly of the once mountain like they were nothing but overgrown rats. One look at him with his arched spine, spiked out wild fur, and howling hiss and any drake who dared venture into Outcast or cross his path was sent flying out the way they came, literally. To them there was nothing more frightening than a tempered cat - not that he could blame them. Asides from acting as the underground village's "guard-cat" he possessed a superior sixth sense, alerting the island to upcoming calamities like seaquakes, potential structural cave-ins, and lava spouts with long draping wails or continually scraping at the stone edgings, giving the Outcasts ample time to reinforce certain walls and barriers or safely retire old ones with ease.

It seemed he could do anything, despite his ordinary label. Even whenever Alvin or his son were pressed with tasks or had to venture off on out-of-island business, leaving the clan with no guide, it was only natural that the next most capable should take the lead and govern over the Outcast tribe, and it was none other than Thuggory who filled in those shoes like a glove. Sure some might think placing a cat in a political line of power might be a tad ludicrous and outrageous, but when put into action Thuggory had men twenty times his height saluting to him like he was a respected war hero, controlling the ranks with the watchful poise of a lion looking over his pride yet with the laxed grace of a true housecat. Surprisingly the cat had far more respect over him than Savage and he was Alvin's second-in-command, but even he could admit the grey puss did a better job at keeping the brutish men in check than he ever could.

The only time he felt he was ever off from his duties was when Thuggory tired of his presence and would slip away into the darkest and most remote tunnels where he dared not follow, the thick darkness beyond the safety of the main pathways felt heavy, dangerous, and the air hinted something towards something foul and sulfuric like a mixture of the tides and volcanic ash with the lingering sounds of the most horrific moaning and groaning he had ever heard - he often wondered it that was where the torture chambers lied - and it was only during those times that he honestly wished he could follow after the tom for protection, but that twisted pressure and vexing darkness halted him by shadows edge every time.

It was truly a solid wall of darkness.

Ladling a portion of bubbling stew into his empty bowl Mildew managed a quick glance at the young heir seated by his father, his back perfectly straight and his expression so void of any emotion it gave his air an almost blandness as if nothing could rouse his interest, not even good food or all the holiday cheer around him. Of all the people he learned of on Outcast, of their personal struggles and stories of how they came to become who they were, Heath was by far the most difficult to interest or even get close to and in a way he was thankful for that but also weary. He had been on Outcast for nearly a month and he still had no clue as to what Heath did in his spare time. Not that he hadn't tried asking but it seemed even the most veteran of Outcasts had no answer to his inquiries, only the vague response that Heath liked his alone time. He knew the Outcast heir dueled with the soldiers on occasion, rarely spoke, kept a watchful eye on him, and reserved most of his time in the very crypts he heard all those blood chilling wails, but other than that he knew near nothing about him. He was very much an enigma. Even the way he surgically cut into his portion of lobster tail and proceeded to slowly eat it seemed foreign. There were even moments when he wondered if the lad was even human, he was just so silently calculating, distant yet ready to strike at any moment like a coiled serpent. And those eyes…those deep forest colored orbs that were nothing like the meadowy pastures of his namesake, they were more like an engulfing sea green: cold, drowning, and bottomless. If he could see the eyes of the fearsome beast Jormungand, sea serpent brethren of Fenrir, he would believe they were to resemble those of Master Heath.

Just the thought gave him chills.

Had I known Alvin had a son like Master Heath I wouldn't have been so rash with the plan...

"What is your plan?" Heath's sooth voice cut through the noise of the dining hall like a chilled blade, causing everyone at the table to turn to silence.

Mildew's eyes rattled and became unfocused, he knew he was talking directly to him.

"M-My plan?" What the… Can he read minds too!?

"Yes." Heath finished with a matter-of-fact tone that made Mildew's spine feel like brittle glass. "You've been strategizing. I'd like to know how you've chosen to preside."

All eyes were fixated on Mildew, awaiting his answer.

If he had a cloth to wipe his brow of all the panicked perspiring he was producing he'd have enough liquid in it to fill up the ocean, twice.

Mildew fiddled with his trembling utensil. He wasn't too sure what made him more nervous, the room full of armored and armed Outcasts four times his size and strength watching him or speaking to the one person who could see right through him and his twofaced nature. Taking a quick peek over to Heath he instantly regretted it as his eyes locked with the all-knowing glare of the young master.

His eyes were almost hypnotic and he was sure he would have admitted to everything he had planned and more. His jaws began to slack and the roof of his mouth became stale with dryness as he could feel each pulsation of his thumping heart as if it were as loud as a drum. The first audible squeak escaped his parched lips but it seemed as if the tides of Snoggletog fortune saved a sliver of good will for him in case of such event as heavy footsteps and the sound of low bellowing horns echoed throughout the mines like a herd of storming elephants.

"ALVIN!" An armed sentinel rushed in, his breath lost and rigid.

"Dark figures...sea!" he gasped for dear life.

"Bright light…east," he had to take a knee.

"Dragons…" It was as if his soul was being ripped out of his physical form.

"Dragon Conqueror…"

The poor guard collapsed onto the stone ground as his final words breathed out, either out of sheer exhaustion or horror no one was certain but all gazes were now over the fallen man as questions rose.

"The Dragon Conqueror!?" One man exclaimed.

"That's impossible!" Another interjected.

The once peaceful and quiet dining hall soon turned into a warzone as men rallied together, matching without thought or heed towards the main exit and up the burrowing tunnels to the surface where white moonlight, silver stars, and midnight blue skies silhouetted three figures in the far off distance. From the distance it was difficult to make out what was out there, but what they each saw appeared to be a long necked serpent rising from the depths, a horned dragon seated atop a low pillar of sea stacks, and a small dark hovering shadow with what they could only assume to be a human standing atop of its backside with a glowing torch at hand.

Making his way through the crowd of soldiers Mildew's lungs felt as though they were about to collapse. The rider in the far fog was definitely Hiccup and her blasted Night Fury, but what in Hel's name were they doing so close to Outcast territory? Before he could come up with any answers or follow-up questions the torch held in his grasp plunged into the briny waters and to everyones dismay did not extinguish as it sunk into the dark void before the sea serpent went forth to follow it.

"No way…" Several soldiers with a spears and blades at hand blinked twice with astonishment over the strange witchcraft they had just witnessed before sidestepping closer towards the main gate.

"That…that Dragon Conqueror… It can't be human!" Men began to explode with dread. They had only assumed Mildew's tales of the Dragon Conqueror being a near otherworldly being with dark magic at palm were just the mad ramblings of an old exiled man, but they never expected his description to be mild and tames when compared to the image before their sights.

"It must be a demon or a witch!" A third man shuddered.

While Heath was normally the silent and unimpressed type, something about the alleged rider patiently and confidently piloting the dark beast he could logically deduce to be the fabled Night Fury, the Dragon Conqueror, he couldn't help but allow an amused chuckle to rattle his throat. Calculating size wise the Striker was of a medium stature with a body designed for swiftness and precision, much like the tales foretold. He could also see that this Dragon Conqueror was indeed embellished by Mildew's initial claim's standard but what interested him more was the person atop of it.

Determining proper gender from his current distance was a challenge to say the least but what he could gauge was that the rider was small in both height and frame, presumably making the individual in question young or perhaps naturally slight. Judging by the innovative trinket he/she (he wasn't about to go labeling the mysterious rider as one or the other) tossed into the sea indicated a search, but for what?

Oh how he just enjoyed puzzles like this… It made things less boring.

The gadget which was used as a light was certainly something not just anyone would come across and readily toss away without a single care and considering he had never seen anything like it before showed said person was either its creator or knew exactly how to come across such a rare and unique item and use it without much worry - all this talk of dark magic and witchcraft was simply nonsense and misplaced as simply unknown chemistry; he knew of certain substances that naturally produced fluorescence but not to that degree, if anything it resembled contained magma or some other flame-based element. His theories were soon verified when the light slowly reappeared with the Tidal class dragon, it carrying it between its teeth with an additional item before the rider took both items and smothered the torch with no aid of a traditional extinguisher.

He was learning so much from his simple observations while everyone else motioned into widespread panic that had Alvin at his wits end before whipping them back into a proper state of mind. This unknown rider used tools that dragons felt comfortable with so it showed a certain degree of understanding between the two and the fact that it so willingly aided in his/her quest revealed there was a special bond between this human, the Night Fury and the Scaludron, dragons highly known for their aggressiveness and power.

Considering how close they were to their boarders could either indicated fearlessness from the rider and dragons or a lacking knowledge of their existence which frankly he didn't mind one or the other, he was finding all this collected data fascinating.

Heath's usually unbroken expression cracked slightly as a smile curved over the end of his lips to this new shadowy adversary departing from the Scaludron and slowly leading a young Nightmare along with the Night Fury far towards the southwest before they each disappeared between the star belted skies.

With the Dragon Conqueror gone the Outcast clan regained their calm and now only had questions in need of answers. While all this was arising Heath was busy formulating his own questions, hypothesizes, and answers. According to Mildew the Night Fury was a powerful foe - he had no doubts there - and took the Berkian heir to which it was never made clear if he/she was dead. Considering what he knew about the current Hooligan leader, Stoick, he could assume said man was a proud and refined Viking who had no issue with tossing warriors aside for overstepping their boundaries like his father, but he also wasn't the type to recklessly go after a Night Fury during the most vulnerable season of the year so a spring search was highly plausible. Stoick at times could be a reckless man who held heavy vendettas and grudges and it was no secret he despised the Outcast Tribe, but he was also a diplomatic and studious leader with political connections with multiple tribes far across the Archipelago. Forming a dragon army would sanction a widespread panic within the tribal communities and considering Berks strong military numbers such an act would pull the Viking world into a new war.

But back to the heir of Berk and the possibility of him/her still being alive. Mildew never properly described the heir's appearance or features but considering whom his/her father to be there was no doubt said heir was intelligent, and stubborn to boot, so perhaps he/she had something unique to offer to the dragon community that no ordinary Viking could. And to what connection did the young heir have over his father? At the time of his banishment the heir would have been relatively young, close to his own age he'd presume, so perhaps…

It was a running theory he had been working on for some time, now all he needed was to gain the final pieces of the puzzle.

"Fascinating." Heath uttered before making his way back towards the catacombs. "I expect a detailed description of your capture plan by morning, Mildew."

"C-Capture?" Mildew flinched.

"Yes. I suggest having a word with the blacksmith, we'll need proper restraints for the Night Fury." Heath gave Mildew a cold stare, his expression bland as if he had never smiled just moments ago.

"Y-Yes, Master Heath…"

"Excellent. I'll be in my chambers, I have some experimenting to do."

As the halls echoed with Heath's footsteps, Mildew's sweat ran cold and chilled his body worse than any winter could before a heavy open palm slapped his brittle spin.

"Well, I'll be! That's the most excited I've seen me boy in a long time, Mildew." Alvin grinned. "Best not disappoint."

Great, know I have to not only make the cat happy, but the young master as well… Hel, what have I done?

…

"This is the BEST holiday ever! Who's a baby!? Who's a baby!?" Fishlegs' gleeful voice carried throughout the Great Hall as he snuggled two of Meatlug's piglets close, their round pudgy little bodies feeling like warm bread dough on his thick fur tunic while beside him Snotlout eagerly scratched the chin of Hookfang's fiery fire-spitting Nightmare hatchling. Like father, like son as they say.

All around the brightly lantern lit inner edifice of the Great Hall the smells of roasted chestnuts, applewood smoked meats, and the delightful tickle of pine peppered the air with Snoggletog spirit as man and dragon joined together for both feast and festivity while bittersweet notes of dragon's breath lingering with the Aarne's briny brew of yaknog seasoned the atmosphere with a subtle bouquet of over ripened tamarind fruit. In the background the sound of pipes, fiddles, and accordions echoed throughout the chambers and blended with the chorus of dragon song, dancing feet, and laughter; even Silent Sven joined in with his legendary tambourine rendition of Troll the Ancient for the little ones to enjoy.

Once his belly was filled with delicious food and warmth, Gustav wandered around the Hall in silent peace as he took in his surroundings like an artist would a fine painting. The younger children fawned and lionized over the miniature replicas of their island's drakes with sweet coos and gentle chin rubs to which the hatchings and their adult counterparts took to with wholehearted delight and patience even when they tended to get a little too grabby or smothering, a testament to Hiccup's pre-human introduction handling preparation and the general trust they held towards the tiny humans. A bright chuckled couldn't help but tickle his lips as he passed by Mr. and Mrs. Ingerman dishing out their own share of love and hospitality to Goliath as if he were a member of the family, the titan-wing more than happy to call Meatlug's surrogate herd his own. Even Gobber, who sadly wasn't able to celebrate the festivities with his Boneknapper due to he and his new family settling away to their native home, still managed to keep his smile jolly and bright with his elaborately decorated elk headdress of holly and fire orbs by handing out neatly wrapped gifts from a sack to both children and dragons alike, his bellowing laughter bringing rosy cheeks and grateful puffs of smoke to all.

A thick layer of moisture clouded his olivine eyes.

The dragons were back and everyone was together once more, like a family.

Expect…

A light punch to the shoulder struck him out for thought but like any "light" punch from Aarne it still hurt.

"Why would you-?" Gustav asked the grinning blond, his index finger pointing up to the severed toe dangling from the rafters below them. With a spirited smile and a chuckle under his breath he returned the sentiment, the lighthearted exchange breaking both the ice for the both of them.

"Gustav, I know it must be really hard for you seeing everyone with their dragons, but you really did a wonderful thing." Aarne grinned as he lightly ruffled Gustav's wild hair before pulling him into a consoling embrace. "Thank you."

A whisper of a smile brightened the young Viking's face for a moment before waning to blankness and thought.

"Aarne, where did Fanghook go?"

"I don't know?" It was his honest answer and he wished he did know or at least could muster up the strength to encourage him with optimistic words and heartfelt promises, but the last thing Gustav needed was someone giving him false hope. He'd been through enough.

Just as he was about to release Gustav a slight creak from the Hall doors drew Aarne's eyes forward.

The weak grating of the door slowly opening and the chill night air wisping its way into the chambers went virtually unnoticed between the loud music and distracted merriment and yet Aarne couldn't help but smirk widely as a lemon and violet hued head with a large crate between its jaws peeked through the now wide opening with scanning gold eyes and the utmost silence in his steps.

Soft murmurs and gesturing were directed towards the slinking Nightmare and while the stir was enough warrant Aarne's attention, the young sorrowful soul in his grasp remained oblivious to the revelation just over his shoulders.

This is going to be too good.

"Wow," Aarne pushed Gustav back as he casual brushed his long bangs to the side with a sly chortle before falling back into place. "Man, wouldn't wanna be you right now. You brought back everyone's dragon, except yours."

A bitter frown spread over his face. "Yeah, you know this is not help… At all."

With Gustav properly prepped for the reveal Aarne took great pleasure in giving the boy a gentle nudge in the right direction.

And in that instant all of Gustav's fears and doubts left him as his eyes locked with those of the familiar figure before him.

"Fanghook!"

A deep joyous gurgle echoed from said Nightmare as the distance between the two lessened with each hastening stride they took till the only distance between them was a mere foot. They paused, as if their next step would cause the other to vanish as if all this were only a fever dream. That would have just been the worst feeling for Gustav, to take that step forward and find himself under the covers in bed as if his wild adventure never happened.

Please be real, he wistfully wished before shutting his eyes tight, holding his breath, and hastily wrapped his arms around his friend's solid belly. Fanghook, was home.

Music began to soften, decrescendoing to a faint whisper as eyes locked onto the heartwarming sight of boy and dragon reuniting at last like the final movement to a grand epic. Soft cheers welcomed the fashionably late Nightmare whose presence brought forth the breath of the sea and joy to the one person who needed it the most, Gustav.

As happy as Gustav was for having his friend return to him, he couldn't help as he released his grasp and flicked his index finger in a chastising manner, the overbearing prickle of frustration stinging over his spine. "Bad dragon! Very bad dragon! You scared me to death!"

Despite Gustav's touch guy act and mother hen-like posture, Fanghook could still make out the faint curl of a smirk on the end of his crooked smile and the flicker of teary glaze that desperately wanted to trickle down flushed cheeks. He wouldn't have wanted any other look on his rider's face; a look that conveyed joy, anger, worry, relief, and love all in one, it was the truest expression of missing someone if he ever saw one. A chill of eagerness and steel chattered his jaws slightly.

"Don't ever stay away that long again-! And what is in your mouth?!" He would have ranted more if not for the distracting pendent crate and scrapes that seemed to echo within the confines of Fanghook's maw but before he could get any answers from his scaly companion his senses were blindsided by dankness, darkness, and the stench of fishy dragon saliva.

Just as quickly as Fanghook released the crate and latched onto his rider he let go with a big helping blob of drool, drenching Gustav's helmet covered head like a waterfall of slime, a cringe of both exaggerated and legitimate disgust tweaked his fellow riders' faces as they felt as if the oozing liquid was trickling down their own skins. Just the sound of those thick threads of spittle plopping onto the stone floor made Aarne want to hurl - ironically, dragon saliva makes for excellent floor polish.

"Ha-ha, yeah, you sure found my helmet…" Gustav unconsciously chimed as he adjusted the still warm metal atop his crown before wiping away the excess moisture sliding down his face casually till his words caught up to him. "Wh-Hey! You found my helmet!"

Fanghook let out a confirming roar, his wings spread out as he showed him his spent Dragon Scale with certain pride.

"That's where you've been?"

Reaching out to gently glide his left hand over the device's smooth surface, he couldn't help but feel a kindred yet foreign smile slowly ignite through his core like a wave.

He had been so worried. Worried Fanghook would have run out of serum and become stranded. Worried of the likelihood that he'd never seeing him. Even throughout the beat the clock return mission he had been on edge over whether or not he'd be able to prevent volatile eggs from detonating and the subsequent fallout if anything terrible were to happen to not only the hatchlings but to his people, dragons, and friend that the loss of his beloved helmet seemed so insignificant when compared. Don't get him wrong he loved his helmet. It was an extension of himself, his longtime item of comfort when he needed strength and support. It grounded him from such a young age when his mother placed the then too large metal bowl with horns onto his three-year old head, telling him it his and nothing from the forces of nature to the inevitable passage of time was going to take that away from him. Yet despite its irreplaceable magnitude, he had come to terms with its absence and the idea of never seeing it again because all he wanted back was Fanghook. Fanghook: his most selfless and incredible friend.

Like a breath of fresh air, all his woes were gone.

"Fanghook, thank you," Gustav whispered, his eyes locking with large dilated spheres of honey-gold and onyx. "You are amazing."

Loud parades of cheer and laughter boomed high towards the rafters as boy and dragon shared in a final winged enveloping hug, Mrs. Larson even shedding tears of joy as both her boys looked to her with their crooked smiles before marching over to join her in on the family reunion.

Oh how they tried her patience and limits, but oh how she loved them dearly.

"Well would you look at this!" Mulch sang out as he and Bucket examined the contents of the case Fanghook had brought with him, a crisp bottle of cream-toned ambrosia in the blonds hand while his pudgy companion pulled out a leather wrapped artifact with a two letters and card pinned to the side:

Happy Snoggletog.

From Dragon Island to Berk.

"Hiccup's sent us all yaknog!" Bucket cried.

"Oh thank Thor," the village respired in delight before getting cold glares from Aarne.

"Here, lad," Mulch smiled as he handed the neatly bound parcel and one of the letters to the young man. "It's addressed to you."

Taking the weighted gift and slowly undoing the thread that bound the parchment shut, Aarne's expression softened to the familiar quill strokes that were Hiccup's penmanship:

Aarne,

Happy Snoggletog. I hope this letter gets to you in good health. It's been a while. Last we meet, we didn't exactly leave on good terms. I said and did some things that I regret and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt or humiliated you in any way. You didn't deserve that and I'm sorry. If anything, you deserved the truth more than anyone else, not just because it was you against the Nightmare, but because you're one of my best friends. You've always been there for me, even when you didn't have to, I see that now and I hope one day you can forgive me.

Until then, I hope you'll accept this gift as the start of a new friendship. I did my best to salvage what I could from Breakneck Bog and it may not look the same as if used to or ever replace your mother's, I hope it fills your hands just right and keeps you safe. Thank you so much, for Gustav, Berk, the dragons, everything.

Happy Holidays & Best wishes.

Your friend, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

Peeling his eyes away from the letter his focus turned to the strap bond parcel in hand, his fingers slowly undoing the polished bronze button that secured its binding and allowed its untethered weight to drape open to the reveal of an old/new friend.

As Aarne dragged his calloused digits over the cool matte head to the simplistic yet decorative cheek engravings down to the crisp polished bevel and bit he could have sworn he felt the tender warmth of his mother's fingertips haunting over his every touch as if she herself was giving approval to the restorated memento. She would have been so proud. The wound leather grips at either end the solid wood handle provided that extra support for his strong hands and the pommel make of carved stone mirrored the likeness of the skulls that adorned his belt and shoulder pads while the spherical ore of Gronckle iron above the eye secured the double-edged wedge in place, allowing the entire tool a hardy weight without being unbalanced or cumbersome to wield. It was robust yet tasteful. Recognizable while distinct. Truly, this was a gift that took more than just time and effort; it took love.

With a confident grin he gave his axe a quick pivot with the right hand, loving the swished that whispered by his ear and how it seemed to echo each grind and every hammer of Hiccup's tools onto its inanimate form before clasping it tightly, never wanting to let it go.

This was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Happy Snoggletog!"

…

It was late.

Families had begun to settle towards home leaving the festivities within the Great Hall had dwindled down to the soft chatter of tables and benches being stacked and pushed to towards the walls for those in need of a places to rest for the night till their homes could be properly renovated while several dragons took care to guide the less than eager to slumber hatchlings and children to dreamland after such a long day of adventure, celebration, and spirit.

With everyone settled in snugly for the night the overhanging lanterns over the hall rafters and the village streets dimmed to soft warm glows and as the passing northern gales whispered soothing lullabies, the isle of Berk fell into a heavenly silence and drifted into sleep.

Meanwhile, atop the overviewing hill that domained the Haddock home, Stoick the Vast silently listened the crackling fire as he sat on a chair by its warmth and began to unfold and reread the tan letter in hand for what felt like the thirty-seventh time:

Even as I write this down I'm not too sure where to start but I guess the best place to do so would be the beginning.

I respect you. Not only as a leader to your people and warrior but as a father. Being a dad has to be one of the most self-sacrificing and challenging jobs in a man's life and I can only imagine how doing it alone can make it any easier on someone who's at the end of the day just trying to make ends meet. I know personally I wasn't the easiest to raise and I didn't make it any better on others as I got older, heck I got worse because I felt I had something to prove to myself not to others; but to her, it was different. To Hiccup, you're all she had to prove to.

I'm sorry for taking away all you had left and I'm sorry for all the damage I've done to you and Berk and I hope someday you'll forgive me, but I'm not sorry for loving and wanting to protect your daughter from harm.

Hiccup's changed so much since the first time I met her. She's more sure of herself and she's not afraid to stand up and fight when need be and you should see her when we fly together, it's when her smile's the widest. She's my best friend and to someone who's had so little of those in life, I'll do whatever I can to make sure she's happy and I know the one thing she wants in this world, more than anything, is for you to be proud to call her your child. I can't force you to say that but I know I'm proud of her and I hope you are too.

Hopefully once spring rolls by and the hatchlings are settled in we can all meet again and start our introductions properly.

Happy Snoggletog from Dragon Island to Berk.

Toothless Night Fury

Letting out a smirking huff at the sight of said Striker's "dragon scratch" he knew the drake had a long way till his calligraphy was up to par and he could stand to be knocked down a peg or two but it was obvious he cared for his daughter and took great lengths to make her smile.

And that was all he ever wanted her to be.

Giving the paper a light tap and slowly grunting himself out of his seat Stoick made his way towards the bookshelf and neatly stored away Toothless' letter into a small box where he stored the very first letter Hiccup had sent to Berk since her departure, his fingertips brushing over both overlapping sheets before letting out a content yawn and making his way towards his welcoming bed to join in sleep with the rest of his retired village.

This had been the best Snoggletog he had had in years.