Edited.

A crackling, steady fire against a chill summer night was the only thing Artichoke could hear while his grandfather, already blinded and scarred from old age would tell him and his siblings about the further dragons. He couldn't read yet and any of these beasts were the same big, dangerous, fire-creating monsters. Still, the boy was old enough to know the Berkians classified a few of those, even though he didn't know why or how, all he had to inform him were stories, and his grandfather was the greatest of them.

"The Monstrous Nightmare. Might not be the most venturesome hazardous of dragons out there, but it's the biggest we could capture", the old Viking held his gaze to the fire, as if looking back to his golden time.

"Capture? I thought we killed dragons before they killed us", it was a childish voice, unfitting for the growing young man he was at the current time.

A wave of agreement came from the younger children, all sharing the same golden hair they inherited from both Hofferson parents.

"Ah! Killing is for the adults, you smoll ones should run for safety until yer old enough", their mother reminding them, thicker accent as if to approve her own father, telling stories of an older generations of warriors. Artichoke could see his youngest brother yawning and nesting on their mother's lap, a caring rough hand brushing the toddler's locks rather than his own.

His grandfather was smiling back to his descendants, to Artichoke specifically, the first-born of his first-born. "We capture these monsters so our young warriors can get the honor of proving themselves in front of all, so they can prove their capacity and strength in front of us, in front of the gods".

"Only the mightiest Vikings get this glory though, they first need to prove their value to the elder", the patriarchal figure of the Hofferson clan responded then, before ordering his offspring to be done with the stories and sleep for the night.

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Despite training for that his whole life, Artichoke, now nearly ten years older than that strong memory of his ancestor, now much taller and stronger than the boy listening to his grandfather, despite it all… There he stood. Shaking like a little bitch.

"Are you alright?", the soft voice of his wife was heard. Low, but close enough to listen. She was at the gate, accompanying him till it was opened and all those gazes concentrated in only him and the fire-proof being coming his way.

The previous night, he admitted he didn't long for bloodshed either, dragon or not. He was taught to fight his whole life, but he wasn't a murderer, and if dragons were as intelligent as she claimed, well, then, wasn't this the same of killing a human? He didn't know. He didn't know anything about dragons anymore. And he both hated and- was grateful to that insane lean girl behind him.

The world she had been exposed to did seemed like a dreamland where dragons were friendly, even if this one was probably gonna eat him alive if given the chance. It didn't help he was still sore from fighting that Gronckle the day before.

"No", he said, simply.

"Be careful".

He didn't want to look at Hiccup right now, either. Artichoke already felt like letting his last meal be sent back from the same place it got in, and the sudden, annoyingly frequent butterflies Hiccup could cause him weren't going to help right now, even if he doubted his mind would wonder to that side.

On the couple nights past the discovery of her… Friend, they seemed to loosen up a bit. And he knew he was out of his mind when he came home from fighting Snotlout, but Artichoke was also rather sober on the night before when he stared, shamelessly to her lips, almost asking such sinful things in fear of not being successful against the Monstruous Nightmare. It was a selfish request, sure, but it was also cowardice not to ask.

"You too".

"I'm not the one facing a dragon".

He looked back at her then, knowing the gate was soon to open. Her lip was curled up on one side. He wanted to taste it before he got in, but, yet again, like a coward, he didn't.

"Though it's not just the dragons I worry about". He wasn't sure who she was saying this to, but he knew what was about.

Artichoke had no time to reply when the sudden sunlight blinded him a bit. This wasn't happening so early in the morning, and all were wide awake to see how it would play out. Chief Stoick was sat satisfied in his usual seat, with Gothi near enough. The Hoffersons were close. His parents sheered and his siblings tried to get a better look. They were all there. He couldn't see his friends, but they were all there. All of Berk.

Soon the thick stem would free the solid, metal gate. Inside, there would be a red-colored, loudly hissing beast with gas to spare and meals lacking. The Monstruous Nightmare shoot a blast towards the chains above, not even aiming, just to let out its anger as it growled against all Vikings, probably cursing them all for having it imprisoned. It's angry. It's really, really angry.

This beast was considerably bigger than any other dragons Artichoke faced in this arena, bigger than the Night Fury. He had seen these in previous, raids, of course, but never this close, with nothing to hunt but him. With that last thought still fresh, the beast seemed to finally see it couldn't burn its way out and looked at the teen alone at the arena, yelling a last battle cry before doving with fire.

Artichoke dove, rolling away. Survive. First, survive, to kill it or not, that's a story for later. Another blast of fire broke his thoughts again. Right, think.

Rather than four legs like Toothless, the Monstruous Nightmares were wyverns, like Deadly Nadders, and at the same time, not like Nadders at all. Nadders let spikes out of their tails, easy to defend from with a good shield, they were considered smarter, of a sorts, as well, calculating a better way to attack and, by consequence, giving the Viking time to think.

This crimson hell wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and despite its raw anger and constant attacks, the dragon was weakened. It was hungry and had no strategy in his attacks.

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Artichoke was a natural-born warrior, that was something Hiccup and most of her peers agreed ever since they'd play with wood-made weapons as small children. Shields and a variety of weapons was left in the arena, case the chosen teen of this year threw or destroyed one.

As the Chief's daughter, one might expect her to sit and watch this decisive brawl by Stoick's side. True, it was the agreement. Yet another one she'd break as soon as the first orange flames were seen poking the roofs of that damned rink. Her worry shouting of his name was muffled by other, cheerful sounds of her people.

She watched it all just a few steps from the door she used to walk in almost every day near sunrise, hands gripping on the iron bars. The Monstrous Nightmare hadn't even noticed him yet. Crawling up and wasting its breath.

Hiccup remembered when she bumped into one of these dragons, obliviously walking backwards, just after shooting Toothless and looking for any possible human witness. The air leaving that breed's nostrils was enough to boil her skin and she was soon running for any sort of shelter.

Artichoke wouldn't have that. It was broad daylight, and he was the only prey in there. She truly believed all dragons could be friendly, could be domesticated and could coexist peacefully someday, but this one- this one was rightfully enraged with them, the same way Toothless was enraged with her when she let go of those ropes, arresting the Night Fury against the humid forest floor. The difference is this dragon had no reason to not defend from his attacker and possible killer. Possible… it was one or the other.

Death through fighting it was more than an occupational hazard within the Viking lifestyle, it was also a certain key to the gates of Valhalla, she knew that. She knew that be it from a dragon's claw or an enemy's blade, those who died in battle had the same fate, or so their religion told them.

Well, fuck Odin and this all, she didn't want him to die, either. It was Artichoke she was watching, lasting way more than she ever could, he hit the inflammable-skin animal sometimes, but he was a trip of his feet from being burnt alive in front of them. Had the matches from previous years all lasted this long?

Hiccup remembered the poor Zippleback when she came to apologize for the eel. Those four eyes were uneasy, apprehensive… Yet so ready to let her scratch both chins once they ate her fish. Just an act as peaceful, as simple and kind as feeding them and apologizing, and she had made a new friend- well friends. Not only all that shouting, and cheering would make anyone anxious, she thought, but all that dragon could see was Artichoke holding to his weapon.

Until it finally got advantage. In the blink of an eye, the promising warrior was at his feet, arm stuck with the shield, seemingly glued between a crack of that damned, old arena. He was on the floor and the crowd gasped, rather than cheered.

No, once again, Hiccup couldn't remember actually deciding, she just could remember using any and all adrenaline-driven strength stored inside her lanky body, against the front door, she ran in.

She ran in and had all the attention on her again, including the dragon's and his forgotten prey.