Surprise! I've been putting the finishing touches on the story, and since it's all but finished, I figured why not send in an early update? Everyone likes those. And I, it turns out, really like this chapter, specifically the latter half.

The story's final arc begins here, and there's a ton of action to come in the next few chapters alone. The one year anniversary of Bound is coming up, and depending on how some other things go, I may release the following 3 chapters a few days apart and have us all the way through Chapter 24 (the penultimate chapter) by the 13th, which is the anniversary date of Bound's completion. We'll see though. Thanks so, so much to everyone who read and reviewed Bound and has followed me along through Ghosts to this point, I hope I can come to a conclusion that everyone loves.

21. Into the Inferno

Hiccup stood on the bow of the lead ship, a host of dragons and Vikings cluttering the deck. Astrid stood by his side as she often did, surveilling the waves with narrowed eyes as the moon watched over them from above. Camicazi balanced precariously on the rim of the deck near them, leaning against the dragon-shaped figurehead and peering through a spyglass in order to scope out any potential trouble. Several dragons either populated the decks alongside their Viking friends or flew gingerly nearby, low to the surface of the sea and out of sight. High up and behind the ships, Valka was leading the remaining bulk of their dragon force, keeping them all in one place where they'd be comfortable. It was eerily quiet on the water, the tension an intense, palpable thing.

They'd left Bog as soon as humanly possible on account of the distance. The other Chiefs had departed as soon as the meeting was over to return to their islands with speed. Terror Mail had been sent beforehand to call for the other tribes to mobilize their forces and rendezvous at the Steppingstones at midnight, except for the Meatheads, who would be sailing in from the north and meet up with the advance team infiltrating the island from the forests. Thuggory had stayed behind, on account of his responsibility to board some of Drago's ships and free captured dragons.

"It's nearly midnight," Astrid said, her gaze turned towards the moon. It was just a few nights from being full now, and the sky was devoid of clouds, offering a strong source of light to sail by.

"Let's hope someone's already there," Hiccup answered.

"It would be our luck to be the only ones to show up on time, wouldn't it?" Cami chimed in from where she was standing. She played with her spyglass and the gold rings on her fingers that she'd probably stolen at some point in the past. The sea breeze had her wild blonde hair blowing behind her head, making her look almost beautiful in a troublesome kind of way.

A thunderclap of air split the night in two as a large dragon slithered into place beside the ship, four wings folded close to its body. Valka pulled her helmet up over her head, revealing her face underneath.

Hiccup waded over to the edge of the deck, setting his hands on the rim and leaning forward. "How are the dragons doing?"

"Fine, if a bit antsy," Valka reported. "I noticed a few ships on the horizon from up there. I can't quite make them out."

"Maybe it's the Outcasts or Berserkers. They had the shortest flights home," Astrid pointed out.

"They didn't look like your typical Viking longboats to me, I'm afraid," Valka added, lips turned in a slight frown. They'd received word about smaller ships of Drago's stalking the waters of the archipelago, steering clear of inhabited islands but encroaching all the same. Hiccup suspected that Drago wanted to find him before he moved onto other lands. Perhaps he'd made an impression on the warlord, to warrant such tenacious attention.

"I'll keep an eye out. We're getting close," Camicazi offered, wrapping an arm around the longship's figurehead to keep herself steady as a harsh wind picked up.

"If it is Drago, we'll handle it. Just focus on keeping the dragons under control," Hiccup said. He hoped Drago or his men were nowhere near them, of course. Valka nodded and closed her helmet back over her head, and with a gentle tug she guided Cloudjumper back into the air and toward the horde of dragons tailing the fleet.

"Maybe Dagur has some special ships in the armada," Hiccup suggested. One look at the two ladies nearby earned him a pair of flat, unconvinced expressions. "Unlikely, I know. Let's just not blow our cover if it is Drago. It can't be that many ships."

They sailed further along until the islands and the bodies of the ships became visible. Valka's vantage point from the air had been significant, and she hadn't been lying, either. Camicazi opened her spyglass and looked through it, cranking the small wheel around the lens to improve the focus as the ships drew closer. She recognized the longships with the Berserker crests painted on their sails, but the larger vessels they surrounded were definitely not from Berserk. She noticed a metal trap on one of them and knew what she was looking at.

"Alright, kids, I've got good news and bad news," she called out, holding her spyglass up close to her eye, "The good news is there's a couple of Berserker ships up ahead. The bad news is, there's three of Drago's ships up there with 'em, and I'm not seeing any sort of battle going on." Cami lowered her spyglass and flipped it to Hiccup, who caught it in one hand. "See for yourself."

Hiccup peered through the spyglass, seeing the figures of the ships that Cami had pointed out. At least a dozen longships were cluttered in and around the Steppingstone islands, their Skrill-emblazoned sails proudly unfurled. But sitting much too close to them, larger and bulkier than the long Vikings vessels, were three ships bearing some of the crests of Drago's army, each of them powered by two great sails mounted on two separate masts.

"Oh, this could be bad," Hiccup muttered as he lowered the spyglass. "Get the others. Tell them to bring their dragons," Hiccup said to Astrid. She nodded and took off across the deck, flaxen hair billowing in the wind behind her, and Hiccup passed the spyglass back to Cami.

"What're you going to do?" Cami asked, closing the tool completely and placing it on a hook along her belt.

Hiccup shrugged. "Probably something stupid."

Cami snickered and jumped down from the figurehead back onto the deck, tossing her wild hair back as her boots clattered onto the wood. "Count me in, then."

Astrid was already powering back toward them with Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins in tow, their dragons likewise at their heels. Fishlegs, for one, looked noticeably panicked.

"Astrid said the Berserkers ran into Drago? Do you think it's Dagur and Heather?" Fishlegs asked, his large hands tightly clasped together. He had a sword sheathed at his side that looked out-of-place. Meatlug whined at the idea, taking on her rider's worry.

Snotlout scoffed, "Calm down, Fishface," the black-haired Viking blustered. He leaned into Ruffnut, resting his arm on her shoulder and flashing a flirty smile. "See that? I would never be that scared if I didn't know where you were. A girl like you can take care of herself."

Ruffnut matched Snotlout's smile with a patronizing, falsely supportive grin. "For once, Snotlout, you're so right." Snotlout half-shrugged, as if to humbly brush off the praise or say something along the lines of well, of course. But without warning, Ruffnut shoved Snotlout off of her, sticking her foot out to trip him up as she pushed. The move worked to perfection and Snotlout plummeted face-first into the deck, a short yelp cut off by the hard smack of his body against wood.

Tuffnut snickered relentlessly at that, nudging his sister approvingly before squatting down to belittle his unfortunate friend. "Ha—you got served," the male Thorston chirped, earning a loathsome glare from Snotlout.

"Stay focused, please," Hiccup grimaced, eager to tackle the more serious matter. He looked to Fishlegs and frowned, motioning for Toothless to come as he answered the larger Viking's question. "There's only one way to find out, Fish. Everyone ready?"

The twins clambered up onto Barf and Belch, and Snotlout returned to his feet so he could run over and mount Hookfang. As Fishlegs climbed atop Meatlug's back, Camicazi whistled to signal Thatch, smiling as the Changewing hustled over from another longboat to come to her aid. Astrid mounted Stormfly and Hiccup swung into Toothless' saddle, and as one, the riders launched into the air, rocking the longboat a little from the sudden takeoff.

"Before I blindly go into whatever this is, do we have an actual plan?" Astrid asked over the wind.

"Find out what's going on if we can, and attack if necessary," Hiccup answered sharply, fighting back a rush of anger as he focused on the intruding ships from Drago's army. They closed in on the islands much faster than the fleet behind them could've managed, and as soon as they began to fly overhead, Hiccup and Astrid were scanning the deck of the largest ship. There were a handful of soldiers, and from the looks of it, a solid number of prisoners tied up near the masts.

"Looks like it's just a skeleton crew," Hiccup observed, "Alright, gang, let's do what we do. Hold your fire until we're attacked first. If they don't surrender, we'll send these ships sinking to the bottom of the sea."

"You got it, boss!" Tuffnut hooted, and as a unit the cluster of dragons corkscrewed and dove at the ships below. The signature scream of wind that signaled a descending Night Fury rippled through the night from the middle of the formation, and as they got close, Hiccup heard the scattered shouts of the crewmen on board.

The largest, heaviest dragons landed first—Hookfang, Meatlug, and Thatch slammed into the deck and their riders leaped from their saddles, brandishing their weapons at the armored soldiers. Stormfly and the twins landed next, and Toothless landed fearlessly in the center of it all. Hiccup launched off the Night Fury's back and ignited Inferno, holding the blazing blade in two hands as he stared down one of Drago's men armored from head to toe. The soldier stiffened and held his hands out, ejaculating a string of cries that Hiccup understood perfectly.

He found himself momentarily paused by the fact that the soldier spoke Norse, and his eyes wandered to the group of prisoners tied up and seated together beneath one of the ship's masts. At least a dozen men were bound, and not one of them possessed the typical pale skin or common blonde hair seen in so many inhabitants of the archipelago—a statistical improbability.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes at the armored soldier standing before him, who had still not moved for his weapon. That was strange. Hiccup glanced at the prisoners again, stunned that he couldn't recognize any of them. Usually there were some signs that tipped off what tribe they belonged to, or something, but…

"Brother!" an unmistakable voice called out, an ululation of glee. Hiccup whirled around and found himself looking up the nearby steps to where the ship's steering wheel was mounted, where Dagur was standing in all his glory, sporting the black armor of Drago Bludvist. The Berserker Chief cackled. "You can put down the weapons, everyone—unless I missed the part where our tribes were at war again, in which case, by all means, keep them drawn!"

"Dagur?" Hiccup blurted out. Everyone else seemed equally confused, exchanging looks between the crewmen and Dagur's new set of armor. "What's going on?" Hiccup added, and as he did, many of the soldiers acting as the crew started to remove their helmets, revealing themselves to be other Berserkers.

"Isn't it obvious, brother? This beauty of a ship now belongs to us!" Dagur boasted, grinning from ear to ear. "We caught these fellows on our way here sailing a bit too close to Berserker waters, so naturally, I attacked. Just as I thought, these men are pathetic at fighting. After we took the ships, I got to thinking, what if we could use these babies to our advantage?"

"Actually, that was my idea," a second voice corrected him. A second, nimbler figure shuffled into view from the back of the ship, yanking off her helmet to let her black hair flow free. Heather tucked the helmet under her arm and grinned down at her friends, and Dagur groaned in defeat.

"Alright, fine, it was my genius sister who came up with this idea, I admit it," Dagur whined, earning a smirk from Heather.

Fishlegs was not in the least concerned with Dagur's rambling, and upon seeing Heather, he blurted out, "Heather? Thank the gods, I—we were worried!"

Heather smiled sheepishly, offering a meek wave at the large boy. "Hi, Fishlegs. And hi, everyone else. Sorry for the scare."

Hiccup lowered his sword and the blade slid back into the hilt, extinguishing its flames in doing so. "No apologies needed," he assured her, "I'm just glad everyone's alright. Where's the rest of the armada?"

"On its way," Heather replied, "After we took these ships, we thought we'd get here early and make sure no one spoiled the party. Seems like it was the right call."

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah, looks like it. So, what's this idea about using these ships to our advantage I'm hearing about?"

"I'm glad you asked, brother!" Dagur hooted, and he lifted himself over the railing to drop a good ten feet from the upper deck. Once his feet hit the wood, Dagur bounded over to Hiccup and curled his arm around his neck, leading Hiccup toward one of the prisoner groups assembled by the mast. Glaring at them was a stocky man with tanned skin, his arms tied tight to his sides and his legs bound up so that he couldn't move.

"Allow me to introduce you to the captain of this ship," Dagur sniggered, grinning wildly the whole time, "Captain, would you be so kind as to tell my brother what you told me?" Dagur's tone posited that his request was really a demand. The captain glared at Dagur defiantly, but their staring match was short-lived, and the foreigner dropped his head before looking up again and meeting Hiccup's eyes.

"Orders… search… dragons," the captain mumbled in severely broken Norse. He shifted against his bonds, to no avail. "Kill Vikings…" the man added.

Hiccup leaned forward, placing his hands on his hips. "Are there others out here?" he asked. The captain shook his head.

"Only… ones."

"I don't think we can trust him," Dagur said instantly, crossing his arms and staring at the captain.

"I don't think so, either, but we have to focus on the plan. Drago is expecting us to come back—which means he'll want to keep as much of his army on Berk as he can. If there are more out here after all, they'll have sailed in different directions and we shouldn't have to worry about them," Hiccup said, "Now, what's this idea?"

Dagur smiled like a child on Snoggletog again, and he lifted a hand to rest on Hiccup's shoulder. "These ships left Berk—they have to come back eventually, right? Heather and I propose that we stuff our very gracious prisoners here below decks so that they can't make a peep and fill the rest of the space with our dragons so that they can't be seen. Then, we sail back to Berk and fit right in with Drago's army, disguising ourselves in the armor we took from his actual men…"

"And then attack from within," Hiccup realized, "The dragons open fire and we sink as many ships as we can. It's the perfect trick!"

Dagur beamed. "Exactly! You're too smart for your own good, you know that, brother?" the wild Viking whooped.

"I've certainly heard so before," Hiccup offered, suddenly wincing as Dagur clapped him on the back and nearly knocked him to the deck. The crazed Chief turned to the rest of the ship and raised his hands, summoning a truly berserk yell from the depths of his lungs.

"Berserkers!" Dagur hollered, garnering the eyes and ears of all of his people that he'd brought aboard. "Escort our new friends into the belly of this magnificent ship and gag them!"

Immediately, the Berserkers on board went to work, yanking prisoners to their feet by the ropes and dragging them along. Snotlout and Tuffnut eagerly jumped in to help. As they were being towed towards a wooden staircase leading below the deck, Drago's men snarled obscenities at their Viking captors, some of them earning a few good licks to the head as a reward.

Astrid strode over, resting her hands on her hips purposefully as the prisoners were hauled out of sight. "So, change of plans?" she asked, though she really knew the answer.

"Slightly," Hiccup replied. He gestured to the large ship they were standing on, and then to the other two nearby. "These are Plan B."

"Plan B" spread like wildfire.

The captured ships became a flurry of movement over the next hour. The remainder of the Berserker Armada quickly arrived, and Astrid sent out riders in different directions to receive the other allied tribes and inform them of the situation. It was decided that the team that was originally tasked to infiltrate the port from the forests would instead all ride on the stolen ships into the heart of Drago's fleet—the approach would be infinitely stealthier, and they wouldn't need to do their job without necessarily being seen, the stolen armor allowing them to blend in.

Just after midnight, the entire Viking armada was assembled, with the addition of a couple of Drago's ships. The port team; made up of Thuggory, Eret, Camicazi, and several other volunteers manned the stolen ships, completely covered in armor lifted from Drago's men, who had all been safely cooped up below decks alongside a horde of hostile dragons. Hiccup was sure that they were quaking with fear behind their gags and blindfolds, and part of him took a dark joy in that. To him, those men deserved worse than being surrounded by dragons that may or may not be hungry.

Hiccup strolled down the deck with Toothless at his side, ready to glide off of the large ship and back to one of his own boats. At the prow of the ship, Eret was standing with his helmet off, silently staring in the rough direction of Berk. His black hair was tucked into the collar of the armor so that he could easily wear and remove the stolen helmet. Hiccup marched up beside the ex-trapper, settling silently a few feet from him and just watching like Eret was, as if they were looking out for an impending storm.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Hiccup finally asked, careful not to speak too loudly.

Eret nodded slowly. "I am. It's time I get Drago back for everything he's done. Everyone he's hurt."

Hiccup took in a deep breath and exhaled, glancing down at his boots and scraping his feet on the ship's clean deck. "Thank you for doing this. For everything that you've done for us. Astrid and I wouldn't be here now if not for you."

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," Eret replied, turning his head and appraising Hiccup seriously now. Eret wore a hard look, tense but determined. "It's been a tough, painful few weeks. I've lost the only people I've ever cared about because of you. My crew was my family."

Hiccup's throat instantly dried up, like a desert yearning for rain. He gulped and it somehow hurt, finding himself completely at a loss for words. He tried his best to muster a response. "Um, I…"

"But now I have new people to care about. I care about you, and Astrid, and your friends. I care about Thorönd. I miss my crew more than I ever thought I'd miss anyone, and yet somehow, I know they'd be proud of me. Most of them anyway," Eret reflected. Hiccup relaxed his shoulders only slightly, his heart panging with guilt. Eret puffed out his chest, his features now a model of determination, "No matter what, I can always keep fighting to remember them, as long as I'm still breathing. And I intend to do that."

Hiccup nodded. "I'm really grateful for you, Eret. I'm sorry about what happened to your crew. They didn't deserve it. When this is over, they'll get funerals befitting those of our people. I'll make sure that their names aren't forgotten."

Eret's eyes widened in surprise at the show of generosity. "I… I can't accept—"

"You can, and you will," Hiccup interjected, smiling but still remaining firm. "You're one of us now, Eret. It is the very least that I can do." Toothless warbled in agreement, urging Eret to accept.

Eret held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded solemnly. "Thank you," he said, and Hiccup raised a hand to clasp the former trapper's shoulder. He pivoted on his right foot and started padding away. Eret's voice stopped him as he was halfway down the steps to put him back on the deck.

"If something happens to me," Eret blurted out, pausing until Hiccup turned his head slightly to show that he was listening. Eret drew his bottom lip into his mouth, wetting it and taking a preparatory breath before continuing, "If something goes wrong, take care of Thorönd for me." The Thunderdrum was riding on one of the other ships, unable to blast fire and therefore incapable of helping with the plan to infiltrate Drago's fleet. The sea dragon would find his place when all Hel broke loose, hopefully reuniting with Eret to take part in the battle.

"I will. I promise," Hiccup assured him, and then he resumed walking down the steps, leaving Eret to his thoughts. Once he was halfway across the deck, he raised his voice. "Let's get going! We only have a few more hours of darkness left!" The call carried from Viking to Viking on board, and then from ship to ship.

"Set sail!"

"You heard the man!"

"Reel in the anchors!"

"C'mon bud," Hiccup said, setting his right foot in the stirrup and swinging his body up and over Toothless' back. He wriggled in the saddle to get comfortable and then opened Toothless' tailfin, lifting off of the deck and heading to the longship he'd be riding on with Astrid and a few others. Toothless easily glided the short distance and Hiccup swung off as soon as the Night Fury landed on the boat.

The sails on Drago's ships unrolled and they started to drift northward, taking in the wind and slithering ahead of the armada. Once the stolen ships were far enough ahead, the rest of the armada started tailing them, keeping a safe distance. Fog stirred up above the sea as it grew even colder, which would lend even more help to them when the Smokebreaths started creating their own fog to go with it.

So far, everything was going right.

Astrid kneeled over the bucket of paint, gently wiping the pads of her index finger near her eyes. She left behind two ashen streaks that colored in her lower eyelids, the war paint making her look more menacing. The coming battle was a fight for survival, a fight for everything she believed in, and she wanted to look the part, if nothing else. A few others had painted themselves, but not all, and she was content being in the minority.

She rose to her feet once she was done painting, having added two soot-grey stripes striking across her temples and down to meet her ears. Her axe was strapped to her back, gingerly covered by a clean cloth to protect its blade from the salt. Her flaxen hair was bound in a tight braid that would keep the locks from flying every which way as she fought. Cleaning blood out of her hair was neither easy nor fun.

The longship rocked on the waves as they sailed, the edge of Berk visible in the distance to the east. They'd separated from the rest of the fleet nearly an hour ago and were headed to link up with the Meathead warband, who had been alerted of the change in plans beforehand by the riders Astrid had sent. Their target was the cliffs separating the western woods from the seas, where the Meathead fleet would be waiting. The new plan was in place, and as far as anyone could tell, they hadn't been spotted. No bells or horns had erupted from the village. She hoped it stayed that way—this wasn't a conventional plan.

Then again, nothing about her husband was conventional. Not that that bothered her—in fact, quite the opposite. Hiccup was brilliant, and Astrid believed in him more than she could say. Still, she could see the tension in his shoulders from across the deck. He refused to leave the bow, insistent on watching everything that he could.

She walked up to stand beside him, staring. He felt her gaze and turned his head to meet her eyes, but they said nothing. There wasn't anything to be said. They were going to come out of this alive and be able to say everything they wanted to say from this point on. Astrid had to believe that.

Eventually, the longships passed the island in the distance and changed course, sailing near the north side of Berk completely out of sight. The cliffs were looming over them soon enough, their moonlit shadows cutting a swath through the dark sea. Hiding in their wake were more than thirty Meathead ships. Their own vessels, only eight in number but packed with people and dragons sent their anchors plummeting into the sea, sliding down, down, down until they finally found purchase in the shallows. Everything fell deathly silent; the sea waves making the only noise as they slapped against the cliffs where they met the water.

"Okay, everyone," Hiccup started, the first words he'd said in almost two hours. He was careful not to shout and cause his voice to carry. "Get on your dragons and let's head to the cliffs. Make sure to keep quiet," Hiccup hissed, and the word spread like lightning across the other ships. Riders climbed into their saddles and the boats rocked with their motion, bobbing in the restless ocean around them. Astrid crawled onto Stormfly, clasping her fingers around the saddle's handlebars and checking absently to make sure her axe was still in its place.

The takeoff was easy, and the dragon horde calmly carried the Vikings from the anchored ships to the tops of the cliffs, one of the most elevated points on Berk that wasn't Raven Point. There wasn't a soul to be seen or heard. Drago and his foreigners likely hadn't come this far from the village. The area was a strategic liability, especially when the enemy had dragons, and was an easy access point onto the island. That was their advantage; the coming battle was to be fought in their home arena.

Astrid landed next to Hiccup, followed by Heather, Fishlegs, and Snotlout. The twins had been left behind with Dagur and the other chiefs in the portion of the fleet waiting to approach under the Smokebreaths' cover, while Camicazi, Eret, Thuggory were riding on the stolen ships, disguised as Drago's men returning from scouting. Things were shaping up nicely.

Their portion of the army eventually gathered on the cliffs, silent as a couple of sneaky Terrors. Their numbers weren't that impressive; the true bulk of the force was in the Smokebreaths' ships. Hiccup's job was to simply get in and out of the prisons to check for his people and then return to the forests, waiting for the right time to join the attack and split Drago's forces.

Next, the Meathead force rose from their ships nearby and flew to the cliffs. Their numbers were greater, and at the head of the pack was Mogadon, sitting atop his great Monstrous Nightmare, a dragon he'd so lovingly named Killer. The hefty Meathead Chief landed close by and dismounted in a shimmering shower of steel and leather, armed to the teeth.

"Mogadon," Hiccup greeted.

"Hiccup."

"Are your people ready?"

Mogadon nodded curtly, digging a hand through his absurdly thick beard. "Aye. Followin' your lead, sonny." Hiccup nodded appreciatively.

Toothless warbled at him as the group amassed, cluttering the bluffs like they'd never been before. Hiccup smiled and lifted a hand to touch the Night Fury's nose. "I know, bud. Let's get moving. Tell the dragons to hang back and keep it down." Toothless accepted the task with dedication, bounding over as carefully as he could and nudging through clusters of Vikings to address his fellow dragons.

"Everyone else, follow us," Hiccup said, "Stay low, and be on the lookout for anything."

"And take care where you tread," Astrid added, "The dark hides all kinds of pitfalls. If we make too much noise, we'll be screwed." Hiccup nodded at her, grateful. She was right, after all. She wasn't the first person to have tripped in a rut in the ground in these woods. There was a reason she never trained on this side of the island.

"Yeah, what she said," Snotlout hissed, in a lame attempt to sound in control. Other than that, he looked unusually serious, his fingers flexing by the handle of his hammer and his eyes dashing back and forth as if the enemy would come charging out to attack them at any point.

It was admirable, at least.

Without any more time to dawdle, the group waded through the darkened forest, taking great care not to rustle the bushes on their way converging towards the village. More than a hundred Vikings crept on, a similar number of dragons bringing up the rear. Toothless stayed closer to Hiccup, and Stormfly to Astrid, loyal and protective to a fault. Mogadon tailed close behind, one hand on the shaft of his enormous battle-axe as he looked suspiciously around. The Meathead Chief's blood seemed to boil with pent-up fury, thirsting for the revenge he'd been denied for more than ten years.

Eventually, Astrid saw the torches in the distance, marking the end of their trek. The forest buzzed with the noise of various hidden insects, concealing the sounds of their approach. Astrid breathed and pushed through some foliage, suddenly feeling the dried war paint on her skin as she kneeled down at the forest's edge to observe. She reached over and stripped the cloth from her axe blade, freeing the clean steel at last and relishing as the blade seemed to sing.

Gods protect us, she sent a silent prayer, sure that they were watching above her and listening. Her father was a devout man, instilling in her a similarly unshakeable faith from a young age. On the seas and winds, she felt Njord. In fire, she felt Freya. In the pouring rain and pounding thunder, she felt Thor more than anything. She'd never lost her grip on them, and never would.

Ingvar Hofferson had always told her that Asgard protected its heroes, safeguarded them. And while she didn't think herself so fortunate, she knew in her bones that Drago Bludvist was no champion in the eyes of the gods.

He would fall this day. Of that, she was certain.

He was tense all the way, waiting for something to go wrong, because something seemingly always did. It felt like hours that they'd been walking, and still nothing came. No warning cry from one of the dragons bringing up the rear. No snap of twigs in the distance giving away any stalking enemies. Nothing but chirping insects and the almost-overwhelming weight of what was coming on his shoulders until they finally came upon the village.

A few torches were lit at certain houses throughout the town. A few soldiers lazily patrolled the grounds, meandering up and down the streets. Hiccup and the others were far from their sight; they'd reached the break in the trees very close to the Great Hall, and its shadow made it even harder for them to be seen. The door to the prisons was close, with the cells built beneath the Great Hall long ago in an effort to maximize space. Hiccup remembered his stay in those cells five years ago, after his and Astrid's disastrous attempt to show Berk the truth about dragons during her final exam.

Hiccup shook his head to dispel the thoughts. He needed to focus. He took another look into the town, watching and waiting as he soaked in what he saw. It appeared that Drago's men had made themselves at home in the village, taking up residence in whatever houses they pleased. He wondered if they'd been looted beforehand, stripped of possessions and trinkets deemed valuable by Drago's invaders.

Then he looked up and over the town and his breath hitched in his throat. Watching the village from the top of the hill near the harbor was his father's house, and its lanterns were lit out front. Someone had decided to quarter themselves in the house of the Chief, and that felt like the ultimate form of disrespect. Probably Drago and his generals. The idea made Hiccup's blood boil-how dare they-but again he forced himself to cool.

"Your dad's house," Astrid whispered, seeing the same thing he saw.

"I know," Hiccup said through gritted teeth. "We don't have time to get up in arms. Let's get started."

Astrid nodded and disappeared again into the undergrowth, returning with Heather, Fishlegs, and a few others mixed in from their allies. Toothless and Stormfly huddled close to the group, and Hiccup thought he saw the telltale shine of Windshear's scales not too far away.

"Toothless, I need you to stay with everyone else. Protect them for me, okay, bud?" Hiccup asked, nuzzling against the Night Fury. Toothless warbled anxiously at the thought of separation. "I know, I know. I'll be fine. I've got Astrid to protect me in there, right?"

Toothless glanced over at Astrid with citrine eyes, blinking warmly as he examined the blonde warrior, second only to Hiccup in his heart. The dragon let out another warble and nudged into Astrid's stomach gently, a slight gesture that Hiccup took to mean bring him back in one piece, please?

"Don't you worry about us, Toothless," Astrid assured the Night Fury, and she placed a soft hand on his muzzle, smiling as the black dragon shut his eyes and exhaled, his narrow nostrils expanding to let the air out. When he reopened his eyes, Toothless snorted under his breath and then retreated into the darkness, dutifully heading to his task.

"Please be careful in there," Fishlegs' voice squeaked, and Hiccup turned his head to reply. He stopped, though, when he realized that Fishlegs wasn't speaking to him. The husky boy was crouched behind the undergrowth, like all of them, and he was gingerly holding both of Heather's hands in his. Heather was wearing a smile.

"I promise I will, if you promise to watch over everyone while I'm gone. Think you can do that?" Heather asked, voice sweet and soft. Fishlegs nodded anxiously, and then Heather leaned forward to peck him on the cheek, pulling away as fast as she had moved toward him.

Snotlout had found his way into the group, probably for no other reason but to make sure he knew when they left and came back, but like Hiccup and Astrid, he'd found himself looking at Heather and Fishlegs interacting, and Heather kissing Fish on the cheek had sent Snotlout's jaw to the ground. There was a good chance the only reason he'd remained quiet was because he knew if he didn't, they'd all be sent on a one-way trip to Valhalla.

Without another word, Fishlegs shuffled away, avoiding the gaze of everyone who might've seen what had just happened, and then Heather pivoted around to face the village. She felt everyone's eyes on her, especially Hiccup's, and craned her neck to look at them all. Her left eye twitched.

"What?" Heather whispered. Hiccup blinked about six times to recover his composure and then accosted Astrid with a look. She shrugged.

"I'll tell you later," she offered, and Hiccup turned to look back into the village. That was fair. They returned to watching the patrols, and once there was an obvious gap in the groups shuffling through the streets, Hiccup and the others ducked out of the bushes and scampered to the door beneath the Great Hall that led to the prisons. There was no guard posted outside, so it stood to reason there would be a few inside.

The team, only half a dozen strong, braced their backs against the thick stone. The adjacent door leading into the prisons was built into the side of the enormous building, and as long as they remained close, the shadow of the Great Hall would cover them.

"Alright, the three of us are going in. You girls ready?" Hiccup whispered. Astrid and Heather nodded, as if to tell him that they were ready and impatient to get in and out.

"Oi, sonny. Yer not going in there without me," Mogadon grunted.

Hiccup held the Meathead Chief in his gaze for a few seconds before deciding to consent and nodding. He steadied himself with a breath and nodded before turning his attention to the other two men that had followed them over.

"Alright. You two, stay out here and keep an eye out. If someone starts coming too close, open the door a bit and whistle the signal. If it comes to it, leave us behind. We can take care of ourselves," The other two Vikings, nameless faces from the Meathead tribe, nodded in unison.

Hiccup psyched himself up with a few preparatory breaths. He hoped whatever he found inside wouldn't crush him. He hoped there were living, breathing bodies inside, and he hoped that one of those warm bodies was his father's. One way or another, he was about to find out and put his questions to rest.

"Okay. Go," he said. One of the Vikings he didn't know fastened his hand around the doorknob and carefully slid the door open, creating a gap just wide enough for Hiccup and the others to squeeze through without making a sound. Astrid slithered in first, then Heather, and then he slipped in ahead of Mogadon, the chieftain's hefty body just barely managing to slide through without a sound. The door closed behind them, and Hiccup's field of vision instantly shrank, but two torches lit at their end of the corridor gave him just enough light to see by.

Sitting right there at the table were three guards, helmets off and bits of their armor removed, probably for comfort. They were also all awake.

The one that saw them first was directly facing them. His hair was red and had been shaved almost to the scalp, no facial hair to speak of, and his forehead was marked with an unusual tattoo of some sort of creature twisting in on itself. The foreigner flinched, uttering a startled "What—" before Astrid and Heather were on his two friends, brandishing their axes and clobbering them in their unprotected heads with the pommels. The guard who had seen them reached for his sword, but Hiccup raced at him and vaulted over the table, crashing with the full force of his weight against the man.

The guard hadn't been expecting the move and staggered back as Hiccup collided with him, collapsing to the floor. He gave a vicious snarl and tried to scramble back to his feet, but his fall had created just enough of a lapse in judgment for Astrid to appear at his side and smack him in the head with the flat of her axe, likewise knocking him out where he lay.

"Thanks," Hiccup breathed, relaxed. Astrid nudged him on the shoulder in response.

"Don't mention it."

That was when the whispering trickled into Hiccup's ears. The corridor teemed with hushed muttering, questions flying back and forth. Hiccup and Astrid exchanged a knowing look. Prisoners. Without wasting another second, they bolted around the corner from the table and into the jailhouse's corridor. Heather followed, snatching a lit torch from the wall and holding it over her head. The firelight illuminated the end of the hallway, reflecting off of the various cells that lined the walls. Vikings crept up to the doors of their cells, looking through to see their rescuers.

"It's Hiccup!" someone hissed.

"And Astrid too!"

"We're saved!"

Hiccup scampered forward desperately, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Where's my dad? Is he here?" he stammered, looking back and forth between the cells holding his people. "Is he alright?" he begged.

After a second of pause, someone that he couldn't see wheezed his name. "Hiccup?" the noise came. Hiccup's ears twitched at the sound and he looked down the hall. With a bated breath, he powered past the cells toward the hall, calling out for Stoick under his breath.

"Dad? Dad?" he hissed, "Dad, are you here?"

He turned his head to look through one of the dark cells, and what he saw caused him to plant his feet and stop in his tracks. He very nearly stumbled at the sudden move, and immediately he pressed himself up against the bars. In the corner of the cell was a huddled mass, only visible thanks to a vestige of light from Heather's torch down the hall from him.

"Hiccup?" the voice came slowly in askance, and Hiccup's blood pressure spiked. He couldn't see his face, but there was no doubt in his mind that the prisoner in this particular cell was absolutely, undeniably his father.

"Get the keys, now!" Hiccup turned his head and hissed. Heather, her face illuminated under the torch, nodded feverishly and turned on her heel, footfalls light as she returned the way they'd come. In the retreating light, Hiccup saw Astrid come sprinting toward him, nearly barreling into him as she found Stoick's cell as well.

"Stoick?" she called, shoulder touching Hiccup's.

"Astrid? Hiccup?" Stoick groaned. He sounded so uncharacteristically weak. "Is that really you?"

"It's us, Dad. It's really us," Hiccup stammered. He wanted to tear his way through the metal bars, but they were sturdy and immovable. That surge of energy pooled in his throat, escaping in a desperate gasp that was half-strangled and half-jubilant, on the verge of bursting into tears.

His father was alive.

Somehow, Astrid hadn't expected the tidal wave of physical relief that washed over her when she heard Stoick's voice. Hiccup had snapped at Heather to get the keys and pressed himself up against the bars, and her only instinct had been to run and see Stoick for herself.

Heather returned with the keys, passing them into Hiccup's bristling hands. Hiccup fumbled with them at first, trying each of the many keys on the cell door until he finally found the right one. When the lock finally turned, he had the sense to open the door quietly, but after that he bolted inside the cell and left the door to swing freely in his wake. Astrid caught the gate in her hand before she followed, and Heather carefully stepped in to illuminate the cell from behind them.

The light reflected off of the bars and dimly revealed the cell in its entirety. Stoick was resting against the wall, his red beard unkempt and skin dirtied from days of incarceration. His armor looked battered, and his wrists were fastened together by thick, heavy manacles. But when he saw Hiccup and Astrid, the only thing that the injured chieftain could do was beam. The action appeared difficult, Stoick's wrinkles seeming deeper and more prevalent than usual. Hiccup lurched forward again, collapsing to his knees when he reached his father and ensnaring him in a desperate hug, hands scrabbling against Stoick's back as he tried to hold him impossibly tighter.

"Son," Stoick murmured, leaning his head on Hiccup's shoulder. Astrid covered her mouth with her hands, shielding her quivering smile. She heard Hiccup let out another choked sob under his breath.

"Thank Odin, thank Thor, thank all the gods you're alive. I feared the worst," Hiccup whined, finally releasing his suffocating hold on Stoick and pulling back. He left his hands on the Chief's shoulders, gripping the armored plates that adorned them and making sure that he couldn't magically fade away in front of him.

"As did I," Stoick wheezed, "It should be me thanking the gods that you both live."

"We came to find you and the others Drago took prisoner. We brought everyone—the Berserkers, the Bog Burglars, the Meatheads. Even Alvin is here, waiting for the signal," Hiccup explained. Stoick looked up and past him and Astrid as two heavy footsteps resounded behind them. The hulking figure of Mogadon, so similar to the Chief of Berk's, stood over the three of them, arms slack at his sides in surprise.

"Stoick."

"Mogadon," Stoick nodded, the joints in his old, stiff neck crackling as he did. He looked back to Hiccup. "Everyone?" he repeated, eyeing Hiccup with disbelief.

"Everyone." Stoick cracked a wide smile.

Astrid's eyes trailed down to Stoick's manacles, and then further down. The ends of his clothes were burnt, and she motioned for Heather to hand her the torch as cold curiosity overwhelmed her. Heather padded over and passed the flame, which Astrid held out in front of herself in order to see.

The scene was grisly, sending Astrid's stomach roiling as she imagined what things looked like under the bandages. There was so much cloth wrapped around Stoick's legs; the tree trunks that he walked on looked even larger now thanks to the layered dressings. Even his boots had been removed, more bandagings binding his bare feet. Hiccup had said Drago had burned Stoick, but still she hadn't been sure what amount of burns to expect.

The new lighting caught Hiccup's attention, too. His breath hitched and he fell painfully silent, staring at the bandages as if he could make the injuries beneath them go away if he just furrowed his brow hard enough. Stoick's face contorted like he was embarrassed by their looks.

"How?" Hiccup croaked, but the way he was saying it made it clear what he really meant. How did you survive, he was asking? How had his wounds not gotten infected, how had the trauma not killed him, how had Drago's men not just put him out of his misery?

Stoick mustered enough strength to formulate a proud smirk. "It takes more than a little fire to kill me."

"Walking is going to be so hard. You'll never fight again," Hiccup said. But Stoick shrugged, like he had come to terms with everything. There was light in his face now that hadn't been there when they'd first walked in. It was like speaking to them had lifted all of the weight off of his shoulders and he could finally breathe again.

"I was thinking of hanging up my hammer soon, anyway," Stoick murmured. Another small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Astrid couldn't help but a smile a little, either. Here was her father-in-law, broken, beat, and scarred, but he still managed to be cheerful and banter with his son.

It occurred to her that they'd already been here for a while and made no progress. Their friends on the other side of the jailhouse door hadn't signaled them yet, but that didn't mean they had an abundance of time. How were Cami and Eret doing? Were the others just off the island in position?

"Let's get these chains off of you. We need to get everyone out of here, quickly," Astrid asserted. Stoick glanced up at her, the warmth of the torch in her hands reflecting off of her flaxen locks and showering her cheeks with heat.

"Free everyone else, first. I can wait," Stoick insisted. Astrid didn't bother to refuse, and she craned her neck. Stoick was as stubborn as a boar.

"Heather, you heard him," was all she said. Heather gave her a fierce nod and raced off, taking Mogadon with her as she blazed through the ring of keys and unlocked cells. Each clang of a metal door being unlocked made Astrid's heart pound less, and the murmured voices of Vikings being freed relaxed her.

"Dad, I… I need to tell you something," Hiccup blurted once the three of them were alone again. Stoick's brow furrowed as he eyed his son.

"What's troubling you, son?"

"I've been keeping this from you—I swear that I only found out on our way back after escaping Drago, and she didn't want me to tell you—" Astrid's eyes widened. This wasn't exactly the best time to tell Stoick about Valka, right? Was Hiccup even thinking this through?

"Hiccup. Hiccup," Stoick cut in, catching his attention the second time he said his name. Hiccup stopped his rambling, but he really looked like he wanted to continue being nonsensical. "Whatever it is, you don't need to apologize to me. For anything, I—"

"Mom's alive."

Stoick stiffened, caught in the middle of his words. His green eyes looked ready to burst out of his head as he held Hiccup in his gaze, his mouth visibly hanging open underneath all of his facial hair.

"What?" the Chief uttered, stunned into total inaction.

Someone's foot scraped against the stone, and Astrid looked over her shoulder to see that a few prisoners had ambled over to Stoick's cell, some of them peering inside and debating whether or not they should enter. Now, they all looked frozen—they must've heard what Hiccup had said, too. Astrid held the torch out in front of her, eyeing each face. She recognized them all—from Pinkeye Gunderson to Trollbreath Halfbrain. More than a few unlucky Berkians who had been captured in the retreat, but she found herself relieved that none of them had been killed.

When she looked back at her husband and father-in-law, they were both still standing there in a silent standoff, Hiccup not sure how to continue and Stoick uncertain if he'd actually heard what he thought he'd heard.

"Probably not good timing," Hiccup muttered. Well, at least he recognized that. "But I needed to tell you, in case something goes wrong. In case this plan doesn't work out. So, yeah. She's alive. And she's here to fight with us. She didn't want me to tell you when we first got back… I chased her away before I could realize what a mistake I was making. I didn't know whose side I was supposed to be on, when I shouldn't have been taking sides to begin with—"

Stoick was staring off into space, mouth hanging open in disbelief, when Heather rounded the doorframe back into Stoick's cell. She held the ring of keys out to Astrid. "That's all of them," the black-haired woman said, and Astrid passed the torch back into her hands in exchange for the keys. With a purpose, Astrid walked over to Stoick, recognizing the awkward air between him and his son.

"A little light, Hiccup?" she asked, and Hiccup brandished Inferno without a word. The blade ignited with a slow burn, filling the cell with even more light than before. He held the blade low as Astrid crouched by the locks on Stoick's manacles, finagling the first key into the keyhole. The flames warmed her cheeks and she could feel them getting redder from the boost in temperature.

It was so quiet as she worked, cursing under her breath as the first and second keys failed to turn the lock. She wanted someone to say something, anything that might distract third key didn't fit the lock even a little bit. She swore colorfully and felt Stoick's surprised eyes fall on her as a result, making her cheeks burn up for reasons other than Inferno's heat.

The fifth key that Astrid tried finally slid into the lock, smoothly enough that she instantly knew it would do the trick. "Oh, thank the gods," she muttered. She'd been starting to worry that the key for the shackles wasn't going to be on the keyring at all, perhaps possessed by Drago or one of his wretched generals.

She turned the key and together with Hiccup pried the shackles open, freeing Stoick's wrists for what must've been the first time in days. The Chief relaxed as the manacles came off, squeezing each of his wrists with his opposite hand as feeling came back to them.

"Val's alive? My Val?" he mumbled, holding Hiccup and Astrid in his stare. It was the first thing he'd bothered to say since Astrid had kneeled down to unlock his chains. Astrid exchanged a look with Hiccup and, carefully, they both nodded. Stoick seized, sucking in a sharp breath and flinching like he'd been betrayed. But then he averted his eyes and looked at the wall, green eyes pulsing with introspection.

"I need to see her," he insisted, and he tried to push himself to his feet despite it being obvious that he wouldn't be able to do so.

"No," Hiccup said, and Stoick momentarily gave up on trying to stand. His damaged legs tensed, and he affixed his son with an almost contemptuous glare for having the audacity to deny him.

He tried again to stand, pushing and straining. "I need to find her," he muttered, a stubborn bull doggedly insisting on banging his head against a boulder and maintaining that it would eventually split in two.

"No, you can't!" Hiccup hissed, blowing up in a flash of anger, like watching Stoick's effort had set him off. Stoick gave in again, and when Hiccup spoke again his voice was strangled, hurt by the sight of Stoick's pain. "Do you not realize how hurt you are?" Stoick gave an obstinate scowl, the notion that he was too hurt to fend for himself striking him like some great and terrible offense.

"They're scratches."

"No, they're not! If you try to get out there and find Mom, you're going to get yourself killed and all this will have been for nothing. You're in no shape to do anything but rest," Hiccup insisted.

Astrid concurred, placing a reassuring hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "Listen to him, Stoick. We have a plan to beat Drago. Please, just trust us on that."

Stoick appraised them both and swallowed. His green eyes flicked past them for a moment, perhaps to look at his tribesmen that he'd suffered imprisonment with. They must've all concurred with Hiccup and Astrid, because he finally relaxed.

"Okay," Stoick said, curling in on himself a bit as he met Hiccup's eyes once more. Astrid felt the tension relax from Hiccup's shoulder with her hand, and the very air seemed to cool off.

"Thank you," Hiccup said quietly, and then he tightened up again as he prepared to go, "Now, let's get you out of here."

Astrid shuffled out of the way as Hiccup crouched by his father, joined by Mogadon and a Viking named Starkard. The two muscular men helped Stoick off of the ground, balancing him on their shoulders, and then Hiccup took over for Starkard, draping Stoick's arm around himself and dragging him forward. The Chief's feet dragged at first, but he stubbornly tried to step with them, keeping as much of his weight off of his legs as he could despite the difficulty. Hiccup appeared to be struggling, too, but he forced himself to continue. Judging by his face, Astrid guessed it meant a lot to him right now to be the one to bring his father out of the jail.

Heather led the way with her torch, keeping the corridor lit. A few Vikings followed right behind her, but most of them stayed behind Stoick, Hiccup, and Astrid. Hiccup winced as he readjusted, digging himself further underneath Stoick's arm.

"I swear, Dad, you have to lay off the mead," Hiccup joked under his breath, a dry laugh crackling off of his tongue. Stoick even chuckled a little, too, sounding exhausted.

"Can always count on you to make cracks about my weight…" the Chief wheezed.

"Oi, I'll say I agree with the boy, you stubborn old yak," Mogadon groused, shifting Stoick's weight on his shoulder.

"Lovely to see you too, Mogadon, you cod-brained fool," said the Chief of Berk. The two men chuckled, old friends even behind the insults. Whenever the men met, they'd always engaged in this foolishness, greeting one another with the first disrespectful moniker they could come up with.

"I hope you realize…" Mogadon nagged, "That this is a huge favor, and I'm going to be expecting a more favorable trade deal at the next Thing."

Stoick snorted, another relieving sign of life in the mountainous man. "Over my dead body, Mogadon." The Meathead Chief laughed under his breath, enjoying himself.

Hiccup sniggered and was just about to say something else when they heard the explosions. A thousand deafening booms instantly echoed through the walls, rattling even the bars of the jail cells. Hiccup nearly lost his footing from the shaking, and Astrid's fingers tightened against the hilt of her axe as she powered forward in front of her husband, watching the front door as if a swarm of soldiers were going to come pouring inside to stop them.

The shaking and the explosions settled down almost as quickly as they had begun, and for several seconds there was an unrelenting quiet in the corridor. Finally, with a low bellow, one of the Berkians spoke up.

"What the Hel was that?"

"Shit," Hiccup swore. Astrid looked over her shoulder and met his eyes, pulse pounding in her chest. She had hoped to have a few extra minutes to prepare herself, but it seemed she wouldn't be getting that luxury. Hiccup answered the confused Berkian right then and there, never breaking eye contact with Astrid.

"It's the signal. They're early."

If you enjoyed this chapter, please, please consider posting a review. I really want to know what you guys think, because I really loved writing this chapter. A lot more exciting than the last few combined, I'd say. Got any favorite little bits somewhere in this chapter? Anything that you hate? Let me know if so, any sort of feedback is welcome and appreciated. Thanks everyone for reading, and I'll see you again soon.