Thanks for joining me y'all, and thank you VigoGrimborne for betaing! Also, special thanks to anyone who shares their thoughts, whether good or bad.
Dragonrider's Fury, thanks for dropping a line! Yeah, poor Ragnar. My beta found his nickname of Twitchy to be very appropriate. Don't get your hopes up for Henry – aka Singer – stealing the spotlight, but he'll show up again.
Deadly-Bagel, oh gods, your line about Hiccup's ideal to confront an enemy by screeching in on his Night Fury, giving a rousing speech, and everyone spontaneously erupting into flower petals… That's just… Hee hee heeeeeeee *GASP*. Also, hmm, maybe I should read the HTTTYD books and see how dragons tried to conquer the world. Oh, and ya know how last chapter jerked you away from a cliffhanger? Well, this chapter… All I can say is I'm sorry. :P
Confronted
Toothless didn't even look behind him as the massive stone door slammed. He could hear the telltale CLACK CLACK CLACK of the latching mechanism driving a large wooden beam through heavy iron rings. He was trapped inside until someone let him out.
It was a prison for dragons, first carved out long ago when dragons were forced to raid for food to feed the massive bulk of a mind-controlling demonic queen. After that, when there was peace between dragons and land-striders on this island, it served a similar purpose, but only on rare occasions, for short periods, to contain and deal with those who felt that they were above the consequences and expectations placed on all. Dragons were no more virtuous than land-striders, and whenever an individual had a hard time exercising discipline in not snatching food that was not his or swiping at land-striders out of boredom, regardless of status, a few days in here suddenly made it very easy to decide to either fly off or playing nice.
The offenses were usually minor, but there was one particularly bad incident, back in those early days after the dragon war ended. One land-strider hated dragons more than the rest, and he was always setting buildings on fire and planting false evidence to try to incriminate the dragons and encourage all land-striders to despise all dragons. He was eventually caught, his many ill deeds laid bare. Faced with exile, he managed to break free and provoke a particularly temperamental dragon into a rage. The dragon killed the land-strider, and they all knew that it would cause unprecedented trouble, even worse than all the trouble this hateful land-strider stirred up.
Dragons and land-striders alike wanted to coexist in peace. They benefited each other and were driven to maintain the delicate balance required. The dragons realized that a precedence needed to be set to assure the land-striders that this was not something the dragons would tolerate.
The offending dragon barely managed to spread his wings before he had five fanged maws crunching down on his neck. The land-strider alpha of that time, a massive and pragmatic specimen, was so moved by such a demonstration that he declared that anyone else who followed in the steps of this dragon-hating land-strider would find a similar fate, not by dragons, but by his own kind.
And, so, peace reigned quite effectively. Complaints were brought up and handled, dragons enforcing expectations among their kind just as land-striders did among theirs, but things never got that bad again.
Toothless jumped as the silence was shattered by a loud grinding from above.
Another stone door started to open in front of him, this one less substantial as it was internal to this stone prison, slowly lifted by chains on a large winch. It was one of five, and aside from this and the one behind him, all the other interior doors were already lifted so that the occupant could run around the looping tunnel.
He pressed his chin to the ground, eyeing what was beyond the low gap in the darkness. The interior was plenty light for him with small rays of the fading sunlight stabbing in from above. The chin of a white head was pressed to the ground on the far side, very similar to his aside from the color. The gap widened to reveal sharp claws, strong legs, and a shapely torso.
They stared at each other in unblinking silence as the door raised and locked into place, gazing deep into each other's–
She sprang without warning. Toothless ducked and tumbled, rolling instantly to all fours to lunge at her. They crashed and grappled at each other, biting at each other's necks, snarling and growling–
They both suddenly stilled for a moment, then rushed forward, sniffing, rubbing, needily digging under each other's hind legs with their nose.
They went still again, facing each other, front low to the ground.
She leaped forward. Toothless turned and sprinted away with hot pursuit, barking gleefully.
All this was seen by Hiccup. Not seen only, but heard, smelled, tasted, felt, everything that defined the existence of Toothless was experienced by his rider, projected in a continuous stream from the dragon, received by the Terrible Terror named Dart who was perched on Hiccup's shoulder, and relayed to him.
He would be there himself if it wasn't for the fact that Frost wanted to kill him at the first opportunity. Well, she didn't really want to, he could tell that she was developing some respect and appreciation for him, much more than he could have dared to hope from a dragon who spent her life being hunted and used by humans.
She had been stung and injected with a powerful mind-altering venom, though, her mind temporarily turned to soft clay to receive the instruction to kill Hiccup, then blasted with fire to make it so hard that it would crack before accepting any other alteration.
Hiccup's presence in the village was stressful enough to her, conditioned response at war against her genuine thoughts, and it would have sent her into hysterics if he was outside of her cell, easily smelled and heard.
He opened his eyes to take in the bright sun over the bay. Grass stained his fingernails as he clawed them against the ground. He reached a hand up, and the Terror sniffed at the green-tinted fingers before leaning into a rub on his snout.
"Thanks, Dart," Hiccup said. "Toothless, you treat her gently. She has eggs." It was three weeks ago that they mated, and Frost's midsection did look a little puffed-up. She would be due to lay any day.
Through Dart, over the distance, in a way that Hiccup tried a thousand times with no success to describe in words, he heard Toothless' snide response. {I make no promises.}
Hiccup could see that Toothless was sprawled on his back, whining softly and gnawing on Frost's front leg as she gnawed on his neck. They writhed around, biting harder and harder until one of them snapped, which led to another bout of running and wrestling, which ended with Toothless grappling playfully with Frost, gnawing on her scales, nose-to-tail–
"Gah!" Hiccup shouted as he pulled his hand away. "I think that's enough for me." Dart squeaked in amusement. Privacy and decency were foreign concepts to dragons. "More than enough, in fact."
It was good to see that Toothless and Frost were getting along so well. Hiccup had made it clear several times that he would not object to Toothless flying off with her to raise their young. Losing Toothless would hurt so much, but giving him up would hurt in a way that simply felt right. Toothless refused, but Frost would be forced to kill Hiccup the moment she was set free, and Hiccup refused to keep her penned up for much longer, especially since she would be laying eggs soon–
It was all a big, stinking, gods-damned mess!
It was at the same time of day, on this very bluff, when everything started to fall apart, ironically when everyone felt like they were finally on top of this situation. The enemy armada was approaching, the plan was laid out, and a backup plan, and responses to things that could go awry, and responses to the enemy's responses.
Hiccup had resigned himself to the reality that this day would not end with peace until one side was thoroughly beaten or eliminated. The enemy made it abundantly clear, during their first encounter four days prior, that there would be no negotiations, no compromises, only death. Still, he had actually felt relief that Toothless had been gone all day; it meant that he didn't have to participate in the last flight out to drop rocks onto the fleet from high above.
It was dusk, and the wind had picked up as dark storm clouds rolled in. The surprise attack was set to be deployed soon. Toothless was nowhere to be found, no doubt out flying with Frost again. His newly-restored tailfin was still developing, but it was large and strong enough to fly well enough. He knew the plan, and that his presence would be a great help. Still, he was his own dragon, and if he missed the action, Firebrand and Vicious could fill the void.
Hiccup almost jumped out of his skin when Tofa silently approached and loudly shouted over the wind, "What are you doing here, Firefly? He needs you! Now!"
At his befuddled look, she shouted, "Stormfly!" and put fingers in her mouth to whistle loud. The dragon arrived promptly, without a saddle, but with Astrid riding bareback.
"What's up? Is Toothless gonna make it?" Astrid asked as she hastily dismounted.
"Not you!" Tofa stomped her foot. "You should be in the Great Hall preparing the defenses." She turned to Stormfly. "Toothless needs Firefly. Firefly needs you!"
Stormfly chirped and offered her back. Astrid gave a curt nod. "Take good care of her, and happy hunting." She pecked a kiss on Hiccup's cheek and Stormfly's snout.
Just like that, he was off, Stormfly sniffing out their target. The sun set, the sky went black. An ominous feeling crept over Hiccup, and it wasn't because of the storm clouds rolling in, but he shook it off. Toothless was fine.
Toothless was not fine.
Even before they reached the tall sea stack that Toothless was on, he was projecting out to them. With Stormfly acting as a relay, Hiccup saw flashes of imagery, Toothless flying with Frost, landing on this sea stack. It was with a mournful look in Frost's eyes that she stepped on a concealed pressure plate, and Toothless felt something sting his shoulder. He looked back at the dart sticking into him, then at Frost, dart, Frost. A trap, betrayal! He snarled and lunged at her, teeth bared to tear her throat out.
He woke up in chains, surrounded by a strange human and dragons, and he suspected that the human was a dragon whisperer. "Now we wait until your friend arrives," the human said.
That was all Toothless knew of the situation, save that he wanted his rider to flee and to not return unless he had a few hundred dragons at his back.
Hiccup, however, was stubborn.
They alighted on the edge of the sea stack. It wasn't large at all, and in the center stood the tall, hooded man and several dragons with sword-like claws and sharp spines jutting out at every angle and a stinger on their tail. Hiccup did a quick count, there were fifteen dragons that he could see.
Stormfly shuffled nervously.
"Ah, so glad you came!" the man cheerfully called out. "You must be Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. I've heard so much about you!"
"What do you want?" Hiccup angrily demanded. Toothless was in chains at the man's side, struggling in vain! The Light Fury was laid at his feet, unrestrained but unmoving, a vacant look in her eyes.
"Oh, what's wrong with a little chit-chat?" he asked innocently, speaking with distinction and a measured tempo, as if he was a scribe or some man of high education.
Hiccup groaned in frustration. Why do crazy madmen always need to give a long speech when they confront me? And why can't they just come to my home and reveal their sinister plans where I have a thousand dragons to help me out?
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Grimmel the Grisly. And these," he gestured to the dragons around him, "are my allies. Unlike you, we stand for peace."
"I think things were a lot more peaceful before you put my best friend in chains!" Hiccup bit out. "We have peace. We welcome visitors on Berk, so feel free to stop by sometime."
Grimmel scoffed. "Peace that must be purchased with blood is but an illusion. War is in your blood! It's on your very doorstep! You may survive, bloodied but victorious, but do you think you will not find yourself in conflict again? And again?"
"You mean your armada that's waging war on us without any provocation?" Hiccup cut in.
Grimmel waved him off dismissively. "I'll take it as a compliment that you think I could launch hundreds of ships, but it proves my point as this is far from the first time you've forced your neighbors to fear and attack you, my dear Hiccup. The Red Death, Drago, Dagur, so many others who did not want to accept your vision of how the world should be. On Berk, humans and dragons are always stepping on each other's toes and tails, creating conflicts, trying to edge each other out to claim their piece of the pie. The more you compromise, the smaller each slice becomes."
"It's not perfect," Hiccup admitted, hoping he could negotiate his way to Toothless. Maybe he could reason with this crazy guy. "We make it work. Dragons can fly off if they don't want to be around us, and some have. Humans can sail off to islands where people live without dragons, and some have."
"But there will always be contention," Grimmel insisted, that annoying wide grin plastered on his thin face. "Dragon riders against the dragon haters, the haves against the have-nots. I have found a way to have true peace between humans and dragons, and I have come to offer you a chance to become part of the answer instead of the cause of the problem."
"And what does your world of peace look like?" Hiccup asked skeptically.
"Separation!" Grimmel exclaimed, hands outstretched. "A safe place for humans, and a safe place for dragons. Humans love to live in wide, open areas, and dragons love the craggy mountains we avoid. No tails to step on but their own, no toes to step on but our own."
Hiccup frowned at that. "Let me guess, we're a problem in your eyes because we remind the world that there is another way?"
"It cannot last!" Grimmel insisted. "It's for your own good to amend the situation peacefully rather than allow the fire to grow until it all explodes in your face."
"Sounds like an ultimatum to me. Obey or else," Hiccup said. "You're not asking me to let Toothless go, but you intend to take him by force, to force all dragons to conform to your vision through coercion."
Grimmel frowned. "That is a talent humans have, some in particular, to twist any idea to fit their own mold."
Pot, meet kettle, Hiccup thought to himself.
Through Stormfly, Hiccup could hear Toothless. {It is not Firefly alone who doubts you so much. Land-striders use shackles and threats–} he flexed a leg to the very limited degree allowed in demonstrations, causing the chains to rattle, {on other dragons to try to sell them as prizes or try to train them as pets, or on other land-striders to use them as thralls.}
Grimmel apparently heard this, his hand resting on the neck of one of those strange dragons, as he turned toward Toothless with a frown. "Do the Hooligans not restrain riders and dragons alike? Those who refuse to behave?"
Toothless didn't even need an instant to respond. {Of course, but that is to enforce the established will of the flock. You intend to force the will of a few upon many. You try to disguise your conquest mission as elevating others, a wolf in sheep's wool, but when you speak, we see your fangs.}
"Enough!" Grimmel snapped. "I am done trying to reason with you, Night Fury." He turned to Hiccup. "I was hoping you would see reason. Humans and dragons alike need leaders who know better, who know what's best for them. People can get their minds stuck in a rut, and it's a mercy to pull them out, even if they're kicking and screaming."
Hiccup looked over at one of the strange dragons. Stormfly could tell that it was a male. He was lean but strong, thick scales, and a body that looked like it would appear menacing no matter what posture he was in.
"What about you?" Hiccup asked the dragon. He knew that they could understand what he was naturally projecting when he spoke, and even if they weren't used to that, Stormfly could act as a translator. "What are your thoughts about this?
Nothing. There was no response at all except to continue to stare menacingly at Hiccup.
"They're not that talkative," Grimmel patiently explained. He suddenly chuckled. "In that way, I suppose we compliment each other, for I cannot help but introduce them with a story from my land. There once was a king named Midas, which means "Golden Touch" when translated to Norse. He was granted a blessing, that everything he touched turned into gold. He was enamored with his power, until he touched his daughter. She turned to gold, and his gift became a curse. He could only look on those he loved from a distance, for touching them would kill them."
"I pity him," Hiccup said flatly. "I suppose the take-home is to be careful what you ask for?"
Grimmel shook his head. "That too, but you are King Midas. You see only gleaming gold in what you've done, and though the transition has not finished yet, all that you've touched will turn to death. If you care about the dragons, you will contend yourself with watching from afar so you don't taint them with your touch."
He looked at the Deathgripper standing next to him, a female, and smiled. "You see, my allies have a curse, you might say, that everything they touch turns to death. However, this curse can be a blessing when used properly, to bless humans and dragons alike, to bless our future. Can you guess what name I came up with for them?"
Hiccup scratched his head, still trying to figure out what game Grimmel was playing. "Uhh, Sword Claws?"
"No…" Grimmel said in a lilting voice. "Things they touch turn to death. Death… Touch, or another word for that…?
"Killer Huggers?" Hiccup guessed. "Sting Tails?"
Grimmel looked up and slumped in annoyance. "Ugh, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this."
"Sorry," Hiccup said, losing his patience. "I'm not that good at these sorts of games," he gestured to Toothless, "with such a distraction."
A thought suddenly came to him. These dragons must have been uniquely useful to Grimmel. Monstrous Nightmares were stronger fliers, Nadders were faster, Timberjacks could fly enormous distances without rest, Gronckles were tough and could carry a heavy load for a long duration.
These strange dragons didn't look especially capable in the air, and with sword-like claws as their front feet, movement on the ground would be downright awkward. They had large, sharp spines behind the head, tapering all the way down the length of the tail, so they would not be easy to ambush. Aside from that, their most distinctive feature was the stinger at the tip of the tail with some small bulge behind it – no doubt the venom sack.
Grimmel already had a way to disable dragons, even from a distance, even with some mechanism triggered by Frost stepping on a pressure plate, so that could not be what the stingers on these dragons contributed. A venom that did something besides incapacitate…
"Mind killers?"
Grimmel's breath caught for hardly an instant before he regained his haughty composure.
"They're Deathgrippers!" he impatiently snapped. "Things they grip turn to death. Makes sense, right?"
He looked at the Deathgrippers. "Really, guys, you can talk to me about this. If Grimmel has people holding your eggs or hatchlings hostage, we can help."
Grimmel rolled his eyes. "Believe what you choose, but I do not control them. They choose to work with me towards this goal. They too want to be at peace with the rest of the world–"
"By being uncontested alphas over all dragons," Hiccup surmised, looking at the nearest Deathgripper, "miniature Red Deaths in your own right." He looked at Grimmel. "And we would be vassals to King Grimmel, or if not then to someone who is loyal to you. I'm assuming you're not counting on anyone choosing to accept this lifestyle?"
Grimmel sighed. "I tried, but you are as stubborn as your reputation paints you. You leave me with no other choice but to make an example to the riders up here, and to the rest of the world."
"Or you could just leave us alone?" Hiccup offered. "Create your own utopia with those who want it, and I'm sure we couldn't help but be inspired by how perfect it is."
Grimmel slowly shook his head. "That is not how you change the world. It must be all or nothing to work." With a sigh, he turned to the Deathgripper that was standing next to him. "Let's get on with the show."
Hiccup felt the air leave his lungs as the Deathgripper flicked her tail through the air–
"No!" he shouted as he rushed forward.
The stinger was thrust into Toothless' neck. The other DeathGrippers advanced, forming a barrier between him and Hiccup, who could only stare fretfully at Toothless. Was the plan all along to force him to watch his best friend die?!
"But not all death is physical, you see," Grimmel casually said as he unlocked the shackles that were binding Toothless. "Adam and Eve did surely die, though not physically. The Toothless you knew is now dead."
Toothless stood there, motionless, unbound, staring passively at Grimmel.
"Tooth–" Hiccup started to shout, but the Deathgrippers stepped forward and clattered their long claws menacingly, as clear a message as ever. Stormfly cawed plaintively, shifting her weight from talon to talon in fear.
Inspiration struck. Hiccup had no certainty, but he decided to act on it anyway. "Fly home," he quickly whispered to her. "Go take care of Astrid."
Stormfly reared back as if struck. Hiccup held her stare. "Trust me," he pleaded.
Whimpering and shaking, Stormfly flicked a lick to his cheek and hastily took off, cawing in distress all the way.
"Well, that was amusing," Grimmel dryly said. He turned to the Night Fury. "Toothless, Night Fury, hear my command and obey. You will–"
"Don't–" Hiccup started to shout out, but the Deathgrippers advanced on him, leaving him teetering on the edge of the sea stack. He looked down at the crashing waves far below. It was maddening to think of all the directions this could go.
"Ignore that," Grimmel said in annoyance. He smiled at Toothless.
Hiccup couldn't stand it anymore. He had to assume that Grimmel was in control, that he was somehow a Red Death to Toothless, giving him commands that he could not refuse. It only made sense that the command would be something he would never do willingly, something that would be torture to know he was forced to do. The Red Death tried to command Toothless to kill Hiccup, Drago made his Bewilderbeast command Toothless to kill Hiccup, Grimmel…
"Now, Toothless," Grimmel began grandiosely.
No, Hiccup realized, Grimmel would do so much worse that just kill him here and now, or he would have done that already. If this venom really did give him command over Toothless, as with the Light Fury, then he could command Toothless to grab Hiccup, take him to Berk, and kill him in front of everyone. Night Furies were natural alphas, and he probably had enough sway to command all the dragons to fly off with him. If Toothless didn't suspect that Frost was being controlled, how could other dragons possibly know any better? Then, Grimmel could swoop down to a disheartened and bewildered tribe to deliver his ultimatum to pledge fealty or suffer the same fate.
That had to have been how the enemy fleet managed to capture so many dragons from the Bewilderbeast's flock so quickly and without causing any disruption in the area. Just as Frost led Toothless into Grimmel's hands, the Deathgrippers brainwashed a few, which were commanded to convince some more to come along into a trap, and they could all convince even more dragons to come along. When the armada arrived to capture the dragons, it would have been the easiest thing. The controlled dragons would have simply lured or driven the others into cages before flying themselves in.
"You will grab Hiccup,"
And Grimmel could have asked those dragons any question and received the best answers they could give. He could learn anything Toothless knew, like the best way to draw out Astrid into a vulnerable position, and Valka, and the kids…
"And then you will–"
Hiccup saw only one solution, a hair-brained idea that he did not have the luxury of time to think about. He had to act, and a single instant of doubt would throw away his only opportunity. If he failed, he would watch as Grimmel used Toothless, and by extension all the dragons, to force everyone under his thumb far more effectively than Drago Bludvist's ham-fisted approach.
In one way or another, in a single moment, it would be over, for better or for worse.
He quickly shouted, "Toothless, catch me!" as he jumped.
Backward.
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Astrid pushed hard against one of the large, heavy doors of the Great Hall, digging in low and grunting with the effort, turned sideways to avoid disturbing Jorunn who was resting in a sling over her chest. It felt good to shove something around, to exert herself in some task.
The loud groaning of the other door opening drew her attention behind her where Spitelout was helping her out.
"Thanks," Astrid grunted. She flicked her elbow against a wooden wedge that was hanging on the door by a nail, and it clattered to the ground where she kicked it under the door to stop it. Turning inside the great hall, she shouted, "We got a beautiful sunset, everyone. Come out and enjoy it. That's an order!"
Everyone chuckled at that, and many people got up to mill around the doorway, some still gnawing on bread or slurping from bowls in their hands, continuing their conversations without missing a beat.
Astrid walked down a few of the many wide steps that were carved from the ground and sat as she pecked a kiss on the forehead of her child, eyes on the setting sun and the pink clouds. She didn't even look when a large figure sat down next to her with a heavy breath.
"I think it's safe to say, she's outlasted Alfdis," Spitelout said from beside her as he stared out ahead.
Astrid nodded slowly. She was three years old when her eldest sister died, back when dragons were forced to raid Berk. Things were fuzzy then, but Astrid knew that it killed her inside to learn of her sister's fate. Her mother and father spent a single day in mourning, and when dawn came, it was back to business as usual. They were strong in mind and body, not just for their own sake or their tribe's, but to show their surviving children, by word and deed.
Life is often unfair, sometimes downright brutal, but one is never defeated until they refuse to get back up.
Over the years, Astrid watched her father and her siblings die in raids from both dragons and Vikings, one by one. She mourned their deaths and then went back to doing what she could for her people, training until her palms bled, resolved to kill a hundred dragons for every person she loved that they killed. She never let herself question whether it was luck, strength, or discipline that kept her alive while those around her died. What mattered was that she could act, and that she did act.
When she followed the desperate advice of a crazy boy to save their tribe by freeing the caged dragons and even riding them, she knew she found a kindred spirit. Even before anyone learned to hear dragons, it was clear that Stormfly felt the same way. They had developed a special bond, an ever-strengthening respect and trust for each other, two warriors, strong in mind and body, as much of one mind as her left and right hands. Though it was chance that brought them together, nothing could drive them apart.
When the enemy from the mainland attacked, Berk was prepared. Several neighboring tribes offered what able bodies they could fly in on dragon back, recognizing that the threat bearing down on Berk would not stop there. Fortifications had been erected for the inevitable ships that managed to plow through the battle at sea to land. A plan was laid out for a series of tactical retreats to lure the enemy towards the top of the Great Hall steps, with the dragons being preoccupied out at sea, infinitely more productive in limiting how many ships could make it to land in the first place. With the high ground advantage and lots of nasty surprises to rain down on the enemy, the real battle on Berk would be fought and promptly ended there.
The children, hatchlings, eggs, and infirm were safe in a deep tunnel beside the Great Hall. Such a place wouldn't be a strategic target even if it wasn't already a secret that nobody outside of the Hairy Hooligan tribe knew about, and such secrecy would keep them safe even more so than the stone walls.
It was so cringingly obvious, in retrospect, that Astrid should have heeded Tord's advice when he said, "I'd sooner trust to the devil and blind chance than to secrecy, any day."
It wasn't until the Hooligans were halfway up the many steps to the Great Hall when they realized that their pursuers had changed direction. Realization dawned in an instant, and Astrid called for everyone to chase after them. The battle was fierce and far less one-sided than if it went according to plan. Stormfly, who had just arrived from her mission with Hiccup, flew overhead, flanked by a few dragons she nabbed from the fight out at sea, laying down a river of fire before landing to engage in the melee combat. It was a boost to the defensive efforts that the Hooligans desperately needed.
Astrid couldn't have been any more proud of Stormfly's strategic initiative.
When a sword bit into the bottom of Stormfly's neck, even though she was choking on her own blood, she still managed to avenge herself, driven by frenzy and pure determination to take down with her as many as possible. When an ax was driven through her back… The few survivors who had the brains to flee back to their ships – and actually made it there – would bring back tales of a fiery jotunn of vengeance cleaving through fools and laughing loudly and maniacally at their suffering that was less than they deserved. Astrid had no idea what kept her alive in that battle; it wasn't caution, that was for sure.
Stormfly was already dead when Astrid got to her. The dragon didn't even get to say goodbye, either to her rider or her hatchlings. When the dust settled and the incapacitated enemies were put down by Astrid and other angry riders, the death count among the Hooligans… could have been worse. One of the five Night Fury adolescents had run in to join the fighting and protect the others, despite orders given to him by his parents, before the battle began, to stay safe and avoid confrontation. He was not accustomed to pushing through the pain of being stabbed by a sword, but it was a valiant effort before he curled up and died.
It was a disservice to the entire world to have let those vile cowards retreat back home. Just the thought that such monsters would raise their own children–
A heavy hand slapped Astrid's shoulder, jerking her attention back to Spitelout, back to the present. She didn't look at him but at her white knuckles and bleeding palms where her fingernails had dug in.
"Sorry," the man said, "I didn't realize I was rubbing salt into the wound. Didn't know it was still that fresh."
Astrid forced a smile on her face. "I didn't realize it, either." She pulled her eyes away from the crimson sky to look at Spitelout. "Did it hurt this much–"
She forced herself to stop, such a heartless and selfish question to ask. Though she hadn't even hit puberty at the time, she clearly remembered how much it clawed at Spitelout to see his wife die while fighting off a raid. It was no wonder that the older generation was so reluctant to entertain the idea of peace with dragons, that a deep look at the fiery maw of the Red Death was a necessary prerequisite to even consider that dragons might not all be evil devils.
"Yes, I suppose so," Spitelout said, mercifully filling the awkward silence. "Bucksnort was a wild woman who could drink me under the table, before and after wrestling me to the ground in a howling fit. It took me a while to finally move on in my heart." He snorted. "Maybe I haven't really, not truly."
"Sorry," Astrid quietly said.
"Bah!" Spitelout slapped a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry fer what? Who are you, Hiccup? That man could watch me stub my toe on a step and think that it was somehow his fault!"
Astrid broke down laughing, pounding the stone step with her fist. "And speaking of the devil, I don't like the way he's pacing down there." When he had returned not long ago from his long trip and insisted on sneaking in a quick hug for his wife and his kids before sliding back into his chiefing duties, Astrid told him that things were taken care of until tomorrow morning. "He's supposed to be relaxing and unwinding, not digging a furrow in the grass and tormenting himself with the would-have could-haves. And you just know what he's tormenting himself about."
"Well, what are ya waitin' for?" Spitelout asked. "Go knock some sense into him. Valka was right, the man thinks with his heart, not his head."
He was right, on all points. Before she even stood up, a Nadder dropped down at her side and offered his back with a flick of his head. He was from Stormfly's first clutch, six years old, coming up on seven, aptly named for the intriguing patterns on his colorful scales.
Astrid wanted to run, though, to burn off her feelings, but such would not be wise while holding a child. She could find Valka and foist Jorunn onto her, or maybe even Spitelout… No, that wouldn't be nice, not now.
She sighed and rubbed her temple against the dragon's. "Yeah, you're right, Surf. Thanks for the lift." This wouldn't be the Nadder's first time carrying her.
Spitelout gave a heavy pat to the dragon's thigh and smiled up at her. "You look good on his back, if you don't mind me saying." Surf trilled and ruffled his wings at that.
Astrid swallowed. "He wasn't the first to ask, or the last. I told him it's nothing personal, just…"
Spitelout nodded in understanding. "We all carry our burdens until we let them go. I still carry mine."
"Yes…" Astrid said listlessly. There was a widow around Spitelout's age, and the two seemed to get along very well… for the past decade. They were too old for children, but many people commented on the obvious next step they should take and never have.
Inspiration struck – or maybe it was rash stupidity. Astrid suddenly bit the finger of her glove to yank it off and throw it straight down to the ground, issuing a challenge.
"Ha!" Spitelout guffawed as he reached down to pick it up and thoughtfully slapped it against his hand. "Fine." He handed it back to her, picking up the challenge. If Astrid managed to accept another dragon…
"I'll let you make the first move, but I can't make her say yes," he finally said.
Astrid put her glove back on. "I'll hold you to it, but it wouldn't be wise to wait for me."
Spitelout smiled at that. "We all do stupid things, sometimes."
Astrid looked out at Hiccup. "Yes, yes we do."