The following day was cloudy, quiet, and, just as Hela predicted, left the home absent of any human presence except for hers. The teenager would love to say that she had slept peacefully, but that would be a lie so bad even Loki would sneer at her,
Hela was rolling around trying to find comfort in her bed for the entire night, finding it difficult to give herself to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes was another nightmare waiting to be seen. First, it was simple, good ol' Night Fury blasting her into tiny little pieces, but afterwards, the dreams evolved into various scenarios of the Night Fury killing her dad or him not coming back. Both these situations ended up her becoming Chief and sending Berk into ruin.
Lovely.
The ones surrounding her dad wasn't new; he's survived through things worse than she can dream of. The ones that left her shaking and sweaty were the dream of the Berkians finding the Night Fury.
Hela didn't want to know why that thought was enough to make her sick.
She shook her head, determined not to let the strange encounter with the dragon plague at her. Gazing out the small window, Hela guessed the time and decided to get ready for the day.
What did one even pack for dragon training? A lunchtime snack? Sword bigger than she is? A pocket-sized healer for when she turned into a lunchtime snack?
Too bad Gothi had such crude bedside manner.
Instead, Hela grabbed her usual clothing. She donned a long-sleeved, light green tunic and a thick pair of brown pants along with a pair of knee-high boots – line with the thickest of sheep wool – and a wide belt on her waist. A sleeveless fur vest and her father's axe strapped to her back finished up the look.
She knows; she's a real fashion-forward thinker.
Walking through the village during a raid was always a strange experience, like walking through a ghost town. The biggest difference being the lack of ghosts. People were busy going about their day fishing, cleaning, childrearing, or fixing the buildings in need of repair; anything to keep the village running until Stoick comes back. Hela only caught glimpses of them as she walked towards the Dragon Arena.
Just yesterday, the thought of going to the Arena would have excited Hela, eager for a chance to prove herself. Now it only filled her with dread and made her drag her feet as she approached it. Maybe it was overdramatic, but Hela couldn't helo but hope for the ground to split open and swallow her whole, or perhaps a dragon attack, literally anything to delay her arrival to what was famously known as a dragon's grave.
As Hela neared the Arena, she noticed that she wasn't the earliest person, nor was she the only nervous one. The entire gang was there, all showing visible signs of discomfort as they waited in the entrance tunnel of the Arena.
The Thorston twins were arguing, not that it was anything new, but there was a shaky tone to their shouted insults. Fishlegs was standing to one side muttering to himself, and Snotlout was chattering Aron's hear off, who, by the way, didn't look the slightest bit impressed. Out of all of them, Aron looked the calmest, his nerves only visible by the fidgeting of his axe.
Hela knew that if it were physically possible, that her heart would beat out of her chest at the sight. For a moment, Hela allowed herself to fantasize, imagining herself walking up to him, starting a conversation, riveting stuff, of course, so interesting that he would fall in love with her.
The familiar sound of a peg leg hitting the ground broke her little fantasy.
Hela groaned as it got nearer. "Shit!"
Please, please just walk past! Please don't be who I think it is.
"Good morning, children."
Hela squeezed her eyes shut, pinching her thigh, hoping that this was just a bad dream. Their dragon trainer couldn't be Gobber. What was her father thinking? Was this an elaborate way to stage their deaths as accidents?
Gobber had many talents; too bad teaching wasn't one of them.
Hela followed behind the rest of the class, careful to stay out of their view as Gobber slid the gate of the Arena open.
"Welcome to Dragon Training!" he cheered with a suspicious amount of excitement in his voice.
"No turning back," Aron said, determinedly walking into the Arena, leading the rest of them in.
The Dragon Arena was an ample circular space built into the mountain ground, the walls being made of rock. It had no roof, only the metal construction resembling a net with spaces too small for any dragon to crawl through. On the far side of the entrance were huge cages built big enough to hold any dragon in them. Hela didn't know what the door of those cages were made of, but she assumed they were pretty sturdy when one considered the dragons they regularly held.
"I hope I get some serious burns," Tuffnut said.
"I'm hoping for some mauling, like on my shoulder or lower back,: Ruffnut replied.
Were these people serious? Who could be so stupid as to want to get hurt?
"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."
Apparently, Aron was. Hela's respect for Aron dipped slightly. If scars were so cool and fun, then why was Hela considered cool and fun? She had more scars than they all did. She may not have gotten them during a dragon attack, but her palms were rough from working in the forge, calloused fingers and scars from multiple accidents such as cutting herself or grabbing things when they were too hot. Her forearms were dotted with scars from the times the fires had licked her skin.
And she knew that she was the only one who had suffered through things bad enough to leave a scar because no one who Gothi has treated would want to see her again.
"Yeah, no kidding," Hela said, slightly awed at the naivety of her peers. "Pain, love it."
Her new acquired classmates turned to look at her in unison, some groaning at the sight of her.
"Oh, great," sneered Tuffnut. "Who let her in?"
"Let's get started," Gobber interjected. "The recruit who does best will win the honour of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village." He mimicked a gutting action with his hook.
Hela would literally be anywhere else rather than here.
Snotlout saw the discomfort on Hela's face.
"Hela already killed a Night Fury," he said, "so does that disqualify her, or..?
The twins snickered behind him, signifying their level of humour to Hela.
"Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?" Tuffnut asked, shoulders still shaking from laughter as the rest of them continued into the Arena.
Hela didn't join, staying behind as she contemplating just leaving the class. Before she could guess whether she would make it or not before someone found her, Gobber wrapped his hand around her shoulders.
"Don't worry," he said, walking her towards the rest. "You're small, and you're weak. That'll make you less of a target! They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead."
Hela rolled her eyes at Gobber's so-called pep talk. Didn't he know that predatory animals went for the weak and insane ones?
At the very least, she thought, falling in line next to Fishlegs, axe wobbling on her shoulder, I'll end up in Valhalla if I die here today.
Gobber walked to the front, facing the teenagers as he continued. "Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight! The Deadly Nadder!" he announced, standing in front of said dragon's cage. He did it each time he approached a new cell.
"Speed: eight; Armor: sixteen," Fishlegs muttered quickly.
"The Hideous Zippleback!"
"Plus eleven stealth times two."
"The Monstrous Nightmare."
"Firepower: fifteen."
"The Terrible Terror!"
"Attack: eight; Venom: twelve!"
"Can you stop that?" Gobber shouted, losing his temper with the blonde boy. Hela couldn't blame him; Fishlegs' muttering wasn't helping anyone with their nerves. "And, finally, the Gronckle!"
Fishlegs leaned down to whisper, "Jaw strength: eight."
Hela shuffled away from him; they were only standing next to each other, which didn't make them friends. Besides, she was too occupied, eyeing the casual way Gobber's hand was leaning on the leaver of the Gronckle cage.
She prepared herself to run.
Snotlout saw it too. "Whoa, whoa, wait!" He stepped forward. "Aren't you gonna teach us first?!"
Hela took a step back as Gobber replied, "I believe in learning on the job." With that, he pressed down on the leaver, releasing the Gronckle.
The students scatter as the rock-like dragon flew straight at them. Hela was the first to run away, grabbing the nearest shield, searching for a place to hide. Participation may be mandatory, an action she was reluctant to take, but she refused to be the first one to be hurt.
"Today is about survival," Gobber continued his teaching nonchalantly from where he stood. "If you get blasted... you're dead! Quick! What's the first thing you're going to need?"
Hela couldn't help but say, "A doctor?!" If not from the dragon's damage, then definitely for the physical harm Gobber's teaching tactics inflict.
"Plus five speed," Fishlegs said frantically.
"A shield!" came Aron's confident answer.
"Shields!" Gobber repeated, sending the teenagers scrambling for obe. Hela was proud to say that she had one ready before Gobber confirmed Aron's answer. Wasn't she clever? "Go! Your most important piece of equipment is your shield! If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield!"
Hela eyed the dragon as it flew around chasing Fishlegs around the Arena. She also spotted the twins fighting over a shield. One twin hit the other on the head as they argued, but Hela didn't care to listen as she moved out of the dragon's sight, joining the other's in their defensive lineup.
The Gronckle, bothered by their sibling squabbling, blasted in their direction.
"Tuffnut, Ruffnut, you're out!" Gobber announced before shouting in their direction. "Those shields are good for another thing: noise! Make lots of it to throw off a dragon's aim!"
Quickly, Hela grabbed her father's axe, her grip shaky as she knocked the axe's metal against the metal of the shield. The others were doing that as well. It seemed to be working as the hovering Gronckle began to shake its head, disoriented.
Gobber continued. "All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?"
"Is this really the time for a pop quiz?" Hela gritted between her teeth, huddling behind a rack of weapons, quite proud of herself to have stayed in so long. She missed Snotlout answers but didn't miss Fishlegs'.
"Six," he shouted excitedly, waving his shield in the air.
"Correct," Gobber affirms. "Six! One for each of you!"
The Gronckle fires towards Fishlegs, hitting the shield right from his hands. It sends him screaming, running away from the dragon.
"Fishlegs out!" Gobber declared. He spotted Hela in her hiding spot. "Hela! Get in there!"
"No, thank you!" Hela shouted in response. Still, she took a few steps away from her secluded spot, only for the Gronkle to aim towards her. She was shuffling back before it even shot at the wall.
Gobber shot her a pointed glare before looking at where Aron and Snotlout were, both standing in defensive positions.
Slowly, she moved toward, keeping her eyes locked on the dragon snarling away in the air. She was close enough to hear Snotlout trying – and failing – to kiss up to Aron.
"So, anyway," he was saying, far too casual for someone being in a lock soace with a dragon, "I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out. You look like you work out!"
Aron flipped away, evident disgust on his face, as the dragon attacked Snotlout, landing gracefully near Hela.
"Snotlout, you're done!"
Hela wasn't paying attention to Gobber, mind far for occupied with how close Aron was to her. "So, I guess it's just you and me?" she said, trying to make conversation.
"Aron shook his head sharply. 'Nope, just you." He ran away.
The Gronckle saw weakness and shot magma towards Hela, hitting the shield right from her arm. The axe dropped to the ground.
"One shot left! Hela!"
Panicked, Hela turned and ran, heavily aware of the dragon chasing her.
She reached the wall. There was nowhere to go. The shield was gone. Her axe nowhere within reach. She had no choice but to face this dragon head first, back literally against the wall.
The Gronckle opened its massive mouth, teeth dangerously close to Hela face. Its breath smelled like fish. Her mind jerked at the familiarity of it all.
Oh, gods. She was going to die.
Gobber's hook came insight, grabbing the dragon by its jaw. She didn't have time to question how before he wrestled the beast away, causing it to misfire just in time.
"And that's six," he said, wrangling the dragon back to its cage. "Go back to bed, your overgrown sausage. You'll get another chance, don't you worry." He finally managed to get the dragon inside and closed it in its cage.
Gobber turned toward Hela, who was still panting from fear on the ground. She didn't take the chance of standing up only to fall down, embarrassing herself in front of her classmates.
"Remember," her mentor said, "a dragon will always – always – go for the kill."
#
Gobber's words lingered in Hela's mind. Like an angry ghost with a grudge, the words would invade her thoughts, echoing loud enough to deafen the world around her. If anyone asked her what happened after her altercation, then she wouldn't be able to answer. Everything was a blur, from the class dismissal to the trek through the village. Hela only came out of her daze when the wooden buildings from the town gave way to the stumps of the forest trees.
She found herself in that small clearing where the Night Fury had been grounded, relieved to see it was gone; however, she was somewhat sad to see no proof of it ever being here. The cut ropes were still there, lying innocently on the ground. Crouching down, she pulled the cut bola, playing with the weighted rocks in her hands.
A dragon will always go for the kill.
"So why didn't you?" she whispered to the rope in her hands. It was a question Hela was determined to find an answer to.
Hela stood up, walking in the direction she had seen the black dragon fly off to. Hope built up in her chest as she saw the path of destruction it had left behind. Broken tree branches and footprints of flattened grass showed her to a large rock wall with a small opening between them. Cautiously, she climbed through it and gasped at what she found.
It was a secluded cove with large rock formations hiding it from sight. Hela didn't even know it was there. The sun seemed to shine just for this area as it lightened the green grass, showing the trees surrounding the cove's roots growing downwards over the walls and the large lake in the centre of it.
Hela sighed as she gazed upon it, finding no spot of black amongst the green.
"This was stupid," she said softly, turning away. Looking down on the ground near her, she saw black dots and hurried towards them. Carefully she picked it up, noticing the soft but scaly texture of it.
She hummed. "I didn't know Night Fury's shed."
Did all dragons shed?
A shadow moved over the opening, growling, startling Hela backwards and sending her falling. It moved again, and Hela moved quickly to follow it.
Kneeling by the end of the opening, Hela saw the Night Fury; its wings flared up as it landed on the furthest side of the cove. Its growl sounded distressed.
She patted down her vest, grasping at her charcoal and notebook, opening to the first clear page as he kept her eyes on the dragon. Its wings flared up once again as it jumped into the air. It didn't last long as the dragon floated in the air and right into the cove's wall, landing right beneath Hela.
With practised movements, Hela began to draw the Night Fury. The dragon tried climbing the rocks, but Hela didn't let its frantic movements deter her as her sketch begun to take form. First, the head, the neck and torso, the wings spanned over two pages and then finished with the tail. It wasn't her best work, but Hela couldn't help but be proudest of it.
She watched the dragon, something about its movements was off.
"Why don't you just fly away?"
The dragon finally gave up on climbing out of the cove and shot a plasma blast towards the ground. The sound was strange, high-pitched, familiar and different from the other dragons.
That's when she saw it. The dragon was missing a fin on its tail. Hela smudged out that piece of her drawing.
Something caught the Night Fury's eyes in the water, and he stalked towards the lake, its way of moving, oddly feline. Bewitched, Hela could do nothing but stare as the dragon strikes his head into the water. She assumed it was hunting.
In her wonder, Hela's entire body went slack, the hand holding her charcoal included. It fell, hitting the rocks loudly, too quick for Hela to grab it, before settling on the ground.
Hela knew that she had disturbed the dragon before she even looked up, but she still couldn't hide her surprise as she made eye contact with the Night Fury.
Hela couldn't explain what it was that made her stay or why she didn't feel afraid. There were no words to describe what looking into this dragon's eyes was like and how different it was. It could've been how this dragon's green eyes seemed to reflect her own or how its body tensed up when it saw her, but Hela knew at that moment that she would do anything to keep anyone from harming this dragon.
And later that night, after reading the dragon manual, she cried while tracing the smudged part of her drawing, feeling ashamed about hurting the Night Fury and determined to fix her mistake.
#
AdamantJackal: Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you liked my perspective of Stoick. A lot of fanfictions are determined to make him seem like some sort of abusive father who went out of his way to torment Hiccup – something I just cannot see him be. DOB, ROB, Race to the Edge make it quite clear that while Soick has communication issues due to his stubbornness, he loves his son, in this case, daughter. I see him as less of a bad parent and more as a dad trying to connect to his teenage daughter while keeping his village afloat.