I know that I said this story was done, but apparently I lied. Lol. This was originally a part of the prologue for the final book, and it was just going to be a sneak peek, but it just never seemed to fit. Especially timeline wise. As such, it has now become a third epilogue for this story. One that gives another little dash of insight towards some of the happenings in the third book. I will be adjusting the orders of the chapters once this is posted, so hopefully it doesn't confuse ya'll too much in the meantime. It really is an epilogue :P

To anyone that follows me on Tumblr (triumphantfury), you will know that I had originally hoped to have this up by Monday. Unfortunately the most recent update on FanFiction . Net was not letting me create or modify any documents on my account. I decided to wait until I could upload this to all of the fanfic sites at once, rather than posting it on some of them, and then trying to remember to add it to this one afterwards. So, after much ranting and cussing, and failed attempts to access my account, it's finally here. Enjoy :)

ooOOoo

Far away, at the northernmost boundary of Midgard's navigable waters, a massive fleet was anchored. Floating as near to land as the choking ice in the fjord would allow. Centuries later, in the time of Erik the Red, this place would become known as Grœnland. Those eddas had yet to be written though. Currently it was nothing more than a frozen slice of rock, scrub brush, and ice. Unknown to most, and inhabited by none aside from the hardiest of species.

This nameless island was never really what one would call a wonderful place to live, but it was especially dreary in the winter. As the polar night set in, and the sun disappeared completely, temperatures often dropped to the point where the moisture in a man's eyeball could freeze. Those that did not take care to bundle up, or stayed outside too long, would come over with a severe case of snow-drunkenness. Gradually growing weaker until they finally succumbed to Skadi. Many found days later, frozen and half-stripped of their clothing. As if the gods had granted them the gift of insanity to ease them through their final hours.

The natural hot springs, used for bathing in the summer months, were now more than a day's hike away. Often through snow drifts as deep as a man was tall. The harsh environment bringing the soldiers down just as much as the miserable living conditions on board the armoured vessels. The men growing hungrier, filthier, and more restless with each passing day. Only the dragons did not seem to mind. The massive horde of enslaved lizards spending their days lazily hunting, or curled up together around the warm springs. Apparently enjoying this brief period of rest.

Though beautiful in its barren simplicity, the far north was a cold and inhospitable land where the weak dared not tread. Because of this, it was also the perfect place to hide if you did not want to be found. If you could survive it, that is. Currently trapped in the clutches of winter, the ships looked eerily deserted. The crews clearly hunkered down below decks while they all awaited the change of seasons. Living on a bland and repetitive diet of salted fish, hardtack, boiled turnips, and spruce needle tea. Working day and night in the holds instead, just to keep the rations from freezing.

The men did not really know why their leader had chosen this particular place. They could not know that they were hovering on the border between myth and reality, where the monsters could roam freely across realms. Of course, the men were not blind. The half-giants, with their blueish skin and unnatural size and strength, were impossible to miss among the ranks. Most just knew better than to comment or dwell. Such knowledge was not to be shared with the simple soldier, and those who asked too many questions had a way of disappearing.

Stocked with man, beast, and monster, this army was both strong and organized; led by one Drago Bludvist. A ruthless, secretive, and power hungry man with little care for others. He relied on none and kept his plays close to his chest. His hulking and disfigured body and face giving him an appearance that was as formidable as his temper. Leaving men cowering in their boots before him. The fact that he was missing one arm making him no less dangerous. Much like the dragons he controlled, this perceived vulnerability only added to his inherently violent nature.

Very few men were close to him, and even fewer held Drago's confidence. Only the half-Jotuns were truly aware that they were working for forces beyond the mortal realm. Though the occasional appearances of the 'Dark Rider', a man almost more bloodthirsty and ruthless than Drago himself, certainly helped to spur rumours of the like amongst the men. Many of them convinced that he was a real draugr that Drago had summoned through magic, and Drago had seen no reason to dispel these claims. Fear was a great motivator, and the Dark Rider was a man that inspired fear with his mere presence. If the soldiers believed that Drago controlled such a being, then they would be less apt to disobey. They need not know that the Dark Rider was one of the only men that Drago truly feared as well, aside from Loki himself of course.

Despite the rare gifts the gods had granted him, Drago had begun to grow restless as of late. Frustrated by the lack of action and greedy with power, he didn't want to wait to strike. Why should he, when his army was strong enough to start taking Midgard now? After all, as a skilled warrior with an undeniable knack for drawing in followers, he was very nearly a god himself. Why should he sit idly by while his 'masters' dragged their feet? They were immortal and could afford to wait. He was not fool enough to turn against the Trickster and his monstrous kin, of course. He just also refused to turn down an opportunity if one presented itself.

Standing at the prow of the largest vessel, Drago let the icy winds swirl around him. Minuscule crystals of water in the air feeling more like steel blades as they cut into the exposed skin of his face and neck. Too lost in thought to be much bothered with the considerably minor pain. The eerie silence of the surroundings was making him somewhat uneasy. A feeling of which he was ill accustomed to, and did not approve of in the slightest. His typical contacts across the boundary had proven unreachable as of late, and that worried him. Though he was working hard to remedy it, his army was not actually powerful enough to take on the Æsir just yet...

Shaking off the despicable sensation of momentary meekness, Drago pulled his heavy cape of dragon hide closer around his shoulders as he peered off into the swirling storm. Alert for any sign of movement, though the amorphous whiteness made such efforts rather fruitless. The complete emptiness causing him to think longingly of his warm cabin below deck. Or even better, the steamy taverns and sultry whores of the southern lands. Hopefully those survived the coming war, he mused. He and his men were long overdue for a pleasurable holiday.

Unfortunately, the cabin was the best this land had to offer, so it would have to do. After one more glance around, Drago began to make his way back to his quarters. The large half-Jotuns guarding the passage nodding in acknowledgement as he passed. Their bright emerald coloured eyes seeming even more unnaturally green in the flickering light of the nightmare gel torches. Closing the door behind him, Drago heaved a sigh as he rested his staff against the wall. Reaching up to undo the clasps of his cloak now that he was sheltered by wooden walls instead.

"Terrible weather out there," came a cultured voice from close behind him then. "I cannot fathom how you stand it."

Startled by its unexpected nearness, Drago turned abruptly as he took up the staff in his right hand again; holding it up defensively between himself and the intruder. His body leaping to action long before his brain had the chance to assess the situation. "Oh, it's you," he growled when he saw who it was. Grumbling under his breath as he lowered his weapon again and releasing a well concealed sigh of relief. "How did you get past the guards?"

The man before him chuckled quietly as he leant casually against the wall. Arms crossed arrogantly over his chest, and his face hidden by the hood of his long cloak. "Riders do not need to use doors," he drawled in that insolent tone of his. "I came in through the window." At that he tilted his covered head towards the open shutters, beyond which only the flakes of white were visible as they swirled chaotically in front of the shapeless black background.

Drago gritted his teeth as he longed to drive a blade through the arrogant bastard, but unfortunately he needed his assistance. So instead, he squared his broad shoulders as he faced down the newcomer. "It's about time you showed up," he started. "I have been trying to get word to you for weeks, but there was no reply."

"That's probably because Aleixo has been discovered and eliminated by the Allfather, and his father is likely next in line for the proverbial chopping block," the man replied simply. Drago felt his eyes widen at that as the unwelcome surge of unease welled in his gut again. If Aleixo and his father had been caught, would Odin's troops be storming Midgard in search of Drago's army next? He was just about to ask the visitor how this had happened, but the man chuckled again as he pushed off from the wall. "As you can probably guess, the price of services from beyond the boundary is often expensive. You will be contacted by their replacement soon enough I'd wager," he added vaguely. Finally lowering his hood as he spoke.

Everything about this man marked him out as a foreigner; from his accent to his clothes. Even his features did not seem suited to this world. His tightly curling black hair cut short, and his dark beard neatly trimmed to accentuate his handsome face. The angles of which were just a little too sharp, the ears just a little too oblong, to be completely human. The pale scar running from forehead to cheek, bisecting his right eye, being the only thing about his appearance that seemed truly menacing. His scarlet changewing hide tunic and methril bracers looking even brighter against the warm brown of his skin.

"Speaking of which, how is your little project coming along," Krogan asked with a smirk. "Have you at least figured out how to hatch it?"

Trying very hard to ignore Krogan's insolent tone, Drago just glowered at him. "That's why I was trying to contact you," he stated blandly. "It has already hatched. Now I need you to perform the ritual."

"No..."

"What," Drago growled angrily. Cutting across Krogan as he finally lost his temper. "You said that you would. After all our efforts, have you suddenly changed your mind now?" Then he let his lip lift in a slight sneer instead. "Or perhaps you were never actually able to perform the magic in the first place. I could always wait until the Dark Rider shows up and get him to do it for you."

"If you think Scáth Lokison would be willing to help you enslave a dragon through magic, then feel free to ask him instead," Krogan replied flippantly. Making towards the window again as he pulled his hood back up.

Drago grumbled furiously under his breath at that. After all, Krogan had a point. Though Scáth was more than happy to kill any other man or monster that crossed his path, he was uncharacteristically sensitive about the treatment of the dragons. He likely would not be happy to hear of Drago's plans for the Bewilderbeast hatchling. "Wait, stop. You're right, I need you," Drago forced out through his teeth. Hating every moment of having to pander to this man.

"Yes, you do," Krogan returned. Facing Drago again with a wicked smirk on his broad lips. "So you had better start showing me some respect. Now, I will perform the ritual, but not yet. I told you before, a hatchling is of no use to us. Call me again in a couple of years, and I will do it then; providing your attitude has improved," he added cheekily. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to return to Vanaheim before I am missed by anyone important." Then he gave a shrill whistle before leaping out the open window into the storm.

Moving quickly to the window himself now, Drago looked out just in time to watch a massive red singetail swoop by. Krogan now perched atop its back as the biting wind whipped his cloak around him in chaotic ripples. The dragon and Vanir man disappearing into the storm like phantoms. Heading back towards the northern boundary and Jotunheim; a land where Drago could not follow. Not yet, at least...

Grumbling under his breath again, Drago closed the shutters to shut out the worst of the cold now. Vowing to make sure that Krogan received his just rewards once he had served his purpose. Perhaps Drago would tell Scáth that Krogan had been double crossing him. Though they were all on the same side, technically, it would still give Drago great pleasure to watch the Dark Rider dispose of the arrogant fool. Hopefully Scáth didn't decide to dispose of Drago at the same time, but that was a risk that he would just need to take. It wasn't as if he would be able to hide the magic from Scáth anyways. All he would be able to do was try to remain as valuable as possible, and pray that the Dark Rider had a small shred of mercy buried somewhere deep within his wicked black soul...

ooOOoo

Well, I guess we know who the other hooded man is now...

Honestly, who is really all that surprised that it's Krogan. Watch Midnight Scrum again and tell me that man was not destined to be a Rider. In a later episode, they even literally use the phrase, "Krogan and his singetail have some sort of bond!" Not to mention the fact that they never explain where he got his singetail, even though it is the biggest godsdamn singetail that we see throughout the entire series. The HTTYD writers/animators just made it way too easy for me to integrate him into this world of magic. (It was stated very early in the stories that not all the bonded Riders were Order members, or Odin's. Loki has to have some too ;)

What do you think is going to happen. Both with the unnamed ritual, and when Hiccup finds out about it? Should be interesting...