AN: Another chapter. A bit shorter this time. I promise next one is going to be long.
"Hiccup! Wake up, son," the low, rich voice stirred the boy to consciousness. He turned his head slowly to the direction of the voice, already regretting leaving the fluffy and warm texture of the pillow. A mild headache hit him as he tried to sit up.
"Ya slept long today. Good," his father said, close by as the boy put a palm to his head, letting the morning blurriness of vision leave him. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, enjoying the last moment of darkness before the day began.
Seven really had not joked about side effects, tiredness and all.
Seven. Toothless.
He sat upright, drowsiness forgotten.
"How are ya feelin today?" Stoick asked, delighted to see his offspring with so much more energy than he had been showing.
Stoick could not read emotions well, so he did not see the glint in the boy's eyes and the clenched jaw on his thin face.
Hiccup mumbled something that sounded like a confirmation and greeting in one.
An increased worry grew in Stoick's chest as he saw how his son's body had become much scrawnier than before the "accident". His ribcage clearly outlined, cheekbones visible, and he had dark spots under his eyes. At least his leg had not gotten infected during the convalescence. Not even once. The Chieftain was afraid that Thor might get bored with the miracles he had been sending their way. Stoick thus decided to sacrifice one more sheep and pray for his son to survive this hard, post-injury period.
Hiccup looked to his side and smiled, seeing the wooden cup waiting for him in Stoick's enormous hand. He accepted it with a word of thanks. A warmth hit his insides. Diluted mead. Not a bad choice to start the day, occasionally.
"Son, there's somebody here t' see ya," Stoick said after the boy had finished drinking.
Hiccup scanned the room quickly, only then noticing the tall figure sitting quietly by the dining table, with a warm smile below his trimmed moustache.
"Braedan! I did not expect you back so quickly," Hiccup said, surprised.
"Céad míle fáilte romhat!" The trader greeted warmly in Gaelic, "I've heard what happened, m'boy. Let your braveness and sacrifice be praised," he nodded his head with respect.
Stoick puffed his chest to almost impossible proportions. If you happened to be in a Viking household, approving loudly of the family valour or to anything worth of glory would immediately get you on the family's good side. It was no different in Haddock house.
"Um, thank you," Hiccup answered nonchalantly. Luckily, he had avoided most of the villagers so far; however, he already did not want to experience this constant flow of compliments. Perhaps he would have if Toothless had been by his, apparently, praise-worthy side.
Breadan beamed, "To show my respect I wish to gift the hero with something special," he spoke and strolled slowly to the bed, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. With dramatic flair, he showed his empty palm and then put the other hand over it. Then he removed it, revealing a small, corked flask with a piece of parchment hanging from the top.
"Ah! Excellent trick, friend! Haven't seen ya doin' that one in a long time. Ya need t' show me how yer doin' tha' someday!" Stoick congratulated.
Braedan answered back, smile still plastered to his façade and without breaking eye-contact with Hiccup, "Alas, what's the use of a trick if its secret gets revealed? But...," a flicker of emotions different from amusement shone in his eyes, "perhaps Hiccup would be able to tell you what I did there. I think you can, can't you, boy?" He asked, s the mile frozen on his wrinkled face.
Hiccup swallowed dryly, his pupils wavering before resting on the parchment fragment.
"I-I think I must've missed it," he said as confidently as he could.
"Ah, such a shame!" Braedan said theatrically, "well, nevertheless, here you go, Hiccup! This potion is rumoured to bring your strength back. I hope you'll find it useful."
The merchant held the glass container closer to the boy, who took it with a shaking hand and a fake smile.
"My dearest host," Braedan turned to Stoick, "There is something I would like to discuss with Hiccup. Privately, if possible. I'm sure the young future chieftain wouldn't mind," he said with a genuine-looking smile as he now peered down at the bed-ridden teen.
Hiccup nodded rigidly.
Stoick smiled widely, apparently in an excellent mood that day, "Of course! Of course!" He agreed with his booming voice, "Let me not disturb ya any longer," he added jokingly as he donned his horned helmet and headed towards the door, "I will see ya soon in th' Mead Hall, Braedan. Hiccup," he turned his head towards the boy with a warm smile, "have a wonderful day".
Hiccup smiled back a bit artificially.
Then a silly thought bloomed in Stoick's mind. Was he was making a mistake somehow by leaving his son alone with the newly-arrived merchant? He quickly turned towards the door, not wanting his invitee to see a look of confusion on his face. Braedan was his honoured guest, and he would not waste his day because of ridiculous thoughts. Because that's just what they were: silly.
The door clanged loudly, and Hiccup was left with the foreign merchant.
Braedan's positive demeanour apparently also left with the Chieftain's departure. He regarded the boy with eyes about as emotional as a bare skull's.
Braedan put a hand beneath his white jacket and took out a pipe. Hiccup noticed how the mouth-piece had many bite marks on it, revealing the pink wood beneath the lustre varnish. The older man now man bit on it. Hard as the wood creaked in protest.
"Seven asked me to check on you, the very first thing to do after my arrival, she said" he said with a mixture of irritation and something darker than hatred itself, a staggering change from his usual polite and respectful tone.
Hiccup looked at the flask in the merchant's hand and read the label.
Seven's Exhaustion Remedium
One Sip Daily
No Refunds
Judging from Braeden's look, it appeared he and Hiccup had a common friend. Or enemy?
"Thank you for making sure I was all right," the village saviour answered politely, placing the bottle on the table by the bed making sure he did not do any sudden movements.
Braedan approached the fireplace and spotted a relatively small piece of flaming wood. He carefully took it by the opposite end and used it to light the pipe in his mouth. Then he inhaled deeply.
The boy kept silent. This was also another reason Hiccup let the man stay: the trader could use "magic", as he had demonstrated during his little conjuring trick. Naturally only Hiccup could have sensed it; his father had been oblivious to the act.
Braedan took a seat by the kitchen table and exhaled slowly, looking at the flames. Hiccup now noticed how dull his eyes appeared and how tired he seemed. From the look of it, the foreigner had not come here only to check on him.
"Seven wants us all to get acquainted," Braedan sucked his pipe, "Balerdargur, you may show yourself, now."
Hiccup gasped in surprise as the air glittered and a massive form materialised at the end of his bed. Having a suddenly-appearing pair of very large and very draconic eyes hovering close to his own was not encouraging. The materialised dragon was smaller than Toothless and much more... spiky.
Hiccup emitted another gasp as what he thought were spikes now flattened themselves against the creature's violet skin. Then the boy's mouth opened in amazement.
"You have a dragon!" He exclaimed.
The mentioned dragon lightly strode towards Braedan and lay down on its side, curling its slim and sharply ended tail around itself. Its raised, narrow head surveyed the bed-ridden human, unblinking.
From what the boy knew from dragon body language, the dragon was very interested in him. He shared the feeling in return. Here was one living beast he had never seen before, one not even mentioned in the Dragon Manual.
"I wouldn't say that I have a dragon. Her name is Balerdargur and she's something akin to a friend, a family member or even a beloved pet. It all depends on her mood, but she rarely shows one on her scaled muzzle," he said, looking at the fire. As to prove his point, the dragoness remained impassive.
"Bal-er-dar-gur...," Hiccup repeated the unfamiliar word. Remembering his manners, he showed his hand, palm down, and swirled with it in the air three times. The majestically- coloured creature's eyes widened, and she voiced something between a quiet yelp and a bark, tilting her head.
Before Hiccup had time to react, he was face-to-muzzle with the dragoness, her black pupils tracking his fingers with utmost intensity. After a few moments, the creature turned to the side as if to show her neck and held still.
"Um… what am I supposed to do now?" Hiccup asked Braedan, his view blocked by the purple dragon.
"She is deeming you worthy of scratching her neck," the trader said without a hint of sarcasm, "her wounds have healed, but her newly- grown scales itch."
Hiccup did not have time to reflect on these words as the dragoness placed her neck even closer, almost stabbing his eyes with a few up-standing scales that showed her skin beneath.
He swerved his hand between what he now realized were forked scales and started scratching the skin. It felt much softer than Toothless'. This explained the need of scale protection, then. He also noticed that the skin between the smaller scales was quite scarred, the marks appearing fresh.
That was where the Fury must've attacked!
"So, she's able to disappear and generate lightning bolts?" Hiccup asked as the dragoness purred like a cat.
"From what I was told when I was given her, her species can only create a bit of electricity as a defence. Everything else is a work of her... uh… magic. Well, that was the word Seven told me to use," he elaborated.
"I have a certain vibe it's not really called 'magic', then," Hiccup said, half-sarcastically, pointing out the obvious.
"Yes," Braedan agreed calmly, "Seven's going to handle your education and further development herself."
"Looks like my whole future is planned already. Shame nobody bothered to ask my opinion in that matter. It also reminds me that I don't even know what that future would consist of," the boy scoffed while he continued to scratch Balerdargur.
"You don't?" Braedan turned his head to him as if he had been asked to contribute. It was obvious he was not paying full attention to what Hiccup was saying.
"No. Well... Seven promised me she would teach me how to access Toothless' memories and find a cure for him," the teenaged dragon rider said.
He found himself scratching the air for a short moment before noticing that the dragoness had moved away from him. She now rested exactly in front of the fireplace and had started preening herself, nibbling the edges of her wings.
After another pause Hiccup began speaking, "Is there anything you want to talk about... because I'm really curious about many things right now. Like, how come you knew about dragons and are able to use 'magic'… and yet you never told us Berklanders anything? " he asked with exasperation.
Balerdargur raised her head to regard him for a moment, only to return to her lazy preening. Braedan looked at the fire, the tip of his pipe illuminating with an orange glow as he took a deep breath on it.
"I could've told you that I never helped your people out of the goodness of my heart," the aged man stated emotionlessly, "but truthfully, I did not and still do not care much about you or Berk. If it were only up to me, I would've never come here, sailing through these unforgiving cold waters between islands and sharp rocks. I came here because my teacher told me so."
Hiccup listened patiently and silently to the man's confession.
"When I was young, naive and full of ideas, I thought my life had a meaning. Then I learned that meanings can easily be lost. I wound up losing everything meaningful to me, and I almost died, just barely surviving the ordeal. My life was consequently rebuilt for me, and I was given a new purpose. I was given a power. Everything I needed was handed to me, but for a price... there's always a price," Braedan said darkly.
Hiccup tightened the blankets around him, feeling a shiver running through his skin as the merchant told his tale.
"That 'price' was a promise. The promise to serve a Keeper if I would be asked to do so."
The Viking boy's eyes narrowed, the glint in them making them appear no different from the one the dragoness possessed in her eyes,
"Yes, lad, Keepers. That is their name for themselves, and it is almost all I know about them beside the numbers they have as names. There's also one more important thing you need to know about them," Braedan said, almost nonchalantly.
"They never help you for free. Goodness of their heart, aid in trouble, decency, benevolence: those may seem to be the Keepers' intentions. But remember once and for all, Hiccup, that for them you and I are - and will be always- a means to an end. We are just a cog in the fate Keepers weave, as one of my friends once nicely put it. Now I understand that more than ever. The promise I made years ago cost thirty-two lives of my crew," Braedan exhaled, appearing more tired than sorrowful to dwell on these details, "whatever plans Seven has for you... just remember what I said," he said and raised from the stool with a crack of his knees.
"Would you still have made the promise, even if you knew the outcome?" Hiccup's deadly serious voice stopped the trader from leaving too early.
He turned slowly and solemnly regarded the boy; for the first time he realized he no longer saw Hiccup as one of the crazy, violent and death-obsessed Vikings, a narrow-minded minion of destruction. Involuntarily, a small smile appeared on his face, adding more warmth to his looks and wrinkles.
Obviously, the young one had recently changed. He'd grown up. Instead of asking Braedan questions he would not answer, Hiccup had asked one which would set his future. Hiccup realized that he would not get out of the fate the Keeper had set up for him. Well, if you can't beat an enemy, join him.
"Yes, Hiccup. I would've done the same," he agreed.
Berk's newest hero nodded once, all hesitation gone. His future was set. Only then, did his eyes soften.
"Braedan, I'm really sorry for what happened to your crew. And thank you for sharing your wisdom with me," he put a fist to where his heart was and bowed the Berkian salute, a bit clumsily due to his bed-ridden position," it is only proper for me to now share my tale with you."
Braedan shook his head, "No need, fair Viking. I know all I need to know about you. Your deeds speak much louder about you than any words ever would," he gestured with his head to the dragoness resting by him, "Balerdargur will continue to keep you company. Seven said you need to always have somebody with you who can help you deal with your condition. I don't know what she meant by that, but it's not my place to know."
"I'm sure you understand, Hiccup," was the last thing he said before he quietly strode from the room.
Hiccup did, although that did not help him feel any better. He instead focused on feeding himself. Brooding over himself would not help his situation at all.
"You hungry?" He asked his newest draconic companion, babysitter and guard in one, holding up some of the salted and dried mackerel his father had left as usual on the bedside table, along with a plate of flat bread.
The yellowish eyes widened in curiosity and the head tilted gently. Then the dragoness snorted abruptly, and her eyes slit. She got to a crouching position and jumped gracefully to the rafter, grabbing it with her foreleg. Nimbly, she swung her body and hoisted herself, finishing with a half-somersault.
Hiccup observed intently the acrobatic display. He had not seen such agility since, well, Toothless...
He sighed nostalgically and turned his attention back to the food. He then opened Braedan's "conjured" flask and duly took his one daily sip (remembering not to expect refunds). His tiredness vanished almost instantly, and his mind cleared.
"You sure you're not hungry?" He queried the perching beast, craning his head up. As a response, the scales on the dragon's skin rose with a bony crack similar to the sound the Nadder's quills made, and, one electric buzz later, the boy was left staring at the air.
"All right then... More for me," Hiccup grumbled and got ready to attack the food. From all decisions left to him – at least the few he could control- he could still choose when to eat. He knew it was only pretence and that he had become a pawn in something he still did not understand yet.
Well, it might have been pretence but it made him feel better, even if only just a bit.
"Please come out. Nobody will hurt you," Radzik, the doctor of Braedan's crew, called softly into the darkness. He was leaning at the edge of a sizable den made out of hay and various, colourful pieces of material.
It was the resting place for the crew's only dragoness who, for some mysterious reason, loved to steal the crew's socks (the more colourful the better), shred them and stove them into her bed. She only stole the left socks. What was with that?
Even with the invisible dragoness gone, there was one other being who used this nest. One being that Radzik now tried to console and get to show herself. His comforting would have worked better had he not been doing this for a few hours straight, without any effect.
Berkian weather was as it always was this time of the year: freezing, unwelcoming and chilling. Despite the thick layer or reinforced wood that made up the ship's body, it was still quite cold in the crate-filled cargo hold where the medical practitioner was currently situated.
"Please come out," the senior repeated, for the umpteenth time. Normally his patience would have expired after the first try, followed with a long litany of curses in Polish.
However, he was dealing with a child there. A young, barely-teenaged girl, who was recovering from both physical and mental abuse. She did not deserve to see his temperamental shortcomings.
Radzik produced a small cloud of mist as he sighed. It had been far too long since he had dealt with children, and the girl proved to be everything he ever would have expected (well, more like dreaded) from a child.
She had awakened several days after Braedan had found her. Two days after she had been taken aboard, the doctor had stopped giving her drugs to sustain her unconsciousness, as her body was recovering from all the sleep deprivation of the past.
That recovering natural sleep had been a good sign for him. However, peacefulness ended when she woke up. She reacted naturally at first. The girl screamed eloquently, but there was nothing coherent which he could have recognised as a language.
She tried to fight him, very briefly though, as he pressed her thighs to stop her from kicking with her newly- recovered legs, thanks to Braedan and the amazing cures and technology he had provided.
The girl immediately had stopped her struggle, weakened by her lack of proper nourishment and mistreatment.
Then her eyes had died . Radzik saw how the certain spark in them had simply disappeared and his patient seemed no different from a shallowly-breathing corpse.
At first he had not known what he had done to earn such reaction. At least not until the girl had spread her legs open and started removing her clothes. She had done this automatically, as if this was a past reaction to threats and attacks. He had stopped her instantly.
He had tried not to touch her skin, only the fabric of the jacket she had been gifted with from the crew. He had stuttered in embarrassment, fury and hatred of his gender and how some of them had abused this child. The girl had not even appeared confused. She was dead to the world, as a stone or a puppet.
He did not remember what he had said exactly; the next thing he knew, he was outside, breathing deeply, his hands shaking, and with an intense urge to drink.
He did not know what to do. None of them did. What was Braedan thinking when he took this woman-child in? Braedan was absent as always, trying to overthrow the Empire or scheme something in his cabin.
The girl had become unresponsive after that. She did not even question why her scalp had been shaved bare. She did not question anything, in fact.
Radzik had used in all languages he knew: Polish, Imperial Standard and English. He had tried to explain her condition and that he had to remove her hair because of lice.
He did not ask anything about her, trying to reduce contact with her to a minimum, trying to follow common sense.
Braedan had received Radzik's report and with an impassive face. He had said that he felt sorry for the child; however, he wanted answers about what experiments the Empire had tested on her. Radzik had told him in a few carefully-chosen words where he could stick his desire for answers. The captain had answered calmly that either Radzik would do it, or he would do it himself.
The physician had chosen the lesser evil and attempted to make another blood test after Braedan's repetitious insistence. He had learned, then, that the child did not like the sight of a syringe.
He had learned this quite clearly, as the child had her eyes wide and glued on the syringe. The injector he used did not appear like the typical instrument he had learned to use during his twelve-year old Medicinae Magistrum education.
This Injector was one of Braedan's "toys", along with various others Radzik was gifted with, to help him make his job as a physician easier and more effective. Yes, these dreadful toys helped.
That time however, they currently they had made a traumatised child scream and hide under the bed and the action probably earned her more bruises than all previous weeks spent on the ship combined.
The first one to arrive had been the dragoness, responding to the unusual, high-pitched cry for help.
What happened next still baffled the doctor. The girl had scooted on all fours like a mouse from beneath the bed and had clung to the dragon's leg, trying to hide beneath the scaled chest. The dragoness had looked beneath herself, tilting her head and regarding the small lump of clothes now attached to her limb.
Radzik had hoped it was curiosity. Despite the many years he had spent next to the beastly companion of Braedan, the two had never shared a deep connection. Something about dragons scared him. There was no doubt that they were intelligent and extremely powerful. They were also as unreadable as a rock's surface, to Radzik. He had felt the dragoness could very well have decided to attack and kill the girl for intruding her personal space.
The sharp-tailed creature had not injured the hiding child. She had stood still for a moment and then had sniffed the youngling. She then had snatched the girl by the clothes on her back and trotted away through the small, gathering crowd.
Radzik had run after them, at least once he had recovered from shock. He had dreaded that the former young prisoner was already dead. Instead he had found her in the cargo bay, her brightly-red woollen cap sticking out in the middle of the dun- coloured hay mattress. She had snuggled up against the purple creature and was already fast asleep.
As Braedan was the only one who could communicate with the creature, he had explained later that the child wanted to be protected and had sought a defender in the dragoness.
Balerdargur had understood the young one's plea through her sense of smell and had responded to the girl's needs. The part which Radzik did not want to learn, but had anyway, was that the dragoness had been at the end of her mating period and taking care of the child would satiate, for the time being, her need for a hatchling. Selfish to the core, that blasted dragoness was.
One could certainly not deny that times had now become much more peaceful for the girl.
She still did not want to communicate verbally, but she did not scream anymore when her blood was drawn for testing.
And Radzik had not used that ridiculous piece of so-called advanced technology anymore. Instead he had used a scalpel and a vial, making a small cut on her finger and letting the blood drip. Even though this was much more painful and invasive than the other method, the girl did not seem to mind as long as the dragoness was near. Radzik was just relived that the procedure did not made her scream.
The aged physician had given the girl the name "Lalka" which was Polish for "doll", as he did not want to call her "the girl" all the time.
The crew had become instantaneously enamoured of the youngest addition to the ship's population, and there had not been a day without some small gifts placed on the sock-filled hay that ranged from food, clothes to jewellery.
Remarkably, the girl's appearance had also incurred occasional singing and a general moderation in drinking.
However, it had become soon apparent that Lalka was not interested in any of the gifts.
The food had served only as a snack for her scaly guardian, and the shiny trinkets had to be removed because the dragoness would stare at them for hours, utterly bedazzled to uselessness. Dragons and their love for anything lustrous!
The crew's time of peace had ended several weeks later with the arrival of the Empire soldier and that mysterious white dragoness who had set their course to this region.
It had taken efforts on the captain's side to keep the morale from reaching a dead bottom and to keep the crew following him. For once, he had needed to rely on commands rather than requests.
If the crew rejected Braedan's orders, he and the egoistic dragoness would just continue the journey alone and the crew would have to trust in the hope they would find another captain as effective as their current one.
And so that was how Radzik had ended up calling for Lalka in the cargo hall, cursing at the weather's chilly welcome, their ship docked at this forsaken, Viking-infested island.
He was now huffing into his bony hands and planning his next move when he heard the distinct clicking of claws against the wood behind him.
"W końcu!" He exclaimed, irritated. The dragoness had been gone for many long hours, leaving the child on her own.
Disgruntled by the dragon's irresponsible behaviour, he purposefully ignored the creature behind him as the heavy clatter stopped right behind him.
He had to turn, however, as something pushed his back gently.
"Now what?!" he shouted furiously.
All colour drained from his face. This was not the dragon he had expected.
The tall, sharp-fanged and muscular silhouette of an azure Nadder looked down at him with what Radzik could have sworn was utter boredom. As the doctor was too stunned to do anything for a moment, the dragon bent his neck only to crack it loudly.
The display of randomness changed the atmosphere and gave the physician some time to gather his composure.
The Nadder had visited them once before when they had anchored by an island nearby to visit Braedan. The ship owner had also told Radzik what to do in case of further visitations.
"I will be back," Radzik said politely. Politeness seemed appropriate, even though he doubted the creature could understand him.
The Nadder regarded his departure \only for a split moment. Yet during that moment, the doctor knew that he was being examined as one would study a threat, and he felt strangely exposed.
He came back with a glove-like device he used for all scans and documentation of his patient's progress. He saw the girl had moved and was now sitting upon the sky-blue dragon's neck. He pretended to ignore this and presented the technological marvel to the Nadder.
The next thing he knew, he found himself waking up in an unfamiliar white room . Then he heard two peals of laughter, one which sounded as if it belonged to an adult woman and one to a girl.
Radzik sat up to eye the most bizarre scene he had ever seen in his life.
On a white piece of white material (Why must everything be white? he asked himself) no one other than Lalka lay on her stomach, working with coloured wax pencils on what seemed to be a piece of velum. Other coloured pencils were nearby, floating in the air in a neat row.
Despite this, Radzik had to orient on the proverbial elephant in the room.
Why white? He asked himself, and the laughter died.
He then realised he had said it out loud. Both the drawing girl and the white dragoness model in front of her now stared at him; the first with her usual mistrust and the second with what could only be defined as warmness.
"Ah, Doctor Radzik," the dragoness spoke pleasurably in very clear and softly-sounding English.
He was as much surprised that she talked as that she pronounced his name correctly.
"I'm Seven. How do you feel? I hope Aeon was not too rough with you?" She asked, turning her gaze back to the girl and nuzzling the side of her face, thus turning the child's unwelcoming frown into a childish giggle.
Seven whispered something into the child's ear, nuzzling reassuringly once more, before standing and heading to the physician.
Radzik closed his jaw, cursing mentally on how foolish he must have looked.
He had been living with Braedan for one third of his life; he should have been used to unusual things happening. Not as weird as this, but still...
"I'm... well, Miss Seven- was it?" He said politely as he regained his footing. He was completely uncertain what title should he use to address the dragoness, although the creature made no indication she had anything such as one.
Seven approached and offered her paw which appeared quite like a human hand, even equipped with an opposable thumb and short claws. Radzik did not hesitate this time; he took the peculiar appendage and shook it.
"If by Aeon, Miss, Seven, you mean a blue drake I saw before waking up here, then I can say he did no harm, though he surprised me a bit," he admitted, breaking the handshake.
"I'm happy to hear that. Are you aware of what reason you were summoned here, doctor?" She asked good-naturedly.
"Yes, Miss," the man stated simply. They moved closer to the girl; Seven now lay down in front of her and Radzik kept his distance, which seemed to keep the atmosphere peaceful for the youth, a thoughtful frown again gracing her face.
"Is something wrong, my little star?" Seven asked the child in a motherly tone. The girl bit her lip and pointed at the parchment.
"You have one leaf, then three leaves and five, how many of them would you have next?" She asked beamingly, "Look carefully, there is a pattern here."
Radzik then realised that Lalka could indeed understand English and was doing some... tests? He remembered reading of such examinations during his university years in a book called Psychologia: Mente en Anima Studium ( Psychology: The Study of Mind and Soul).
The girl scribed something on a piece of paper. Radzik added education to the girl's mysterious past.
"Very good!" Seven cheered and nuzzled the hairless child's scalp to the youth's delight. The parchment lifted itself in the air and turned to the blank site," Now, can you draw something special for me?" She asked serenely and received an eager nod, "Can you draw... hmmm," her eyes narrowed slightly as she pretended to think deeply.
For a dragon, her muzzle was extremely expressive, "Draw me something that makes you happy. Now, I need to go and talk to the nice doctor. Don't worry, I have a friend who will keep you company. Here he comes!" She pointed at the wall which, as on cue, opened almost soundlessly. Two figures entered, one humanoid and one draconic.
"Aeon, please attend to our young guest while I am gone," she addressed the Nadder, who wordlessly separated his path from the person next to him. He lay down by the child, who reassumed her task, worries forgotten.
"Braedan, I hope the tour around the complex was rewarding," Seven stood up and flashed a quick smile to Lalka before walking closer, Radzik still in respectful distance.
The weapons trader nodded, hands held behind his back. He also wore white clothes as, seemingly, every other human present in the room.
"Doctor, join us please. We have much to talk about," She invited and the senior complied with a cultured nod and smile.
The wall opened itself again, wings folding upwards onto themselves to form a neat rectangle.
"Madam, may I ask one question?" The physician asked.
"Of course," Seven answered as they strolled through the much darker corridor.
"I am wondering how you manage to strip, wash and clothe in sparkling white every human which happens to be taken here," Radzik noted, more pleasantly than offended; however, he wanted to make a point.
Seven laughed. Both men could not help it but to like this dainty and melodious sign of mirth. It was exactly like a human's, eerily so.
"I only do this to humans I like," she joked, eyes sparkling with amusement, not guilt or embarrassment, "I mean no harm by doing so. I need the place to be as sterile as possible. If it helps assure you, I did not touch any of you while changing your clothes. If you wish, next time I can keep my eyes closed as well," she grinned fully, revealing several sharp fangs a row of incisors and molars which did not escape Radzik's attention.
Omnivorous. Interesting. So much as a human. Eerily so.
Braedan seemingly ignored their exchange. If his leader was content with how things were, the breaching of privacy was a small price to pay. Radzik did not ask any other questions about it.
Hiccup's eyes opened slowly and a droplet of sweat dripped silently from his eyelashes to the bed covers.
There was always a brief sense of serenity after he emerged from his consciousness, a blank state of indifference, no matter what his mind decided to show him.
He took a breath, as if this was the first taste of air in his life.
He had started thinking of his sessions as being reborn again each time. At least that was how it used to work. It had actually become harder for him to maintain his focus after Toothless had disappeared.
Images of tormenting fire were his best companions on these journeys within himself, along with pain, fear and loss. This ruined the originally- enjoyable factor of meditation, and it was becoming almost unfeasible for him to maintain the necessary focus. Never before had he felt the pressure that such loneliness had on him. How weak and insignificant he felt!
He had received promises of power, promises of guidance and even his leg back. Yet he did not want any of this. He had learned already that he was nothing without others. Without Toothless.
"Don't go crazy now," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes.
"Err… well... crazier," he corrected himself, quite accurately.
He reminded himself of what Braedan had said. Would his choice to help his friend also cost him thirty-two lives? He certainly hoped it would not.
His hope would turn out to come true.
It would actually cost many, many more lives.
Above him, the dragoness Balerdargur invisibly continued observing him, completely uninterested by his inner turmoil.
On the secluded piece of land known as Berk, life moved on. Stoick finished another meeting with the Council. His brother still fought to stay alive with his terribly burned body, his wife always nearby and their son trying to fit into the role of second-in-command and deal with the prospect of his parent dying.
Snotlout was thick to emotions, he knew that, but he tried his best. It was what his father would expect from him.
He did not notice his dragon, Firewyrm, was now missing. Even after the battle, things still were hectic on this island in the middle of nowhere, one nobody should have remembered or cared about.
Fishlegs travelled across the hilly landscape, looking for the missing dragons without success, trying to quell his anger and jealousy of what Hiccup saw, heard and experienced.
Where were all of the dragons?
This was not for Fishlegs to know.
Not yet.
Ruffnut threw another gutted rabbit on the pile and wiped her forehead in the hot and musty room. She knew the rough basics of cooking and butchery as every Berkian woman did. The work was silent for her; other women in the Mead Hall kitchen had quickly stopped trying to involve her in mundane gossiping as she huddled herself in the corner and did her work.
The smell of blood, skins, flesh and cold was all worth it to the normally-feisty blonde. She did not need to think, not about dragons, not about her mother stopping drinking for once. And certainly not about how her mother had become the loudest and most-slurred voice against incorporating dragons into the society. The woman had made her point clear, first by shrieking and then by running with a log of wood after the panicked Zippleback her kids brought home.
Luckily, the woman had been in her usual post-drinking state and, after a short dash, she had only hurt the ground by pivoting face first into it. The two-headed dragon had disappeared the following day, joining an apparently terrified cloud of wings, shining scales, emitting cacophony of roars, squawks and throaty gurgles as it winged off the island.
Her brother spent most of his time at the house working on pottery, of all things! Not that he was bad at it; on the contrary, he was considered the most gifted in the trade by many villagers.
However, instead of projecting his talent into work, Tuffnut kept himself busy with nothing particularly creative, just drab utility ware.
His best friend was occupied more and more with leadership duties, his sister was strangely silent and moody, not even fighting with him anymore. Life after the destruction of the Red Death sucked for Tuffnut. He wanted a change of pace, Something to happen to switch Berk from the gloomy aura which seemed to infect everybody.
Celebrations after the won fight had died out. People just raised one, quite important, question: "What now?".
It would have been so much better if something happened and ended this period of misery!
Something would actually happen.
In fact, tonight.
The sun was nearing the end of his daily journey, descending in red and orange hues on the calm ocean. The days were much shorter up North and much, much colder to what Amyna was normally accustomed from her childhood in dry and hot Trepizond.
However, concentrated blasts of cold wind mixed with sporadic drifts of snow did not stop her daily routine as she straightened up from a kneeling position on a small prayer rug. She turned opposite from the sun and calmly rolled up the piece of material.
The deck of the ship was almost empty: most of the crew was inside, hiding from the cold. They used a shift rotation system with a large hourglass to determine whose turn it was to go up.
As during her prayer, she did not lift the hood from over her head. She wore a long and heavy cloak densely padded with fur. It helped her get through the unwelcoming climate.
Without a word, a brutish man rushed towards her and waited for her to give him the rolled seccade, which the soldier quickly put in a decorative sack and then rushed away from her sight.
Nobody on the ship wanted to maintain eye contact with the only woman on the ship for longer than it took to get the order, bark "Yes, Sir- I mean Ma'am!" and then escape to do what was told with unquestionable diligence. Overall, it was a harmonious coexistence, even if inspired by mortal fear.
That mortal fear was the same reason which had almost caused her to go on her next military operation alone. Kyndal had been true to his word, as always, and had covered for her about the loss of over thirty shipmates in a non-battle situation. The supervising officers had called her in for a formal meeting to hear her explanation. She had expected to be removed from her current position, even anticipating solitary confinement.
Instead, she had gotten away with only a written warning and a promise of rank degradation upon further unsatisfactory levels of supervision.
As she had left the office, she had almost run into an innocent clerk who moved with a pile of documents, deep in thought.
Whatever Kyndal was doing now since the last time she saw him, he had become somebody very important.
The Empire's Military law did not bend for anyone. Especially not to those capable of wielding Tagma. The more power one had, the closer watch the Empire paid to those individuals.
Still, she saw a mistake in her actions. She had predicted that the crew made of the worst individuals the Mainland had to offer would not leave her alone.
She had let her anger take control over her, even though she was expected to execute standard disciplinary action upon her underlings. It should have ended with a lashing. It had actually ended with everybody who had dared resist her discipline to be left near dead. These men were like beasts, and they would be treated as such.
The rage still burned within her. She still saw in those criminals, now hastily obedient with eyes full of fear as a primal form of respect, the thugs who murdered her family and scarred her.
It was foolish to cling to the past, and she knew that. Her previous experience with outlaws had been one of the biggest considerations made before she was designated for this project,.
Her military career actually had been a brilliant one; she was one of those who were destined to lead and change. She had still rejected all of it for the prospect of building a family and being a mother.
Kyndal had been the biggest supporter of it, "Escape the battlefield, escape this cursed land. Go away with your beloved. I will protect you," was what he had told her when she last saw him. He had not even come for her wedding, although they had stayed in close contact by mail.
The sun had now almost disappeared. It was time to move and satisfy those who counted people as numbers… mainly, by increasing her survival rate.
She was one of life's Users and she was away from the Empire borders, so she could deal with this situation by her rules. As long as the objective was fulfilled, nothing else mattered.
As the small rowing boat was lowered on the gentle tides, she killed all her emotions, turning her piercing blue gaze towards the island in the distance.
Berkians would not expect anyone to approach them from the back, climbing the insanely dangerous, sharp and vertical cliffs.
It would take only one person and one dragon to defeat that whole posse of life-long trained warriors.
The tiny dragon moved slightly beneath her cloak. Away from prying eyes, Amyna slid her gloved hand beneath the cloak's buttons and gently pet Melleth's small head snuggled over her shoulder.
Melleth really was the reason why she still continued, why she still followed orders. As soon as she had been introduced to that tiny, yellow blob of hissing energy, she knew she would not, could not, let go of that new life of hers.
Only those on active duty were ever allowed to have a dragon as a companion. If she ever retired or was removed from armed service, this would mean the end of her relationship with the tiny dragon.
Failure was not an option.
Amyna grasped the paddles and let her strong arms propel the boat, backed up by her will, towards the dark silhouette of the land on the horizon.
It was impossible for her to notice the dark object high above her, observing her every move.
The Nadder turned away from his target with a graceful aerial flip and headed towards Berk to wait for the prey to enter his domain.
AN: A bit of a cliff-hanger there. Something's going to happen, that's for sure!
To those who do not remember what's going on with the little girl. She was saved by Braedan few weeks back and it turned out the Empire used her for some experiments (if you have any other questions, reread the story or send me a PM or leave question in a review).
Important things now:
If I haven't told you that yet guys, thank you all of you for reviews, PMs or more silent support. Cheers. I appreciate a lot that you still stay with me on this story. Thank you.
As always thank you to Fjord Mustang and mysterious frog-chaser for pre-reading. Now I'll also have a new beta-reader HellstormOP. He's great to discuss ideas with. Onwards.
Editor's Notes:
ValVole (the frog-chaser): The scenery is in place, the cannon is away, the author is free. Characters are set, with their traits and psychology. All the pawns are now in place for a first game on the Berkian chessboard. Now... will every unit move as designed, or will there be one or several wild pieces to act out of pattern? Will we get a clear and frank checkmate or a draw that will only leave room to more questions?