Stratoc- Eee, more mass reviews! I'm highly flattered. It was fun to write Astrid and Merida bickering, because they're so similar and care about Hiccup. In Merida's case, however, the affection is platonic.

(Confession: I made up most of these formalities. Not sure what the actual ones would involve.)

Hiccup's been away from home for a month, but Frigga's Promise was four months ago. No wonder he still remembers it clearly.

The Inked Pen- Yes, oh Loki. If you like him, you make like him in my fic The HTTYD Easter Special.

"Have a seat, please," Loki said. He patted the bed with one hand and balanced the altar with the other.

I didn't want to displease the trickster god, so I sat. A pot burned on the floor, with smoke and the smell of burnt dragon nip mixed with the smoke.

"Incense burner. Popular in the East," Loki said. He approached, and I stood up straight. "Thank you, highness."

"Um, you're welcome. For the altar?"

He nodded and stroked the fox's carved fur. "It's been many years since I helped Odd open the Bifrost. He must be in his late thirties by now. I ought to visit him. Thank you for reminding me of brilliance in small, apparently useless forms. I made a handsome fox."

A smile lit his pale face, and it made him look human. His dark eyes reminded me that he wasn't.

I let him reminisce. He was a god, after all, and he could find some way to smite me. Loki's boots made no sounds as he paced back and forth between me on the bed. He was skinny and small for a man his age, which was probably several hundred years; if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he was a handsome man born a runt like me.

"So," he said turning sharply to me, "why did you seek an audience?"

I swallowed, sat up straight, and met his eyes. "I wish for you to make one of your men mortal. A man called Alvin the Treacherous."

"Oh. That's it?" It seemed to amuse Loki. "I'm guessing some idiot tried to kill Alvin and is now in fear for his life?"

"You could say that."

Loki's thin cheeks ballooned; he threatened to laugh. "Who was the stupid man who wanted to kill my trickster servant?"

"I was."

Loki had the tact to swallow his laugh, so that only a strangled chuckle came out. His face lost the amusement however, and he managed only one comment.

"You're not a man; you're only a boy."

"Tell that to Alvin. He wanted to sew my mouth shut. I was acting in self-defense. It's a long story."

He sat down on the bed next to me, at a chaste distance. A boyish expression lit up his face. He wanted to hear everything.

"Son of Odin and Frigga, it really is a long story, and now is not the best time," I said wearily. "But the upshot is that ever since I did the throat-slitting, Alvin has made attempts to - not to kill me, but he's making my life a living Helheim."

"Helheim's not that bad," he responded. "My daughter runs the place. Smart girl."

"I believe you. But anyway," I took a deep breath, "Alvin has been misusing his immortality. Maybe once he was a good servant, outwitting those stronger than him and filling the world with amusement, but now he merely wants to pick on a Viking who defied him, who outsmarted him." It's not about training dragons anymore.

"He's hurt you, hasn't he? You've got the look in your eye."

I took off my cloak, unbuttoned the front of my shirt and opened the collar. Loki whistled when he saw the fresh bruises. Not in a, "Oh, those bruises really accentuate your chest for the better" way but, "who in the name of Helheim did that to you and why would they?"

"Son of Odin, you're known for valuing intelligence, especially in those who are ostracized and under-powered. Odd like me had a broken leg, and he was the smallest in his family of step siblings, but he decided to fight a Frost Giant much larger than him with nothing but a wood carving. You helped him travel to Asgard because you recognized what he could do."

"I did."

"I ask you to make Alvin mortal so as to even the odds. He is large and strong, with an army at his beck and a gifted tongue for spreading lies. Let it be a fairer fight than it has been."

"A fairer fight." He scratched his beardless chin and considered. "A man should never pick on a child, no matter how resourceful the child is. He's destroyed your reputation, gotten you exiled; there is no other reason for a Viking to be so far from home."

I dipped my head in a nod.

"You seem resourceful, having tamed a dragon and survived with the Scots, but I need to see your wits in action."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been hanging around the castle, listening." Amusement crept back into his voice. "Some of the lords believe you are just a puppet diplomat; that you cannot help bridge the Scots and Vikings who have been feuding for years. If you can prove them wrong, make actual peace, then I will make Alvin the Treacherous mortal."

That didn't seem fair. "Alvin gave them a device that I invented. He must have reverse-engineered it so that they could capture my dragon. I know he's been spreading rumors, because there's no one else who could."

"So now you see what game to play." He let a grin light up his face. "A battle of wits to see if a child can defend himself and his reputation. A chance to build bridges while crafty men wait with torches to burn them. It will be exciting!"

Yeah. Exciting to a bored trickster god. Why was I surprised?

"Loki, how will I know if he's mortal? Will I have to cut him up into several pieces to make sure?"

He thought about it, and reached into his black vest. A shimmering, familiar sword. Endeavor! He had repaired my sword!

"I knew your ancestor Hamish," he said, handing it to me. "Another resourceful Hiccup who knew to respect me. He forged Endeavor with his own hands and dedicated its blade to my service."

I held the blade. It wasn't the same Endeavor that lay in twisted pieces; this sword felt lighter than air, as if hewn from moonlight. The rust had vanished, and the Berk crest shone with pleasure from the handle. I may as well have been holding a sharp silver feather. Loki had made a shallow, beautiful replica.

"When this blade breaks, you know that Alvin can be killed." For the first time his lips throbbed with fury. "A man who would break a great sword does not deserve the gift of immortality. Hamish was one of my friends. How else could he have survived exile and return to Berk?"

Hamish seemed to have a lot of immortal male friends as well as a Scottish princess for a lover.

"I know how you feel about this blade; I can see it in your face. It's a piece of perfection, a testament to my genius." He tossed his head back as I shook my head. "Don't try to lie, it's the first sword you wielded with confidence. But you have blacksmith burns, meaning you can forge another one. A better blade."

"I don't do swords. My teacher- Gobber- he had me make repairs and such. They're not practical on Berk, so I've only built inventions involving axes and bolas."

"It's your choice. But if you do make a decent sword," his eyes glittered, "dedicate it to me. Just as a token of your devotion."

"If I make a decent sword." I shrugged. "Maybe I can ask Morgan to teach me the craft, if he ever stops handing me weapons to repair."

"Maybe." Loki seemed to lighten up. "I better let you go now; your dragon is growling from outside. If you speak to those lords like you spoke with me, then Alvin should be dead by the end of the week."

"I didn't speak with you that well, considering . . ."

"Considering I caught you after a tiring afternoon, after the queen chewed you out and the lords have your invention?" His eyes twinkled. "Your fear and determination kept your words in line. Know your goal, and know your fear."

"I don't understand."

"Understand soon then. I'll be taking my leave now." He stood, and his black cloak swished around him. "Remember what Jason, Frigga's mortal said: 'You need the chiefs' sympathy but not their pity, and you need to tell them a good story. Straddle the line between Conqueror and child.'"

"How did you know he said that?" I stood up as well.

"I'm the trickster god. I remember every bit of good advice for small heroes." The cloak wrapped around his head, and he vanished. The pot of burning dragon nip disappeared with him, but the scent remained. It made my head spin as I hung my cloak.

It was the first time I had been allowed back in my room for weeks. The water felt colder as I swirled it between my hands, watched soap wipe the grime away. I knew now how to wipe my fingers properly on the basin towel, slip a few drops of water behind my ears to reduce tension. A clean shirt, plain brown and slightly baggy, made me feel almost human.

I left Endeavor in the room. A glittery sword would attract too much attention, and Merida would ask questions. Loki wouldn't let anything happen to it till Alvin died.

Toothless walked with me down the stairs; we heard loud, drunken singing and bagpipes. King Fergus was leading his soldiers on a rendition of "Mordu, Mordu" as the other lords glared with boredom. Queen Elinor smiled and drank a small goblet of wine, staying a safe distance from her husband's swinging arms. Their sons sat with Merida, who talked intently. If they were courting her, they had an odd way of showing it; no trophies as gifts, flowers, or even restrained gestures.

The lords looked up sharply as we walked in. Their eyes fixed on my dragon; he narrowed his yellow pupils in response. Fergus kept singing, oblivious, and the musicians took their lead. I gave the lords a tight smile and edged towards Merida and the sons, feeling I could better negotiate with teenagers than with adults. This was just another day at the Dragon Academy, preparing for a great quest or treasure hunt.

"Good of you to join us!" Merida said, a plate of cakes in front of her. Her brothers popped up at the other end of the table, squished between Wee Dingwall and Wee Macintosh, and eyed her. She pressed a finger to her lips and slipped the cakes under her table. Wee MacGuffin made a stomping sound and spoke.

"Wee MacGuffin says you spoil them rotten," Wee Macintosh said. "They wouldn't run rampant if you didn't let them."

"That's not my fault." Merida picked up an apple and took a large bite of it. She grinned through a mouthful of apple juice. "Sweets are the only way to get them to listen. If their teeth rot, it's their loss."

Giggles faded beneath the table. Wee MacGuffin spoke more. Wee Macintosh translated.

"Apparently the boys at the MacGuffin household are on a tight leash, raised on military discipline. They have to report to lessons every day and keep their boots clean. He- I mean, Wee MacGuffin- has to set an example for the rest of them."

"I don't have to set an example," Merida said. "And I shouldn't. Last time I did-"

"Yes?" Wee Dingwall asked innocently.

"I embarrassed you all last time I tried to set an example," Merida said, biting her lip. "And nearly got our clans murdering each other; that was quite a kerfuffle. I don't want the boys doing that."

"I don't think they would," I said softly.

All four looked at me.

"Why not?" Wee Dingwall demanded, leaning over the table.

"Because-" I looked to Merida.

"You can tell them your theory, Hiccup. They don't bite. Well, Wee Dingwall does, but I'll punch him if he shows a single fang."

"That's what berserkers do," he grumbled. "Teeth are very useful weapons."

I took a deep breath, thought of Elinor's lessons, her legends and historical facts.

"It's because I've seen how the boys work together as a team, to protect their family and their sister." I nodded at Merida. "They have a strong bond at such a young age and such strong love, even if they have atypical ways of showing it. They actually remind me of two twins who grew up on my island."

Apparently that sent out a different message: "Story time!" Each firstborn son huddled closer and leaned forward, and even Merida turned to watch my face. I could feel the triplets cupping my trousers with crumb-covered hands.

Odin help me. "So. Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Typical brother and sister. Enjoy punching each other more than anything else in the world, except using their dragon to-" I paused, remembering my audience, "- tip yaks."

"Tip yaks?" Merida raised an eyebrow.

"Tip yaks." I nodded. "It was their way of causing trouble. You wouldn't these two would be more than pranksters. Or kinky Vikings. But then some bad Vikings took their dragon." The Outcasts also took me, but I'm not important.

That was the cue for them to lean in closer. Some of their bench-mates also turned to listen.

"They what?" Wee Macintosh asked.

"The twins have a two-headed dragon. Each twin rides on a different head." This seemed to impress my small group. "If the twins fight, the heads fight as well. In essence, it's like having a dragon version of them.

"But anyway, a group of rogue Vikings took their dragon, tied it up and carried it off on a ship. Ruff and Tuff got angry. That's not unusual for a Viking warrior. What was unusual was that they stopped fighting each other and started fighting together. They became an unstoppable team."

I take no credit for the ballad that would erupt from my little anecdote, about how Ruffnut and Tuffnut smashed about twenty Outcasts by covering each other's backs. The twins were quite pleased when they heard bards singing about them. Who knew that bagpipe players could listen to Viking diplomats and play at the same time?

I was careful with what I said as well. The other reason the twins had kicked Outcast butt? Because the Outcasts had taken me, and because the Outcasts had called me "Dragon Conqueror." No need to make myself a Viking in distress and invite pity.

I ended with this point: "You may think that simple bickering and no discipline can tear a family apart. Sometimes it can. But a family will come together if a wicked person or thing threatens it, like a rogue Viking, and that family will stay united. No matter what."

Silence from under the table, and from my audience. Merida gave a small clap, as if I had performed a difficult monologue in front of a stage. I felt the small hands slip something sticky into my hands. I looked down and found a plump cake there.

"There's something I don't get," Wee Macintosh speared a chicken. "The twins were protecting their dragon? Isn't it the other way around?"

I shook my head. "It works both ways. When you bond with a dragon, you become its friend, not its master. You watch each other's backs." I patted Toothless's head. "I can hardly figure out who has saved the other more: me or Toothless. It's the same with every dragon and his rider."

"That's not what I heard." Wee Macintosh tore into his chicken the way Snotlout would. "I heard they have a massive protective instinct that makes them go nuts and set everything on fire. That's why the Vikings want to learn to ride them."

Breath caught in my throat. Toothless intently at the black-haired teen.

"Toothless has not set things on fire every time I'm in danger," I said coolly. "He usually just tries to catch me if we're falling or hisses to make people go away."

"Toothless is a sweet dragon!" Merida admonished Wee Macintosh. She picked up a fish, let Toothless swallow it, and she petted him. "If I didn't have Angus, I'd be seduced by him entirely."

Toothless laid his head against her arms, closing his eyes with bliss.

"You are a spoiled reptile," I told him. He batted his tail at me.

"You let him do that?" Wee Dingwall asked with shock.

"Not much I can do about it," I admitted, putting the tail down. "Toothless does what he wants, except eat all the fish at home. It took me ages to learn how to bond with him."

"But I thought you were a Dragon Conqueror!" Wee Macintosh broke in. "They say that you conquered a dragon the size of a mountain and the unholy offspring of lightning and death!"

Toothless opened his eyes and hissed at Wee Macintosh for bringing up the last part. Merida shot the young lord a dirty look. That gave me time to shut down my automatic "Dragon Trainer" response.

Straddle the line between Conqueror and child. Use the title that Alvin gave you as a weapon.

I did what Elinor taught me and straightened my back. No one could accuse me of withholding information now, and Alvin could get the same knowledge from academy spies. I smiled a wan smile and looked all the lords' sons in the eyes, and revised my response.

"I did conquer a dragon the size of a mountain, but I trained the unholy offspring of lightning and death after shooting him down from the sky. So, I've only conquered one dragon."

Wee MacGuffin stood up and asked something. Wee Macintosh opened his mouth to translate, but I already knew what he wanted to know.

"How did I do it? With a lot of trial and error." I leaned back. Toothless returned to my lap, ready to reenact the night we never forgot. I placed the triplets' cake on the table and started narrating again. This time everyone at the table listened. The bagpipes stopped played. The candles went low, and I swore I heard a low chuckle and the swish of a black cloak.

Loki had known what Jason had said on Frigga's Promise. Maybe he had also known why I had failed to defend myself on that island. Maybe this was a second chance.

The lords then came over as well. Fergus and Elinor tried to wave them back, but they stood a distance from their sons and watched me. By then I was describing my first proper flight with Toothless, so I was able to focus on the sensation of falling past the threatening mountains.

The lords' eyes told me one thing: I couldn't get away with clearing my own reputation. I had to listen to them as well. So much for second chances.