A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back with the second chapter! I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely reactions so far, because they make me smile so much. I was a tad worried about whether people would still be interested in this story and its universe, but seeing so many people come back and hear that they're still in love with the original story and that they like the way this is starting… It just means the world to me. And it really motivates me to continue writing and work on it even more.

I hope that you are all doing well even though the world is going through some trying times, and that me publishing a new chapter can make you feel even just a little bit better.

Replies to Reviews on Chapter 1:

GeorgeQuartz: Yesss, the sequel's here! And I do hope it's gonna be good :D

Creeper AW MAM: Thank you so much! I'm really happy you liked the intro!

Night Fury or The Creature: Thank you! Glad you find it intriguing :)

DeathBerryHime:Ahhhh yes Berry it's actually happening! BeRrY. BERRY. I love your reactions and the emotions you're putting in your review, and I hope you prepared yourself well enough for what's still to come…
YES the boys are back :D I'm so happy you loved their conversation! I'm very very proud of him too and I'm happy you are 3 Nope, you will never get the end of that joke and indeed what Hiccup did was incredibly disgusting. But hey, they cleaned up!
Moving on to your comments about Eret, the tired single father is such a good image xD And I'm happy you already like Rana and Nilas even though you've only just met them. And yeah Ug's decision was just… Gods. He didn't want to die, but he was sure he'd die if he didn't try to fix things, and it cost him his life. Nilas indeed is a little trigger happy while he should just sit down and let people take care of him. And I love that you're already sharpening your spear for Valka :'D Indeed, it's a line Hiccup never crossed, actually having people die on his watch. Although you could argue Valka didn't do the killing herself.
Thank you so much Berry 3

Danaud64: Thank you for being excited and for your compliments on the intro! It makes me really happy :D

CajunBear73: Yep, two tales… Very different starts for both of them, both featuring a lot of death, that's hitting the nail on the head right here.

Dinochickrox: I KNOW RIGHT! I'M SO EXCITED!

elh11:I can't believe it's happening either and I missed them too! I'm glad you liked reuniting with Hiccup and Toothless and that you thought Eret's POV was interesting. Valka will definitely come back too. Just like all the interactions between Hiccup and the people you named; they're gonna happen (just not, every single person in Berk :'D). Thank you so much for your comment!

Curie-12: Awwww you setting an alarm because you were so excited is such a compliment, it's making me grin incredibly much! Thank you so much for your wonderful comment 3

Vivi-nvtg: Oh yes the stage is definitely set… With more to come

Guest: Really happy to hear you're excited! The wait is finally over :D

Emmaxinyiswiftiepotter: I'm so glad you liked it and that you're excited about the next chapter!

Alulain P: Yay indeed! :D

Permanent Guest: Yes it's meeeee :D Oh yeah the ships with Eret are definitely unconvential but they sort of came about when I started planning the story and I hope to convey them in the same way in the actual text. Eret's indeed a rare choice for a POV character but he's here to tell his own story that the other characters are unlikely to be able to tell, let me put it that way. He's still confident the way we got to know him in the second movie but he's also older, and was under so much stress this scene. I'm very happy you're back too!

MrGrae: Yes, at the end of the previous story Hiccup left Berk to enact his plan on his own, leaving Astrid behind because of all he'd done to her. Astrid tried to find him but didn't manage to navigate a ship through Helheim's Gate. You can refer back to chapter 43 of The Phantom of the Arena, most of it is explained there.

Heliona: It's such an honour that you logged in just to review this! Thank you so much for your compliments on your writing and I really hope you enjoyed The Phantom of the Arena. Sorry that you have indeed caught up, but it can also be fun to read a story as it goes along :D I would publish it all at once but I cannot write that quickly. I'm very much looking forward to diving into Eret's storyline too! I have a lot in store for him, although most of the screentime will still go to Hiccup and Berk. And yes, Hiccup and Valka meeting… Don't think that'd be a good idea right now either!

Josh Spicer: Definitely! I think he's a very good guy at heart.

Chapter 2: Daybreak

He didn't want to admit it, but at his age, getting up and out of bed in the morning was starting to become a little more difficult than it used to be. He could notice his joints were starting to protest against a life of fighting both Vikings and dragons, his bones slowly crumbling under the weight of his responsibilities. Even though the last five years had been a lot easier on him than all of them before. Physically, that was.

But all in all, Stoick the Vast was glad he'd lived to the ripe age of 56. Because it'd allowed him to experience things he'd never fathomed he would. He'd already grown older than both his father and grandfather, and had thanked the Gods for that many times before. But he couldn't quite say he was done with life yet. There was one thing he still needed to do. One person he needed to see.

And he wasn't leaving for Valhalla before that.

Still, he wouldn't mind a day in which he could simply sleep in, and could ignore the insistent knocking on his door. But that had never been his way.

So he lifted himself out of bed and grabbed his cloak, dutifully heading for the door. He navigated around the toys causing chaos in his house on instinct, the mess a result of another long night that in hindsight felt too short.

"Stoick!" a voice he now recognised as Gobber's urgently repeated.

"Coming!" he shouted, barely suppressing a yawn.

He opened his front door to find his friend standing on the other side, panting, his eyes blown wide, his hand prosthetic oddly absent. Thoroughly shaken. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Gobber like that, and it instantly woke him up, alert because something had to have gone wrong.

But before he could ask what had happened, Gobber pointed his stump towards the ocean. Towards the cliffs. At something large, at a shape Stoick couldn't quite identify, making him squint his eyes against the morning sun.

A gigantic dragon head, balancing on the edge of his island.

It was hideous. Enormous, bigger than anything he'd ever seen, allowing him to make out enough details even from this distance. He doubted it'd fit through the doors of the Great Hall. He reckoned it didn't. But he could clearly see its large, yellow teeth, contrasting with the blue-green shade of its skin. He also spotted two cavities, holes where the dragon's eyes should have been. He'd seen those eyes before. They had been delivered to Berk, one after the other, spread out over the course of three years. Only to be followed by two years of complete, agonising silence.

And now there was this. And while it was absolutely gruesome, gory, and utterly disgusting to look at, his eyes watered as if it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Because it was. There was only one person who could have brought it here. Only one person who could have killed the dragon who he now knew had been responsible for the raids that had tormented his people for over three hundred years.

Hiccup.

Hiccup had promised he'd kill the dragon he and Astrid called the Red Death. And he'd done it. And although there was no sign of Hiccup himself, he had provided Berk with very clear, obvious, undeniable proof of his heroism.

It meant the war was really over. It had felt that way for the past five years, but now it was real. They finally had peace.

It meant Hiccup was alive.

Stoick started to laugh, ecstatic, his knees weak. Gobber looked at him strangely, but he didn't care. He simply hugged his friend, howling as tears escaped from the corners of his eyes.

Hiccup was alive. He'd succeeded. He'd let Berk know that. Which had to mean that even though he was currently nowhere to be found, he was coming back. And that Stoick would finally, after almost eleven years, get the chance to talk to his son again.

"I can't believe it," was all he managed.

Gobber simply nodded against his shoulder, hugging him back. "Me neither."

They laughed and cried together, sharing their joy, their elatedness as they walked over to the dragon's decapitated skull to get a better look at it. To be amazed by the acts of bravery of the boy they had practically raised together.

Hiccup's heroics wouldn't be celebrated; Berk wasn't quite ready for that. But the least they could do was ensure that just for today, not a single Berkian dared to bring up the actions Hiccup's Phantom had committed against them.

But with the extraordinary delight also came the knowledge that Hiccup could have hardly chosen a worse day to return.

Then again, when it came to his son, Stoick should have never expected anything else.

There was something oddly eerie about what would otherwise be a perfectly peaceful sight. The sea, calmly moving through its motions, its waves crashing onto the rocks or gently crawling onto the stony beach. Not a hint in its sound, in its usual rustling, that it had any idea of what exactly had taken place here last night. And that Eret had lost everything he'd ever had.

Except for his life.

They'd made it out. Somehow. After an eternity in the darkness in which the Shadow hadn't come for them, the heat had slowly dissipated, the night's many terrifying noises finally dying out.

Dawn had come.

And when he'd finally gathered the last snippets of his courage and had made his way back up to the surface, all he'd found were the remnants of what had once been his fort. Passed down among his people for generations, to new Erets, Sons of Erets.

All that was left of his family's history now was a mangled abomination of wood, encased by a strange blue-green glistening substance, ominously looming over them. He'd briefly wondered if it was even ice to begin with, but pressing his hand against the cold surface had quickly confirmed his suspicions. He didn't know where it had come from, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Someone had freed the dragons he'd worked so hard to trap. And for all he knew, he'd be back.

Any safety he felt now, sitting on the beach with his back towards what could once be called a fort, water trickling down from it as it started to melt in the summer sun, was only temporary.

"We need a plan," he murmured to Teeny, who was sitting next to him. He let his eyes survey the beach, resting on each and every one of the shallow mounds under which they'd buried the rest of their family. Those whose bodies they'd been able to find, that was.

Ug hadn't been among them. Others had hardly received a proper send-off, because they could only guess who the body had belonged to, as they'd been wounded beyond recognition. Burned alive or charred after death. He could only hope it'd been the latter, and that they hadn't suffered too much.

His gaze landed on the waterfront, where Nilas was aimlessly skipping stones into the sea, the waves tickling his ankles every now and then. He was still covered in soot, most of his sleek, brown hair escaped from his hastily tied together ponytail, his clothes torn and charred. Eret had tried to convince him to take some time to clean himself up, but to no avail. His normally talkative nephew hadn't said anything since that morning. He simply stared blankly ahead, still processing the horrors he'd seen the night before. The only signs of life he gave were the violent coughs that occasionally wrecked his body.

Eret wasn't sure whether a thirteen-year-old boy, who'd grown up here, who'd never known another life than that of a dragon trapper, could actually deal with what he'd seen. But he also didn't have a clue how to help him.

Today, he felt like he didn't know anything at all.

Thankfully, Rana seemed to have missed most of it, still blindly trusting her uncle's word. He'd tried to fix her up as well as he could, explaining to her that they couldn't simply go back to bed, but he still spotted some burnt pieces in both of her black braids. He'd have to get rid of those at one point or another.

And figure out a way to tell her that she wouldn't see most of the men who'd helped raise her ever again. That the shape of the fort wasn't something that could be brushed off the way he had done that morning when she'd seen it. That instead, it meant they no longer had a home.

Rana seemed to be more concerned about her brother than anyone else, pulling on his sleeve and asking him to play. Nilas didn't give her any response. He ignored her, but she stayed persistent, pushing until he finally crumbled and sat down, hugging his sister with more strength than Eret had seen from him all day.

"We can't stay here," Eret continued, his heart slowly breaking into pieces.

"But what about Drago?" Teeny asked, his voice soft.

"We don't have any dragons to deliver. Those of us who are still alive are at least a day or two of sailing away. And with just you, me, and the kids, there's no way we'll capture enough dragons before next week."

"Can't we try?"

"I'd love to. I don't give up easily, you know that, but…" He shook his head, burying his hand in his hair, catching some pieces of dust. "I have to be realistic." He nodded towards Nilas and Rana. "For them."

"Maybe Drago will understand. It's not our fault we were attacked, maybe he'll appreciate it if we tell him who -"

"You were there, right?" he snapped, gesturing to his chest. "Last time we didn't have enough, after we'd been ambushed by a Scauldron on the way to Drago, when…"

When Nilas' father was burnt alive by Drago in front of Eret's eyes, and he was given his brand as a permanent reminder of what happened to 'slackers'.

He could feel it sting, that forever damaged spot over his heart, when Teeny slowly nodded. They all remembered. How Eret's only sister Aila had cried when they'd arrived back at the fort without her husband, breaking down with the realisation that he would never meet his unborn child. And that their son would grow up without his father.

She had fallen ill shortly after Rana's birth. And no longer had the strength to recover.

"I can't even imagine what Drago will do if we turn up with nothing at all," Eret added, swallowing away the hurt. "And I don't have to. He'll kill us, at the very least. Who knows where Nilas and Rana will end up then. And even if we survive, how could we rebuild, how do we know that whoever attacked us won't come back to finish the job?"

He shivered, the images from the previous night crawling back into his head, the fire, the screams. The horned, tall Dragon Thief, the Shadow who had taken everything from them, focusing his gaze on him through the smoke. The panic he still felt now at the mere thought of having to live through that again. Having to bury another set of bodies, of not just his men, but his children too. The idea of Nilas and Rana, lying there, never again throwing a tantrum or shooting him a smile.

It was unbearable, just his imagination already clawing open his chest and tearing out his heart.

And there was only one way to prevent that nightmare from coming true.

"We have to flee," he concluded, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart as he turned his gaze towards the sea.

Teeny swallowed, undoubtedly going through the same scenarios Eret had just seen play out in his head. But after a moment of silence, he proposed: "We could go back to the mainland. My brothers still live back in the village, and those who went home already are there as well. We have to tell them what happened."

"I wish I could, but…" Eret shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because that's where Drago's going. It's his goal. He wants to conquer the mainland kingdoms with his dragon army… So no matter where we go, he'll find us."

"I highly doubt he even knows our faces. He's employed so many trappers, after all," Teeny argued. "So we could hide in plain sight."

"Until someone finds my brand and rats me out," he countered. "Drago gave me a life sentence."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"To go the other way." He pointed to the north west. "To the Barbaric Archipelago."

"Really?" Teeny pulled up an eyebrow. "Our entire livelihood was just destroyed by dragons, and you want to go to the one place that's infested with them?"

"Yes."

"It's called the Barbaric Archipelago for a reason."

"And that's why Drago has no interest in it," Eret pointed out. "He won't conquer it, he thinks it's too insignificant for him. It would've been a trial run for him, at best, and he doesn't feel like he needs it. He killed the most powerful Chiefs there twenty years ago, so none of the current ones pose a threat to him. And unlike most people, I know how to handle a dragon if I have to, so I reckon there's got to be a place where they'll let us stay."

"I don't know, Eret…"

"I don't have all the answers either," he admitted. "But what I have heard about the Archipelago is that it's a chaotic mess. Vikings, our people and many others, split into islands and tribes that never see eye to eye on anything. The only thing that unites them is their hate for dragons, which I can thoroughly agree with. But what I do know for sure, is that my brand puts me at risk wherever Drago goes. In the Archipelago, I might have a shot." He grabbed a handful of stones by his feet and started chucking them away, one by one. "And that's all I can really hope for right now."

Teeny looked at him, his expression troubled. "I need to see my brothers again. I can't leave them wondering. Nor any of the others."

"And I have to make sure Nilas and Rana have a future. One in which they won't have to be on the run for the rest of their lives."

They looked at each other for a long while, at the person they had worked with for the past fifteen years. Who they had trusted, and had always been able to rely on.

And they both knew what had to be done.

"There are two ships left," Eret recalled from their survey that morning. The others had been reduced to splinters, or ashes.

"You and the kids should take the larger one," Teeny nodded. "I'll take the small boat. It should take a few days at most for me to reach the mainland. I'll find the others and tell them not to come back here."

"And that I'm dead," Eret added.

Teeny's eyes widened. "Eret -"

"It's for the better," he insisted. "If anyone does try to track me down, you'll be the only one who knows. And the others won't be in danger because of my decision to abandon them."

Teeny shook his head. "You're not abandoning us, Eret. Your father, your brother-in-law, and you took good care of us all these years."

"But -"

"You've earned the right to start looking after yourselves. And to stop being afraid."

Eret frowned. "I'm not afraid of Drago. Just watchful."

"Sure," Teeny nodded, clearly indulging him. "None of us are."

Eret decided not to argue back. He simply hugged his friend, already fully dreading their farewell.

But he'd been thinking of seeking refuge in the Barbaric Archipelago from the moment Nilas and Rana had come into his care. To search for a better life, one without the presence of Drago Bludvist looming over them. And the deaths of his crew, his friends, his family, had turned out to be the final push he'd needed.

He wasn't going to let their deaths be in vain by letting Drago, nor last night's Shadow, destroy their future too.

Perhaps Hiccup should have handled things like a normal person. Maybe, just maybe, he should have turned things down a notch. But then again, 'normal' had never been a word that properly described him.

And he certainly wasn't going to let anyone on Berk doubt whether he was speaking the truth about what he'd done.

So, it had seemed only logical to drop a gigantic dragon head on one of its cliffs. And to wait for morning so he could sit back and watch everyone's reactions.

Of course, there had been more sensible reasons for his extravagance. He had returned in the middle of the night, and figured barging into anyone's home wouldn't make a good impression. Nor would arriving during the day with a flock of dragons. He didn't want to be seen as an invader after all. Not again.

He figured this should give people enough of a hint of the now undeniable fact that he'd completed his self-assigned hero's quest. That he'd fought for his redemption, and that he was ready to take the next step. It would give the people of Berk the time to prepare to talk to him. If they wanted to.

Especially Astrid.

But he definitely smirked when he watched the first Viking warrior exit her home in the morning, only to jump at least a feet or two backwards at the sight of the Red Death's skull. And she wasn't the only one.

Slowly, more and more Berkians flocked to the surprise he'd given them. Once the implications settled in, once they realised that it had to have been him, their lost Chief's son, their Phantom, they looked behind them, towards Berk's mountains. They couldn't see him, nor Toothless, nor Stormfly at his side, wearing Astrid's saddle again, but he didn't doubt that they knew he was around. Like he always had been.

His old vantage point, a cave exit high above the Great Hall, had seemingly turned into public property without his approval, even featuring a large, thick log for people to sit on, so he'd had to find a new spot. But he was still watching them as closely as the Phantom used to. He studied the villagers' every movement, all their interactions. Vikings had never been particularly subtle after all, so there was loads of information to obtain, even from a distance.

It had been absolutely invaluable when he'd terrorised them as the Phantom. He'd been able to read the fear in the way they moved, how they went about their days, how they talked to each other. The air had always been heavy with it, so clear, so obvious that Toothless could basically smell it. And he'd felt it too, tasted it, thick on his tongue.

Oddly sweet. So sweet. Because he'd been the one to cause it, because they'd feared him, because he'd finally made it clear that he couldn't be messed with, that he could, that he would -

"Whoah," he uttered, blinking as a shiver wrecked his body. "Might not want to go there, now do I?"

Toothless bent his neck over backwards, trying to look up at his rider, but Hiccup just shook his head at his best friend. "I got this. Don't worry." He sat up straighter, shuffling in his saddle as he rubbed Toothless' chin. "I'm better than getting caught in old habits on my first day back, right bud?"

Toothless warbled supportively, but didn't avert his gaze until Hiccup conjured up an actual smile. He didn't need to lift his visor to show it; they simply read each other's eyes.

More Berkians finally awakened, and within the crowd, he now also spotted his father, supported by Gobber as they examined the Red Death's gruesome appearance. Hiccup wondered what they would think as soon as they saw past the bizarre appearance and realised what it meant, however long that might take them. Were they afraid, of him, of what he would be like when he came back? Of what his intentions were? Even though the truth was that quite frankly, he didn't really have any. There was only one person he wanted, needed to see. He was used to having a plan up his sleeve, but now, he would simply go wherever she wished him to, and adjust accordingly. He hadn't really thought beyond that yet.

But she was probably still asleep.

Did his father still love him? Had he spoken the truth on the day Hiccup had decided to leave Astrid behind to fight the Red Death, alone? He'd forced himself to believe his dad had. At least in the last moment he'd said it. But there was always the possibility that he had changed his mind over the past five years. Once he'd gotten over the shock of his son being alive. Once he'd seen that Hiccup had never been quite the boy his father had thought he was. That he had turned into an even bigger disappointment than he'd been before.

In honour of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Berk's Bravest Dragon Killer

He didn't know if the remembrance stone and its harrowing inscription were still in the cove. He hadn't taken the time to check. But he supposed there was a certain irony in how he'd fought for years against those words, how he'd always wanted to be anything but what Berk had chosen to remember him as. And now he had become exactly what it said. Sure, he'd killed the worst of all, an evil, corrupted Alpha, but he'd still killed a dragon. While he was the man who without question loved them the most.

In hindsight, it seemed a twisted kind of prophecy. A wish made by his father for Hiccup to become more than who he had been for the fifteen years they'd known each other. Only for it to come true in this wicked yet oddly fitting way.

Still, he struggled to wrap his mind around the notion that perhaps, for the first time in his life, looking at the Chief of Berk's silhouette as he traced the Red Death's skin, his father might actually feel proud of him. The idea that he could entertain the notion that his father might still love him after all. That father-son relationships could work the way he'd been told they did. That loving your children was more like a natural force than a choice, something you simply did because that's how the world worked. And Stoick the Vast had always strongly adhered to tradition.

"But it'd be foolish to expect anything beyond that," he muttered. "It's not what I came back for. Let alone what I could hope for."

He didn't need his father's respect. Not through pride, and especially not through fear. He was past that.

"It's not as if I really deserve it, after all."

He only wanted Astrid's approval.

But when the end of morning came, she still hadn't left her home.

He did see others. Silhouettes, shapes, habits he recognised. Tuffnut, yelling so loudly Hiccup could hear it from up where he was. Snotlout, who kept his distance and seemed to urge a clearly very pregnant Ruffnut to do the same.

She didn't listen.

"Should have expected that, Snotlout," he snorted. "Thorstons don't back down, not even when they're the ones expecting. Everybody knows that." He chuckled at his own wordplay, almost able to hear Toothless roll his eyes. "Good for them though, I suppose," he managed.

Today wasn't the day to be envious of someone having something he didn't think he ever would. He wasn't the kind of person one peacefully raised a family with. He'd once dared to dream about it, had even told Astrid about his fantasies when he'd asked her to marry him. But he'd killed that idea himself, had wrapped his scarred fingers around its precious neck. And he hadn't allowed himself to hope since.

Not for something so intangibly far away.

He spotted Fishlegs among the crowd, scribbling away eagerly, likely taking in all he could see before Spitelout - it was admirable just how irritating he could be, even from this far away - and his goons finally managed to roll the Red Death's skull into the sea, after a series of incredibly entertaining failed attempts.

Which meant it had disappeared before Astrid had seen it.

He saw her parents, though, albeit only briefly. They seemingly casually minded their own business the way Hoffersons did - not in a way that told him their daughter had died - and only came out after the sun had already started to set on Berk. A Berk that was doing better than the last time he'd seen it. A Berk on which some houses were actually still the same as they had been five years earlier.

It had become an island on which some Vikings had dared to expand their properties to include farms, with actual crops growing on them. Where new houses had been built on the outskirts, significantly larger than the ones they'd lived in before, rivalling if not trumping the Chief's own. With the village's watchtowers, which hadn't stood since he'd destroyed the last one over six years ago, proudly guarding them.

It didn't take the eye of a Chief, or a former Chief's son, to see, just at a glance, that Berk was prospering. And he knew it was a result of him stopping the wars. But he couldn't dwell on it, let alone feel satisfaction because of it. He knew what a slippery slope that was. And it was more of a collateral advantage than something he had intended to do. Although he supposed this Berk did look like a place Astrid could be safe in. Which was what he'd most desperately wanted for her.

But then why hadn't he seen her yet?

Was she hiding from him intentionally? She had to have heard about the Red Death's head, it would be impossible for anyone not to, so that couldn't be it. Had she fallen ill, and was she unable to get out of bed? Was she waiting for him, somewhere else, somewhere he hadn't thought of, because he didn't know her as well as he thought he did, not anymore, not after all this time?

Had she moved in with someone else, was she living with a husband who had told her what he'd seen, and had they, together, decided not to lead her old lover on? Had she left Berk altogether, started travelling to complete her dream without him by her side? Did she hate him so badly that she had left the Archipelago just to lower the odds of ever seeing him again?

Had she died?

No, it had to be anything but that.

"He promised," he told himself, his chest heaving. "Dad promised he'd keep her safe. They wouldn't have executed her for treason, they wouldn't have sent her away, he promised, he promised."

When night finally fell, along with the comforting blanket of darkness, enveloping him, empowering him as he slowly disappeared, blended in with it, he couldn't take it anymore. He led Toothless down to the village, quiet as they'd always been, their technique perfected through years of stalking and sneaking. And soon enough, they reached the roof of the Hoffersons' house.

His feet landed softly on the timber, and for a moment, he considered knocking on it. Like he'd used to, every night he'd lured Astrid to the arena to simply get a chance to talk to her. It would be nostalgic, easy. But his nerves stopped him, his stomach twisting as his legs weakened.

Because what if she didn't come?

Perhaps nostalgia wasn't what he had to go for. As wonderful as it had been, he was sure there were things in their past that she wanted to hide, that she was desperate to get away from. He knew he did.

Perhaps he should simply take stock first. Observe, then act. That was something he could do.

Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself, upside down, just far enough to peak into Astrid's bedroom window.

He kept his eyes closed for just a moment, steeling himself for what he would see when he opened them.

And then he did.

Only to lay eyes on an empty room.

He almost lost his grip, just an inch short of tumbling onto the ground and likely breaking his neck, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

There was nothing. A few chests and drawers, yes, but no bed, nothing that belonged to her, no, no -

No Astrid.

Desperately trying to make sense of the situation, he hauled himself back up onto the roof, panting, his chest heaving, because he didn't understand. Her parents were inside, he knew that, he'd seen both of them leave and come back, separate from each other. The Hoffersons hadn't moved. But then where was Astrid, why had they cleaned out her room, where was she, why hadn't he seen her, where had she gone?

Gods!

Stormfly hadn't smelled her either, he'd have known it if she had, but then again, it had been almost five years, so he hadn't wanted to read too much into that. But he should have. He should have the Nadder sniff out the entire island, hoping she'd recognise Astrid's smell, and then fly her through the entire Archipelago if they didn't find Astrid on Berk, because she couldn't be dead, right?

That couldn't be a sensible explanation for her being gone, that wasn't how this was supposed to go, that wasn't what he'd fought for. He'd never thought himself superstitious, but he'd somehow always believed he'd know if she died, one way or another. She was alive, she had to be, his father -

His father had promised him nothing would happen to her.

Breathing in through his nose and clenching his jaw, he turned his head uphill. Towards the home of Berk's Chief, where a faint light still crept out of the windows. Yes, he could search the entire Archipelago. But he could also simply ask the one man who undoubtedly knew where she'd gone.

And who he knew he could get any kind of information out of, if he simply tried hard enough.

A/N: You can find me on Tumblr at aleteia-ff! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come!

If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server, in the channel aleteias-fics! The link is discordapp dot com slash invite slash xVuZfK2

The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time!