Edit notes: Made a significant change to the docks scene (trade gossip), and other refinements.

A foggy sky above the ocean, nothing in sight but the water below, the mist on all sides, and five scaly wingsuits. Their false wings silently penetrated the air, not making a sound to reveal their approach. They flew in a rough V-shaped formation with a black-scaled suit leading the charge. The leader wore no insignia or crest to identify himself.

"Stay on course, guys," the leader, Hiccup, called through his mask. "We'll land in thirty seconds!"

"Same plan as always, right?" Snotlout called back.

"That's right. Get in and get out. Keep your masks on and faces hidden; they mustn't know who we are or where we're from. When we board, keep the guards busy while Astrid and I handle the rest," Hiccup replied.

A few moments passed in silence, save for the whistling of the wind in their ears.

Hiccup took a second to collect his thoughts. They were about to intercept a dragon-trapping ship. It was searching for the Hidden World, or at least, the general area where ships and sailors often disappeared. The warlords of the present had caught on, and, in their never-ending pursuits, persevered to claim dragons. Whether it was for power through enslavement, resources to harvest, or revenge by murder, Hiccup didn't know, nor care.

Not all dragons had heard Toothless' call, and there were always occasional sightings and trappings in the world above, but now the warlords were ramping up their efforts.

New Berk did not stand idle. Their spies misled mapping ships and their tiny navy made a small difference, but the only thing that worked was what Hiccup was doing right now.

A crosswind shook him back into the present. Straight ahead, blurry colours and distant torches were fading into view. After a few beats, the colours sharpened into edges and curves, then outlines.

A lone warship. Decks lined primarily with net-launchers and a few ballistae. The turrets were small and agile, built to shoot down aerial targets, despite said targets having disappeared nearly a decade ago. The weapons were unmanned, thankfully, as the sailors expected no attacks at the moment. The ship was in familiar waters and therefore nowhere near the dragons' ancestral home.

Snotlout and the twins cheered at the sight of the ship. The prospect of violence and peril excited them more than they feared being horribly outnumbered and surrounded upon landing.

"Aim for the sail closest to the stern," Hiccup yelled. "Find the captain's quarters as soon as we board!"

In a moment, they were upon the ship, and they descended and turned in a wide circle to bleed off extra speed and height. A few shocked cries rose from below.

"Wha' the bleedin' Hel?!"

"Look out!"

Hiccup braced himself for what was to come next. Wingsuit-gliding was a fancy form of falling, not flying. Improvisation was necessary upon landing.

Astrid arrested her speed with some sail rigging and a somersault roll on the deck. The twins crash-landed in a stack of barrels, and Snotlout rebounded off a sail before crashing and uncharacteristically laughing at himself. Hiccup was the only one to land in a draconic manner, majestically flaring his upgraded wings in a grand display of flying skill and mechanical prowess.

He hit the deck before the awestruck sailors with a thump, and his friends rose behind him. He flicked open his fire-sword, Inferno, and the otherworldly illusion was complete.

"Ah! Demons! Monsters!" a sailor cried.

"Oh, I get that a lot," Hiccup said nonchalantly. He nearly took off his mask to prove his humanity when he remembered that it wasn't a good idea, being the Chief of Berk. Ruffnut took off her mask in his place.

"It talks—What are you? What do you want?!"

"We're friends of dragons," Hiccup replied. "As for what we want—where's the captain?"

There was silence. The sailors were hesitant to attack; most of them didn't have time to grab armour or anything other than the small swords they usually carried.

Suddenly, someone screamed a battle cry and charged at Hiccup's flank. He whirled around and raised his sword to counter, but there was no need. Astrid engaged the sailor until Snotlout could clobber the distracted man in the side of his skull. He fell to the ground.

Hiccup nodded at Astrid and Snotlout. "Thanks, guys."

Snotlout merely nodded back, with none of his usual boasting. Hiccup turned back to the gathering soldiers, now fifteen-strong.

"Where's the captain?" he demanded.

There was no response.

The fallen man's battle cry had failed to prompt the stunned sailors to action, but the sight of his body did. Wordlessly, the crowd of sailors advanced.

Hiccup knew he and his friends stood no chance in a fair fight, totally outnumbered and cornered, but he had prepared for this. He unhooked a hefty jar from his belt, gave the contents a shake, and hurled it in front of the crowd. Glass shattered and oil splashed across the deck.

"Stop!" Hiccup commanded, but the sailors ignored him, advancing over the liquid. Runny oil and clumps of resin and pitch snaked across the deck—

The mixture ignited a moment too late, surrounding the men in an abrupt inferno, instead of blocking them as Hiccup had hoped. He could not watch as the sailors ran off the deck, screaming and burning, to douse themselves. The flames were not as explosive, hot, or abundant as a dragon's, but they were superior in sticking to things, and in denying an area for a while. Hiccup would've been proud of his incendiary invention, if it weren't for the consequences.

He noticed that the flames were not spreading quickly. Good. He didn't want to condemn the remaining sailors to a watery grave, no matter what wrongdoings they were capable of. The shipbuilders had probably coated the deck with alum to resist the fires from dragons, or perhaps clever Vikings.

Hiccup beckoned for his friends to follow him, and they marched through the flames. The intense heat seared their skin, but their scales kept them safe.

Snotlout laughed, despite the situation, as he realized what Hiccup was about to do. "Time to make an appearance!"

Hiccup nodded back. "Never gets old, eh?"

On the other side of the blaze, three properly armed men stood, trying to appear brave as five scale-clad figures advanced towards them through a wall of flames.

"What do ye' want!?" a burly man demanded. Hiccup identified him as the captain of the ship.

"Information." Astrid ordered, stepping next to Hiccup. "Where are you going—"

"Where were you going, you mean." Ruffnut corrected, as casually as her old self.

"None of yer' business!" the captain blustered.

Astrid marched forward, lifting her axe to the captain's neck. "Then it's definitely our business. Where," she pressed, "are you going?"

The captain hesitated for a moment until his weak resolve cracked. He spoke quickly and nervously.

"We were lookin' for the dragon's nest—"

Hiccup twitched as his words confirmed his suspicions.

"—and we're tryin' to capture enough dragons for an army. They sent us to try n' narrow down the search area, and I tell ya, the boss is Hel-bent on getting those dragons. They say they're off tha' edge of the world somewhere, so that's where we are tryin' to go, if tha' makes any sense."

"Hmm," Astrid slouched slightly, feigning indifference, though her next statement would contradict that. "Let me tell you something. From now on, you will not search for dragons," she ordered.

Silence.

Astrid's axe pricked his skin, and he went pale. Hiccup sighed, knowing that her act was just for show.

"Turn your ship around now and return to whatever Hel-hole you came from."

"I can't do tha', my boss is gonna kill me!"

"Find the dragons, and you will regret every waking moment of your life," Snotlout said., palming his fist "Unless you're actually as worthless as we think you are, that guy will not kill you for showing up empty-handed."

"I—Who are ya? Why are ya here? Why should I listen?"

Astrid lowered her axe and crossed her arms. It was a risky gesture, as being near armed enemies usually called for one to have their weapon out, but it showed that she was unafraid and that she was the one doing the strong-arming.

"You tell me," she said. When nobody responded, she, along with Hiccup, pushed past the men. They made no move to resist.

Astrid went for the ship's wheel, and Hiccup entered the captain's deserted cabin, using his sword as a torch. He burnt all the maps and dumped every navigation tool he could find, save for the ones the captain needed to return to his home port. On a whim, he looked under the captain's bed, finding a journal and a foreign dragon manual.

The ship lurched as Astrid steered it, and a commotion broke out on the deck. Hiccup turned and ran. Bursting through the door, he saw the twins and Snotlout face-to-face against several sailors. Someone had extinguished most of the flames from earlier.

"I don't think ye' get it," a gruff man pointed. "Yer' outnumbered nine-to-three. We ain't listenin' to a bunch o' madmen who drop out o' the sky. Hand over yer' weapons and ye' might just be lucky enough to get a boat back to wherever the Hel ye' came from."

The twins sniggered at each other. Hiccup recognized that look and frowned.

"Looks like Snoggletog has come early!" Ruffnut suddenly announced. Snotlout turned to stare at her, confused.

"We've got gifts for you guys," Tuffnut laughed, pulling out a handful of leaky Zippleback gas canisters. "Free of charge!"

"Oh, wait—EXPLOSIVE CHARGE!"

The twins darted behind a mast, and there was a spark. Snotlout and Hiccup caught on at the last moment, and dove for cover as an explosion rocked the ship.

As soon as the ringing subsided from his ears, Hiccup emerged from his spot, spotting the twins bawling in laughter over several concussed sailors. The latter were lying around the now-burning deck in various places.

"Hey!" Hiccup barked. "That could've killed someone!"

The twins kept laughing. They meant no harm, but they were reckless, even by Viking standards.

"C'mon, Hiccup! We haven't Loki'd anyone in ages!"

Sighing, Hiccup decided that now was the time for them to leave, as their task was complete, and their enemies defeated. He scolded the twins as he walked to the edge of the deck.

"You know that we don't have much of that stuff left. We can't afford to waste it on things like that." He ignored their protests and beckoned his group over to the ship's railing. He relit his sword and waved towards the foggy sea in a signal of some kind.

A torch lit up in the distance, and a rowboat's silhouette appeared. Shortly thereafter, a lone Fishlegs floated into view. He had volunteered to row out their escape plan earlier and had lurked in the fog until the group's mission was complete.

Hiccup took a moment to check on his friends as they waited for Fishlegs to row in, noting that they were back to their old selves. The twins were joking with each other, Astrid was calm and collected, Snotlout was proud of himself, and Fishlegs started nosing into the captain's journal as soon as he rowed close enough for Hiccup to toss it to him. Hiccup knew that the moment they set foot back on Berk, they would revert to their new normals, for life without dragons had changed them.

Once everyone boarded, Hiccup took a final look at the ravaged deck. The remaining sailors on board were out cold or busy putting out fires, save for the captain who was somehow unscathed and staring at Hiccup in shock. Hiccup looked at him in the eye, and spoke.

"We will always be watching," Hiccup lied. Berk had their informants and limited patrols, but he knew that ships always slipped by on their insatiable quest towards the Hidden World. From that point, their fates would lie in Toothless' talons. In a way, Hiccup thought, he was saving these ships by attacking them. Many of them disappeared after straying too close to the dragons' home—Hiccup suspected that the dragons had no choice but to kill to protect themselves and their home. He shivered.

Hiccup turned back to the lifeboat and jumped in. The others began rowing while Fishlegs took his rest. The nature of their wingsuits restricted their raids to the areas around tall islands, so the trip back was rather short—perhaps within swimming distance, but nobody wanted to test that during autumn.

Sighing one last time, Hiccup helped steer back to land, ignoring his friends' chatter about their latest adventure. Their latest mission went well, but Hiccup knew that the Elders back on Berk would hardly tolerate it. They made it clear to Hiccup that the raids were practically inviting trouble to Berk, and he knew it, but he knew that he couldn't stand idle while hunters sought after dragons.

Some part of his mind couldn't let go of that ideal, sky-high dream entirely. Two kinds, flying, feasting, fighting, and living together. If he closed his eyes and thought, he could imagine it vicariously for a blissful moment, until the vision wavered and shattered, exposing the reality behind it when a Bewilderbeast rose from an ocean, or a white-haired man drew his crossbow.

He stared out into the uncertain fog.

The young Chief stepped out of New Berk's Great Hall with a sigh of relief. Getting grilled by the village Elders after a raid was never pleasant, and Hiccup was glad to get it over with. They had questioned every move, every decision in his raids, but at least Fishlegs, in his new role as Chief advisor, always stood up for him.

Hiccup took note of the time. It was midday, and he decided that he could fit in time to unwind and finish his latest invention in the evening, after his Chief duties.

He paced through his bustling village, checking up with various villagers and inspecting their preparations. It was already Dreadfall, and in a few short weeks, it would be time for the final harvest before the big freeze. Preparations were in full swing; drafty homes were under repair, cloaks and blankets were being sewn, and meats were being dried to last the winter. He spotted Snotlout and the Thorston twins helping with some roof repairs, and, for once, he didn't need to nag them into working.

Hiccup's once-arrogant cousin had matured drastically over the long years without Hookfang. He had plenty of time to reflect upon his arrogant lifestyle, and as a result, the egoistic wall that had separated him from reality crumbled. The new Snotlout was more humble and motivated than ever before.

"Hey Snotlout!" Hiccup called. "You've been working hard for most of the day. How does a break sound?"

"Sure thing!" Snotlout set down his tools and came to walk alongside Hiccup. "Maybe you'd like some sword practice for a break?"

Hiccup remembered that sword fighting was one of Snotlout's new strengths.

"Oh! Well, I'm, err, going to be pretty busy this afternoon—"

Snotlout gently patted Hiccup's shoulder. The gesture would've unnerved Hiccup in the past, but he knew that this new Snotlout meant it in a friendly way.

"I know you're nervous about it, but there's no use avoiding it—you can only get better through practice. Hey, a Chief's gotta be good with their weapon!"

"All right," Hiccup replied. "How long?"

"Just for half an hour!"

The two young men traded blows in a fighting ring. Hiccup defended with a dull, unlit version of Inferno, while Snotlout swung a versatile training sword, something in-between a one-handed shortsword and two-handed longsword.

Snotlout advanced yet again, and Hiccup tried something different as he grew tired. He positioned Inferno in the aptly named fool's guard, letting it droop down at the ground, to invite a strike. Snotlout pretended to buy it, raising his sword high above his head in a menacing high guard. Hiccup easily saw through his posture and moved to counter as they swung, finding great leverage in his counter-strike until his wiry muscles betrayed him. Their swords locked. His wrists buckled, and Snotlout's dull sword skipped down Inferno's edge. Hiccup remembered a moment too late that his fire-sword had no handguard, and he frowned when Snotlout's blade struck his hands.

He stepped out of the fight, and Snotlout sheathed his sword.

"You suck," he said, causing Hiccup to wilt, "but that doesn't mean you're destined to be a bad swordsman."

"Really?"

"I don't know if you noticed, actually, but I was giving you everything I got," Snotlout said, chest heaving. "I tried everything, and you blocked everything. You saw through every trick, and I couldn't."

Hiccup scoffed, but Snotlout continued. "I don't mean to brag, but I've practiced a ton with some of the veterans, Gobber and Spitelout, and can hold my own. That means you definitely know your stuff for sure."

"Okay, then how did I lose three duels in a row?"

"You always let me strike first, which is fine, but then you never turn your defences into counterattacks. Eventually, I wear you down. Your lean build is great for quick strikes and dodging, not absorbing blows. You need to take every chance to strike."

"Attacking isn't my kind of thing. It just feels wrong."

"You can't always defend or dodge, and you can't win every battle by defending or running away. It's not just the Viking way just because of pride or honour, but because it makes sense. If you never attack, your foes will grow stronger, smarter, or just get lucky, and they'll come back to ruin you someday if you don't stop them first."

"I'm a pacifist, Snotlout," Hiccup stressed.

"No, that's not what I meant! You don't have to slay every foe, or dragon-hunter, but if worse comes to worst, you can still defeat them and make them look at the truth! You might not believe in fighting, and that's fine sometimes, but you can't choose to not believe in violence when a sword comes at you."

Hiccup paused and pondered Snotlout's words. He realized that he was still holding his sword by his side and sheathed it.

"Anyways," Snotlout said, "You're not bad with a blade in the slightest. You know your stuff, you're quick, and you're not that clumsy anymore. Just take the initiative from time to time, okay?"

Hiccup smiled. "Alright. Since when was my cousin a teacher?"

"Since he realized that he wasn't good at anything other than riding a dragon," Snotlout laughed. "I figured being a weapons instructor was something I could be good at."

He turned to watch the clouds, and Hiccup decided that they had practiced enough.

"I think I had better call it a day," Hiccup said. "I better get going."

Snotlout didn't hear him for a moment. "Huh? Oh, I just realized something—remember our dragons? It seemed like most of our riders had the same fighting styles as their dragons did."

"Huh?"

"Meatlug and Fishlegs liked to play it safe and strike from a safe distance. Astrid and Stormfly were much more nimble on the ground than in the air, and both were pretty good at throwing axes and spines. As for you, well, Toothless was the best at dodging in the skies, and you're definitely hard to hit on the ground. I'd even say that you're both good at quick strikes."

"Hmm, that's interesting," Hiccup said as he turned. "Anyways, I've got to see someone at the docks."

"Sure. See you around!"

Berk's docks were bustling with activity as coins and goods changed hands. The trading rush before winter was at its peak.

Hiccup walked down to get the attention of some of his fishermen.

"Have any of you seen Valka's ship?"

They shook their heads. Hiccup went to ask another group and received a similar response.

Out of all of Berk's former riders, Valka had fared the worst since the great departure. After spending half her life with Cloudjumper and the others, she struggled to return to the normal, grounded way of Viking life. Every few months, she would sail out, alone, on excursions to Odin-knows-where, but Hiccup suspected she had found some way to reunite with Cloudjumper, or something. He knew how much it hurt to bid farewell to someone he knew for years, let alone half of his life, and didn't have the heart to question his mother.

As Hiccup made his way through the crowded docks, he nearly bumped into the second person he was looking for: A lumberjack from a southern tribe.

"Afternoon, Chief Haddock! I've been looking for you." The lumberjack was a burly, powerful man with a great beard, but Hiccup could tell by his polite, gentle movements that he was a fair person.

"Bjor Ozursson! Welcome to Berk!" Hiccup said as they clasped hands. "You seem to be in a hurry; shall we get to business?"

"Why yes, thanks for understanding." They turned and walked, exchanging the usual trade gossip as they walked. Hiccup didn't pay much attention until Bjor started bringing up the topic of dragons.

"I've heard that you lads used to be with the dragons, eh?"

"Why, well, sort of." Hiccup said apprehensively. Neighboring tribes didn't look kindly upon New Berk's former relationship with the dragons. He was starting to regret opening his tribe to trade, for fear of an attack, but he knew that there was no point in hiding. The warlords of years past had already found his island with Grimmel's help.

"Don't worry," Bjor said. "I ain't had any trouble with dragon riders or dragon warlords, whichever one of those you lads are. We haven't had too much trouble with dragons."

"Say, what do you think of Timberjacks, Bjor?" Hiccup asked, hoping to read Bjor's intentions. If anything, a lumberjack would hate the beasts that occupied their forests—

"Aye, my father used to say they were nasty things before I took up his lumberjack trade," Bjor said. "But, for the past fifteen years or so, I really haven't had much trouble with 'em. They don't bother us unless we bother 'em, so we don't. I've even heard of a madman training one to cut wood for him, but I think that's nonsense."

"Hey, you'd be surprised." Hiccup said. "Dragons can be amazing creatures—"

"Don't get me wrong, lad, but I ain't wanna hear that. I ain't no enemy of dragons like most men, but I ain't no friend, either. As a trader, you learn to keep to your things and to let others keep to theirs. I'd say you keep quiet about that dragon-talk; your tribe is showin' up on plenty of maps."

"Okay, okay then," Hiccup said. "What makes you bring up the topic?"

"Oh, I just wanted to let you know that you could be makin' a fortune by selling dragon-derived things and the like."

Hiccup nearly exclaimed at Bjor, but he suppressed himself at the last moment.

"Huh. What things, exactly?"

"Scales and skin for armour, spines for spears, less glamorous bits for rituals, everything. I've even heard that someone out there figured out how to extract their fire."

Hiccup started to pale. "No way," he said. "There's no way you could force a dragon to spare a single scale for you, not unless you… killed it, but then you would run out of dragons."

"I'm not sure how they do it," Bjor said, "but I've heard they found a way. They don't need an alpha dragon to help them. Nay, they gave up on that years ago. But as I was sayin', you could be makin' a fortune from sellin' your leftover materials from the dragons."

Hiccup said nothing. He stared at the ground as they walked.

In the past, he would've felt obliged to take on any threat to dragons, but now, he didn't. Fighting for the cause that he had believed in had cost him his father, and nearly his best friend. It was too dangerous. As long as the Hidden World kept its namesake, most of the dragons would eventually be forgotten, and thus, safe forever. He reluctantly decided that it was best to not intervene.

They arrived at Bjor's barge, and he spoke up.

"What do you think? The finest hardwood from the South!" he said.

Hiccup dully inspected the wood, noting that it was satisfactory. It would be perfect for his latest project.

"Now, I must tell you something," Bjor said. "While that wood is strong for its weight, it's a lot harder to cut than your evergreens that grow around here. Best you use it for tools or weapons, things that are light but must be strong."

"Yup, I'm aware of that." Hiccup replied. "There's nothing Gronckle Iron saws can't handle."

"Aye, about that, any chance you got some for sale—"

"Don't ask."

"Alright. Now, the wood?"

"Right, here's your payment," Hiccup said as he checked his bag, only to remember that Berk wasn't a trading powerhouse in the slightest.

He didn't have enough money to spare.

Berk had spent most of their gold on rebuilding a fleet for fishing and basic patrols around the island. They had abandoned the original fleet on Old Berk when they fled from Grimmel on dragonback, many years ago, and blew more gold on imports until their young farms became self-sufficient.

"I suppose this wouldn't be enough, would it?" he asked.

"Sorry about that, no," Bjor said. "The hardwood's a pain to chop, and you'd have to journey far to get any for yourself."

Hiccup brought his hand up to his forehead, and dragged it down until it reached his beard, tugging out a few hairs.

"Fine, you can have these instead."

He produced a few iridescent, black-as-night scales, and gave them to Bjor. The man gawked, and his hand shook when he took them.

"Is this—is this from a Night Fury?"

"Don't you dare tell anyone else, not unless you don't want to trade here again."

"What? Why would I tell anyone? This right here, it's a trader's treasure. I'm going to pass it on to my son."

Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Can I unload the ship now?"

Bjor nodded, and Hiccup gathered some of his tribesmen to help unload the ship. Selling bits of his best friend's skin felt demeaning, especially after what he had just heard, but he was sure Toothless would approve if he could see what the hardwood was going towards.

Once all was said and done, Hiccup helped carry his wood from the docks to one of New Berk's great lifts. After he and his fellow villagers loaded the platform, he released it with the tug of a leaver, and watched as his water-powered feat gradually ascended up the vertigo-inducing cliff, towards the specks of liftmen far above.

A small flying object, likely a kite, wandered over one of Berk's many cliffs. Hiccup watched as it rose and pulled taut against a string held by an unseen Fishlegs.

When Hiccup told Fishlegs about his latest project, the Ingerman took a fierce interest in everything about it, and assisted in every way he could. Fishlegs feverishly studied the sky's clouds and weather, found locations where the winds would consistently catch his kites, and helped Hiccup design his early prototypes. Now, all of their hard work would pay off.

Hiccup used to have a nigh-unbreakable habit of flying with Toothless at least twice a day. While times had changed, Hiccup still made time for his own flights, although that word was a rather loose description of wingsuit flying—falling with finesse.

Tomorrow, he would change that.

A/N:

And so the first chapter begins! I've got the plot all planned out and a few scattered chapters written, but there's a long journey ahead, for Hiccup and myself. I hope not to add this story to the growing collection of unfinished stories on this site.

I'm not one for unnecessary details in a story. If anyone's wondering what details are important, know that almost all of them are indeed important.

I plan to keep things fairly realistic and grounded (figuratively) in this story. The more realistic a story is, the more likely it could've happened, thus making it more enjoyable, in my opinion. Hence wingsuits are hard to land, and I describe extra details like dragon-hunting ships coated in alum (which people used in the medieval ages! Cool stuff.).