Author's Note: A new chapter, and an updated thumbnail for this story! Been waiting a long time to put up the true form of that thumbnail, though it's a minor change. Read into it what you will, but in all honesty, I just thought that it was one of the most visually distinctive changes that occur during this story, and was also one that was within my power to easily draw (or in this case add to an existing drawing of mine).
Heather didn't know what to think of herself. Here she was, landing on the same island as Dagur, the person responsible for her family's demise, and she was planning to not so much as raise a finger in his direction. She felt like a coward. A miserable, sneaky coward who couldn't look her enemy in the face unless she had a knife behind his back.
Or a pragmatic, level-headed person who didn't want to hurt any of the people who cared about her by attacking here and dying as a result. She had Toothless to thank for that interpretation of her own actions. She also had him to blame for feeling conflicted at all, so the two canceled each other out.
But conflicted was better than dead, right? She believed so, which was why she was walking with Maour and the others to the Viking in reflective armor, not seeking out Dagur's camp and having Einfari immolate it. With her luck, Dagur would be out at the time, or able to get away, or fireproof.
And if she did that, both she and Einfari would end up dead. Not acceptable. Heather had never been willing to sacrifice others for her cause. Only herself. Now, thanks to Toothless, she understood that sacrificing herself also sacrificed the happiness of others, so she couldn't even let herself do that. This was all his fault.
"This is a sight I will not soon be used to," the Order-Keeper announced as they approached, Maour and Toothless in front of Heather and her companions. "You wish to add them to the peace of this place?"
"Yes, and quickly, before any of the other Vikings here take a stab at them. Literally." Maour stepped aside and gestured for Heather to come forward.
"I only need their blood to seal them into the same peace you agreed to, assuming they are from the same place." The Order-keeper held out a knife, drawn from somewhere under his armor.
Blood. Maour had told them of this. Heather was impressed Nóttreiði hadn't freaked out or even complained when Maour had told them earlier this morning before the sun had even begun to rise over the horizon. He was obviously sticking to the 'fake turning over a new leaf' plan with all of the stubbornness he had held to open defiance previously. At least now it was to everyone's benefit.
Of course, new leaf or not, Nóttreiði had flat-out refused to let any human cut Einfari for any reason. They had a way around that, one that involved her going first.
"I'd like to hear exactly what I'm agreeing to," she requested, taking the plain, fairly-new knife the Order-keeper offered her. "I know the general idea, I want specifics."
"To physically attack another on this island, for whatever reason, is punishable by being sent to meet the gods immediately," the Order-keeper intoned. "No violence of any kind on this island, against anyone. Accidents are thoroughly investigated, and if there is even a hint of wrongdoing by the one who accidentally harmed the other, it will be left up to the gods to decide."
Which was the same as saying accidents were also punishable by death. Heather was glad she didn't have the ax Maour had made for her. The longbow and arrows she had taken from the Berserker ship were more than enough as a last resort, and far less likely to permit accidents, given the bow couldn't hurt anyone on its own, and the arrows were safely ensconced in the quiver she wore.
Maour and Toothless hadn't remarked on her being armed yet. They seemed to understand Nóttreiði might not fully know what she was carrying around, and since Maour had his weapon on his back at all times, even here, weapons obviously weren't forbidden. Just their use.
'Only on land?' Einfari asked.
"Only on land?" Heather repeated, knowing the Order-keeper wouldn't be able to hear Einfari. "What about in the air or out on the water? Can we be shot at from the ground?"
The Order-keeper shook his head. "Ships that are not anchored or beached here are out of my jurisdiction. The air above this island, on the other hand, has no set rule. However, as the one shooting would be on the ground, logically they would be attacking against the peace, as they are still on the island. I will also consider air strikes against someone on the island breaking the peace, for obvious reasons."
That was about what she expected, though it was good to know all bets were off when it came to getting onto any ship. "Any other loopholes we should know to be wary of?"
"You think I am going to tell you the loopholes to the peace you are about to commit yourself to?" the Order-keeper asked incredulously. "I fear I will be forced to send you to the gods before the day is over. Leave, if it is your intention to exploit the peace. I will not stand for it."
"I wanted to know to protect myself and my friends," Heather shot back, cutting her hand with the knife. "I have reason to want one man here dead, but I can put that aside, and will."
"And now you must; you are under the peace of this place." The Order-keeper didn't ask for his knife back; he knew what was coming.
Heather handed the knife to Einfari, who took it by the hilt with her teeth and laboriously poked the top of her right paw with it. Then she turned to Nóttreiði and lightly jabbed his paw with it, staring into his eyes the entire time.
'If I cannot control myself here, then I deserve the consequence they will administer,' Nóttreiði growled. 'And if they attack me, I will flee to watch them be cut down by their own kind.' Penitent, but not too penitent, and reluctant enough that Heather believed there was some genuine good intent mixed into the subterfuge and lurking distrust. Now that he was actually trying to hide hid true feelings, he was doing it as well as any Nótt would.
Einfari nodded and presented the Order-keeper with his blood-stained knife. He took it gingerly, clearly reluctant to place his hand so near her razor-sharp teeth. "This Isle of Night is a place of many wonders, I think."
"At least three," Heather agreed, gesturing to the three Night Furies.
"It is done?" Maour asked, confirming what they all knew had just happened. Heather understood the sentiment; when their lives were on the line, it was a good idea to get everything repeated and confirmed. To die to some random mix-up or miscommunication would be almost comically stupid.
"Done; there are now two humans and three dragons from the Isle of Night under the peace." The Order-keeper made to leave them, before turning back. "Am I going to have to add any more of you before this gathering is over?"
"You definitely shouldn't," Maour said firmly. He left it at that, probably because it could mean anything from 'we're the only ones' to 'everyone else has strict orders to stay home.' He was toeing the line on what could and could not be revealed, and he was doing so with ease. Heather knew she had to do the same. Einfari had it easy; nobody here could hear her, so she could say whatever she wanted.
'So,' Einfari said, watching the Order-keeper go, 'how many people do you think he and his men execute at a normal meeting like this?'
'I would say one or two at most,' Toothless proposed. 'The ones in charge know to bring people who can handle themselves. And if the ones in charge can't do the same, their replacements will be able to. So, only a few."
'By the looks of it, that few sees us,' Nóttreiði rumbled, looking out over the beach at the nearest campsite.
Heather took a good look at the humans Nóttreiði was talking about. Three in total. A large man with two prosthetic limbs, a chubby man who seemed younger than the large man, and a fit, trim woman with blond hair and an ax, along with a sharpened stake. The woman's eyes burned with an unnerving intensity even from here, hundreds of yards away.
"That'd be Astrid, Snotlout, and Gobber," Maour informed them. "Stay away from Astrid. The other two shouldn't be any more dangerous than the average Viking."
'Astrid is the one as crazy as Dagur?' Einfari asked, eying the woman in question.
'Pretty much, yes. Don't let her get close to you.' Toothless growled warningly. 'If anyone is going to break this peace, it will be her or Dagur. Do not let them do so by striking a killing blow.'
"Avoid. Got it. So who do we not avoid here?" It kind of stunk that there was a supposed peace, but nothing preventing it from being broken but the fear of reprisal, which wouldn't do the victims of those breaking the peace any good. In fact, if Heather were a Chief with murderous intentions, she'd bring some disposable troops here and trade them for the lives of her greatest enemies, if any such troops could be found.
"Avoid all Berserkers, by the way," she warned, realizing that Dagur could have done exactly that. "Dagur might have brought a few honor-driven men to spend on killing the opposition."
"Who would volunteer for that job?" Maour asked skeptically.
"Last night I was volunteering myself." Looking at it that way, it was even stupider than Toothless had made it seem. "And Dagur is sadistic as well as crazy. They might not be volunteers. Take a prisoner, tell him he'll die a terrible, torturous death if he doesn't cooperate…"
'And bring him here to smite your most hated enemies while their backs are turned,' Einfari snarled. 'Peace or not, this place is a death trap.'
'We need to go, Einfari,' Nóttreiði growled. 'Let the humans and Toothless do their business; we are nothing but large, inviting targets.'
'I am here to support Heather; you are here to support me.' Einfari shrugged her wings dismissively. 'If it gets too tense, we will go, but not without her.'
"And we are here to talk to a few different Chiefs today," Maour interrupted, getting them back onto some semblance of a productive discussion. "Specifically the Waxears and the Meatheads. I could really use the advice of a few Nótts and my brother on that one."
'We are also here to get food. Remember my suggestion?' Einfari asked slyly.
'That was a good idea,' Toothless purred. 'Time for breakfast.'
"Fine," Maour laughed. "It'll set the mood, at the very least, and not everyone is up yet, so now's the time."
Explosions, the perfect way to start any day. That, or pained screams, or pitiful pleas for mercy-
Why had he been thinking of explosions? Dagur was about to cross it off as a hallucination when another blast echoed in the distance, not too far away. He bolted upright in an instant, grabbed his helmet and asymmetrical ax, and tore a hole right through the side of his tent. Battle was upon them!
Savage was waiting outside his tent, correctly anticipating his disdain for the proper exit. "Sir, it's not a fight, they're just shooting the water. A demonstration of power, I think."
Dagur glared out at the ocean, and at the three Night Furies now swooping to skim the choppy water's surface. Of course, Hiccup and his beasts of burden would taunt him like this! Did they want an ax to the face? He'd be more than happy to give one or ten to them if they would just…
"What's the status of our ships off-shore?" Dagur asked hopefully. "Are they ready to fire yet?" He had needed to order some hasty modifications to their gear, mostly involving removing some of the more fatal adjustments he had added only a few weeks ago, but it would be worth it. Probably.
"Not yet, sir, but they worked through the night, so soon," Savage hastily reassured him, taking a subtle step back to get out of immediate axing range. A futile precaution if Dagur was in the mood to throw things and also in the mood to find a new second-in-command, but he was not, so Savage lived to cringe another day.
"Speaking of replacing you," Dagur idly continued, not caring that Savage had not heard his internal musings, "is that my absent sister up there?" Two of the Night Furies carried riders, and he recognized the black hair and stern face of the one he was sure was distantly related to him. She looked a lot like their mother, who had died long before Osvald had needed to be replaced.
"Possibly, but sir, she wants you dead." Savage shrugged his shoulders as if bothered by that. "You had decided to kill her, remember?"
"Since when? Never mind that; enough persuasion will change her mind." He very well might have resolved to have her executed, and it was entirely possible this was only the latest in a long series of changes of heart; there was a reason he preferred quick and easy plans or at least plans with simple results. It was hard to keep a consistent outlook on something he could go either way on.
"But could she lead anything afterward?" Savage asked quietly. Dagur didn't really hear him, too caught up in watching the Night Furies. At the very least, Hiccup and his stupid animals were giving everyone on this island a great introduction to what the beasts actually looked like. They were pretty unimpressive, really, and boasted plenty of great weak points. Big wings, long tails, four legs, low to the ground…
These dragons were basically begging to be killed, and it enraged him that he couldn't oblige them. Night Fury scale armor would be great. No, not scale, that was what Hiccup was wearing, Dagur wanted skin armor, chunks of rotting flesh strapped to existing leather armor to provide insulation and a stench fit to ward of anyone too weak-willed to ignore it.
Or, barring that, a Night Fury hat. He'd have to get someone on that as soon as he had two to play with. No, make that three. One for him to break and ride, a female for that one so he could stock a private island with flightless Night Furies to hunt when life got dull, and one to make his hat out of.
In other words, the three that were right in front of him in the distance. Those would do nicely, assuming one was female. He wouldn't know; for dragon killers, that kind of knowledge was just a side note when skinning the corpse.
"Savage, I want you to find out the gender of those dragons," Dagur commanded absently. "Also, make sure our soldiers know to take them alive."
Savage stared at him oddly for a brief moment before nodding. "Aye, sir."
"I want my own private island with a limitless supply of wingless Night Furies to hunt," Dagur expained, knowing he would rather not have to hear frustratingly inaccurate rumors, which would crop up if his men got wind of those requests without also hearing the real reasons for them. He was crazy enough; the truth should be enough to make men quake in fear. Rumors would just be annoying, and he couldn't afford to purge any here. He didn't have enough men here to be killing them on a whim.
"Oh, and invite Heather to dine with me on my lead ship," he continued after a moment. "The second she sets foot on the ship, pull anchor, drift off of the island, and capture her."
"Sir, she might not-"
"Be convincing, Savage," Dagur exclaimed, kicking sand at his annoying subordinate. "Look, they're setting down over there. Go! And if you get attacked, make your last words a request for me to carry out the Order-keeper's retribution instead of one of his men." He couldn't go over there himself; the urge to kill would be too strong, and he knew his limits. The time would come; his plans were in motion, and so were Astrid's, some of which he knew and some of which he probably didn't.
Astrid was hunting Hiccup, and so was he, and he was hunting her at the same time. He was going to get everything he wanted here, and that wasn't even including everything that he planned on doing to prep these other so-called tribes for the imminent Berserker takeover.
'Incoming,' Nóttreiði growled. 'One, alone, armed.' This, he could do, and he didn't even have to bury his unease in the face of these actually threatening humans. If only Einfari wasn't here. This was a pointless risk for her.
And him, but he didn't care. Except he knew she would care, which was frustrating.
Nóttreiði took a deep breath and tried to focus on what he needed to be doing. Watching their surroundings, alerting Einfari and Toothless to any and all possible threats, and nothing else. Hiding his suspicion of the humans his sister persisted in being friends with until they showed their true nature… or until they didn't. That was a possibility.
'He was with Dagur on that other island,' Toothless growled. "Savage, I think. Dagur's chief minion?"
"Correct," Maour agreed, finishing off the hastily-cooked fish that was his portion of their catch. "Dagur's not coming, so this is either a distraction or a messenger."
'Heather says she isn't planning on listening to anything Dagur has to say,' Einfari said in a low tone, translating for Nóttreiði. She insisted on translating for Heather until she began speaking in both languages like Maour so that Nóttreiði could hear her.
Nóttreiði didn't really mind that, now. He needed to know what the human was saying in order to watch her as closely as possible. As his sister was getting into the habit of translating everything Heather said, even a lack of her translating would be a warning sign.
The human they called Savage was getting closer. Nóttreiði walked over to stand between Einfari and the approaching enemy, planting his paws in the sand. He would not be passed. That did mean he was defending Heather too, as Einfari had almost immediately pulled Heather behind her, but so be it.
Nóttreiði was here to defend and to watch, nothing more. He could hold himself back, and if he could not, then he would die. It was as simple as that. To protect Einfari, he could do it. Besides, there was something comforting about being surrounded by humans even the humans his sister liked considered threats. At least he was not at odds with his sister and her friends on this. They were as suspicious as him.
Of course, Maour and Toothless were trying to get some on their side, but Nóttreiði didn't really care about that. Let the humans fight each other here, far from home, as was the idea. That was a plan he could get behind, if it kept them away from home, away from Joy and his parents and all of the other Night Furies.
Besides, he was here, ready to interfere if Toothless or Maour so much as hinted at bringing any other humans to their home island or even telling them about it. Nóttreiði might not understand humans talking, but he could hear Maour talking like a dragon, and for Maour the two went together. By being here, he could enforce the security Maour himself had sworn to uphold. Yet another reason to hold his temper and bite his tongue.
Nóttreiði was here to protect and observe. He could do that with no issues. That was something a Nótt would do. Something Einfari would do, were she not already certain the humans purportedly on their side would not betray them.
The human was still approaching. Nóttreiði steeled himself and did nothing but glare, watching closely, as it began to speak.
"Dagur the Deranged, Chief of the proud Berserker tribe-"
"Can go throw himself off of a cliff," Heather offered, cutting Savage off. "Go away." She wasn't going to listen to Dagur, even through proxy. Being reminded that he was here just made her mad.
"Dagur invites you to dine with him on his leading warship," Savage continued, undeterred by her interruption. The three decidedly unfriendly dragons nearby were more intimidating, but it seemed he feared failing Dagur more than he feared being attacked, at least on this island. "That one, over there."
Heather eyed the floating ship out by the shore in the distance. "Fat chance." She had just found out ships weren't included in the peace if they were offshore, and a ship beached like that could be offshore in seconds. There was no way she was setting foot on any ship during this entire ordeal. "Not happening."
"Can't say I didn't tell you," Savage agreed, not seeming all that bothered by her refusal. He spent a few moments eyeing each of the Night Furies in turn before hastily retreating.
"Best interaction with a Berserker I've ever had," Heather remarked, putting Savage and Dagur out of her mind. "Maour, are we going to the Meatheads or Waxears first?"
Maour, who was messing around with Toothless's saddlebags, paused and looked over at her. "I know the Meatheads, so we'll do them first."
"Because they'll be easier to convince to hear you out later?" Heather guessed.
"No, because they'll be the harder of the two, for that same reason," Maour corrected her. He and Toothless took to the air, and Heather followed on Einfari. Nóttreiði flew behind them, eyeing anything and everything that moved on the island or out on the water.
"Why would they be harder?" She would assume more knowledge about the ones to be convinced would be an asset.
"They knew me before all of this," he called over to her.
'They knew Hiccup,' Toothless added. 'Weak, scrawny, pushover Hiccup. They will think nothing had changed.'
"Exactly," Maour agreed. "I'm sick and tired of explaining myself to everyone, and it's only the first full day. So I'm just going to forge ahead and totally ignore the insults. If you can see an angle to get them to listen, take it."
"I thought you were the one that had to make the deals?" Heather asked. It made sense; Maour was the 'leader' of the Isle of Night, at least on parchment, so he had to be the acting Chief for this kind of thing, even if it was understood that he wasn't actually in charge.
"To make the deals, yes, but we're just letting them know we'll have a deal for them tonight, so you can do all the convincing you want." Maour sounded unsure of himself. "And this is all assuming they'll actually want to join a defensive alliance against the Berserkers and Berk. But a chance at allies is better than no chance, however awkward this is going to be."
'It will be fine,' Toothless asserted. 'Is that the tent group we are aiming for?'
"No, the one to the left of that one," Maour corrected. One short curve in the air later, and they were descending a few dozen paces away from a scattered collection of tents. The Meathead ship, or so Heather assumed, was floating just offshore.
The tents looked empty. Heather dismounted and took a few steps toward them.
'There are humans fighting on that ship,' Nóttreiði growled, gesturing towards the ship. 'I hear them.'
Fighting? Heather couldn't see anyone on the ship from here, but the odds were that wasn't fighting, it was sparring, which was why it as taking place offshore. "That's going to be a problem."
"Out of the bounds of the peace," Maour agreed. "I might know them, but that doesn't mean I trust them. Especially not them. None of us are setting foot on that ship."
'So do we just wait here?' Einfari asked skeptically. 'Or do we get their attention and make them come back onto the island?'
"Get their attention," was Heather's opinion on the subject. "They're Vikings, and they won't respect us if we just wait for them to have time. I'd say go onto the ship, but that's too dangerous, even for just me and Maour." She was used to being a wanted woman, and though these weren't Berserkers, her status as a dragon rider meant she was still very much a target for any Viking.
"Heather is right." Maour and Toothless took to the air once again. "You three stay back. We'll strafe them without firing, and I'll call Mogadon back to shore."
'Who says we cannot do that too?' Einfari growled as Toothless and Maour were off. For some reason, she didn't even suggest they ignore Maour's order on the subject, sticking solely to complaints about it.
'Our lack of combat experience; nothing stops them from firing on Toothless,' Nóttreiði observed. 'Nothing but ineptitude and lack of warning.'
"We really need to fix that lack of experience," Heather agreed, watching Toothless and Maour dive with a loud roar. They couldn't do that out here, but maybe something could be arranged back on the island.
The island. It didn't actually have a name, aside from the one Maour had just recently given it here for show, the Isle of Night. That would do, really.
'It appears we were not needed anyway,' Nóttreiði observed. The ship was dropping anchor and lowering a smaller craft, one with two very angry-looking men in it. One was huge, and the other solid but not bulky, younger than the large one. Both carried massive swords that hung down well past their knees in fittingly large sheaths. Heather thought up and saved for later a scathing comment about overcompensating, just in case things turned sour enough that she wanted to insult them.
'That worked,' Toothless said happily, landing beside Einfari. 'They're not too happy about it, either.'
"That's because we scared them," Maour explained. "Around here, showing fear is weakness, and scaring someone is strength. That's why us fishing just off the shore of the island and probably waking people up was a good idea. The more intimidating we are, the better our bargaining position it. It's stupid, but there's no getting out away from it."
'The more intimidating we are, the more likely they are to break this so-called peace and attack,' Nóttreiði added sourly. 'Einfari, let me stand between you and them.'
'And if I don't?' Einfari asked disagreeably.
'Why am I here if not to protect you?' Nóttreiði complained. 'Do not take that away from me. It is all I have left.' His voice broke a little with that, in what Heather suspected was true pain redirected to make this particular argument stronger. Nóttreiði was no slouch at manipulating, and Einfari wanted to believe, which made it easy for him to deceive her.
'Fine, stand between me and them,' Einfari granted. 'Heather, will you dismount for this? Maour did.'
Heather only then noticed that Maour had begun walking out to meet Mogadon and whoever the other Viking was. "Yes, I was distracted." She slid out of the saddle and jogged for a few seconds to catch up to Maour. Toothless, Einfari, and Nóttreiði flanked them from a short distance behind, ensuring absolutely nothing would go unnoticed. The three dragons acted as if they might be ambushed at any moment-
Which they might. The possibility of suicide Berserker warriors was not to be dismissed lightly. It would not pay to assume they were safe here, even if they were supposed to be.
'I have the humans, Einfari has the sea, and Nóttreiði the land?' Toothless proposed as they walked.
'Why do you get the humans?' Einfari asked.
'I know them a little better than you? You can listen to them while you watch the water; human ships are not fast, so that will not take all of your attention.'
Heather tuned out the discussion of her friends and Nóttreiði as the large Viking Chief drew within speaking distance. "Strafe us like that again, dragon rider, and your beast will get a stomachful of iron."
Maour shrugged that one off pretty easily, smiling sarcastically. "Had to get your attention somehow, and I suspect your men would try to make that threat a reality the moment we landed on your ship."
"That's a Night Fury," the other Viking observed. "You're right, we would do our best to kill it, tamed or not."
"Not." Maour stopped in the sand and crossed his arms. Heather took that as a cue to stop just short of standing by his side. She wanted these two belligerent men focused on Maour so that they would not focus on her at first. That would give her time to figure out what kind of men they were. If she was going to help Maour, she was going to be thorough about it.
"He's not tame," Maour continued. "Not trained. Not docile."
"Looks like a watchdog to me," Mogadon observed. "All three of them. Not trained," he scoffed. "Right. Whatever you think you're getting from that lie, it's not going to work. Now what did you want, Hiccup, and why should I care?"
Mogadon was a classic Viking Chief. All brawn, just enough brain to be annoyingly sure of himself, and not enough brain to consider anything outside of his views. Heather didn't know what Maour had planned, but he wasn't going to convince Mogadon to change anything about how he saw the world, so if he tried this was going to go bad, fast.
"Not my name," Maour corrected calmly. "And I gain nothing but you knowing the truth. But it doesn't matter. Mogadon, how fares your military?"
"Is that a threat?" the other Viking asked, putting a hand to the hilt of his large sword. The question was whether he planned on drawing it or just meant it as a symbolic gesture. Hard to tell, but Heather was going to go with the former.
"No, not at all," Maour replied. "Hiccup might have plenty of reason to dislike both of you, but as I have said, that is not my name, and I hold no ill will towards either of you."
"Plenty of reason?" Mogadon asked angrily.
"Past things." Maour shrugged. "Insults, using my weakness to dig at Stoick and lessen his honor, trying to propose I be set aside in favor of Snotlout at the yearly meetings… how are you liking Snotlout in charge now, by the way? You got your wish."
"Never mind that," Mogadon growled, looking angry. It seemed Maour had scored a point or two over him with that one. "What do you want? You interrupted our warm-up matches."
"Tonight, Bertha and I will have a deal to propose to your tribe, among others," Maour explained. "It's in your best interest to listen. My people bear you no specific ill-will, and I think we might have a few enemies in common. You will see."
"Common enemies… boy, the entire archipelago is your enemy, so that might just be true," Mogadon laughed. "And who's the silent woman with the Berserker longbow? Don't tell me you've managed to trick your way into a wife; I'd not believe that if I saw it."
That was Heather's cue to speak. She hadn't managed to help Maour at all, but this entire conversation looked to have been doomed from the start, so that didn't bother her so much. "I'm no such thing. Just proof he is far from standing alone." She wasn't sure how he had identified her bow as Berserker-made; she certainly hasn't seen any distinguishing markings. "And I took this off of a dead Berserker."
"Common enemies indeed," Mogadon repeated. "Maybe I'll hear you out tonight, and maybe I won't."
A horn sounded in the distance, blaring the same note over and over. Mogadon cast a truly hateful glare at Maour. "And now you've wasted my time. I was supposed to be warming up."
"For what?" Heather asked, knowing that she was more likely to get an actual answer.
"The duel of the Chieftains," the other man supplied. "It happens at every meeting. The Order-keeper takes any Chief who wants to participate out on his own ship, and they have a series of duels."
"Aye, and I'm in the running," Mogadon concluded, stamping a wide circle around Einfari and the other dragons, headed down the beach to the Order-keeper's ship. A small crowd was gathering there.
Maour watched him go. "I don't know what I expected, really, but a part of me thought that would go better."
"He wasn't in the mood to stand around and talk," Heather observed. "It went well enough considering you took him away from his precious warming up."
'And now there is going to be more fighting.' Einfari was watching the gathering crowd, many of which were setting up on the side of the hill. "Among Chiefs, so we cannot speak to the other one just yet."
"Maybe the Chief of the Waxears will listen if we wait until after the fight." Maour shrugged unhappily, walking back to Toothless and putting a hand on his side. "This feels a lot less likely to work than it did last night."
"But it's not any less likely; you're just discouraged." She totally understood that feeling. "Just press on. It's not like things can get all that much worse."
'Speaking of worse, do we want to risk going over there to watch?' Toothless asked hopefully. 'I'd like to see them fighting each other. From a safe distance, anyway.'
"If we do want to watch, we have to do it from the ground." Maour sounded sure of that. "Watching from the air is as good as saying we're afraid of everyone else, and not watching might be just as bad."
"So we need to go watch," Heather concluded. "I don't like the look of that crowd, but the top of the hill looks deserted, and we aren't limited by our eyesight.'
"The top of the hill is a good place," Maour agreed. "We can watch from there."
A series of duels between Chieftains. Paltry, worthless entertainment, if it ended at first blood drawn, which it did. Astrid joined Snotlout in actually boarding the Order-keeper's ship anyway, both because it was expected of her and because she wanted to see how Snotlout would do.
Not because she cared about him. Because his performance would affect how negotiations went later. She had to care about that, though it made her want to just take his place, which wasn't allowed.
What she wanted was to have Gobber and some of Dagur's soldiers knock Hiccup and his dragons out, along with the girl she vaguely recognized, bring them here, and then execute them, one by one. No combat, not fair chance; she wanted them tied down so she could make it hurt without any opposition.
But that wasn't going to happen. Even now, they were watching from the hill of the island, as far from danger as possible, like the cowards they were. She glared up at them, unsure whether or not they could see her. Three Night Furies and two riders, who were infinitely weaker but just as bad.
In time. Very little time. Tonight. She had a plan, a good one, and then another, one made with Dagur. If her personal plan failed, which it might, then she could fall back on the one made with Dagur. He would help; he wanted Hiccup dead just as badly, and he was infatuated with her.
She could use that. Would use that, to the fullest possible extent. Dagur had an armada, and Berk had a tiny fleet. The choice was obvious, and Dagur was freely offering her the option. Astrid had long since discarded loyalty by killing Stoick; Berk was just the place she currently held power in order to facilitate her hunts. She would let it burn if that got her more chances to kill dragons, to kill Night Furies.
There was a hearty cry from all around her; she only turned away from watching the distant watchers to see that Dagur had trounced Norbert the Nutjob. That was no surprise-
But the next matchup was, forcing Astrid to actually pay attention. Snotlout was finally up, facing Alvin the Treacherous. The two men entered the small circle inscribed on the deck, impatiently listened to the Order-keeper drone on about the rules, and then had at each other.
Alvin almost immediately took the upper hand, literally, by slamming his ax down at Snotlout's helmet. Snotlout almost dropped his sword in blocking that, and a short moment occurred in which the two men strained against each other.
"Ye definitely stabbed Stoick in the back, boy," Alvin gritted, a smile crossing his rugged and scarred face.
Snotlout visibly paled as Alvin took a hand off of the ax he was driving down, flaunting just how weak Snotlout was in comparison. It took all of Snotlout's strength to hold back Alvin.
"Because," Alvin drawled mockingly, "yer nothin' compared to him." His now free hand balled into a fist and punched Snotlout so had he dropped his sword, folding to the ground in a breathless heap.
Alvin immediately discarded his own ax and pulled Snotlout up, before socking him in the face. "I don' take kindly to you cuttin' off me and Stoick before we were square," he continued. "An'-"
"First blood," the Order-keeper intoned, pointing to Snotlout's crooked and dripping nose.
"Aw, come on," Alvin complained, shoving Snotlout back, "I was jus' getting started."
Astrid turned away, grimacing as she did. That was going to hurt Berk's reputation. Alvin had won with three hits, and nothing more. Given Astrid planned to intimidate a few of the Bog Burglar's neighbors into not intervening when she and Snotlout burned their island to the ground at some point in the near future, she had to care. Her work had just become a little more frustrating.
No problem. Her most important goals here did not rely on reputation. She turned back to watching Hiccup and his beasts. Eyes on the prey.
"Alvin seems to have an issue with Snotlout," Maour observed. "If the bloody nose and utter humiliation are anything to go by." That could just be the Outcast Chief taking advantage in Snotlout's inability to stand up to anyone of his size and skill in battle, but what Alvin had said the night before seemed to imply it was a more personal grudge.
"Maour," Heather called over from her seat on the other side of their little group, "can you read lips?"
"Not really," he answered, unsurprised she had asked. There had definitely been words exchanged between Snotlout and Alvin, but while the eyesight of Night Furies meant they had a great view, the same could not be said for hearing. "I haven't had much reason to learn that skill."
"I'll add it to the list," Heather said, speaking to herself.
'What list?' Einfari asked curiously. She was seated by Heather, with Nóttreiði on her other side. Toothless was perched next to Nóttreiði, and Maour was leaning up against him.
"Something Toothless told me to think about," Heather answered vaguely. Toothless purred contentedly at that reply.
'The insane female is back to staring at us,' Nóttreiði growled.
'You keep watching her.' Einfari nodded decisively. 'That is helpful. She is dangerous, and not distracted like everyone else.'
'She will try something sooner or later,' Toothless agreed. 'But everyone is either on that ship or sitting in plain sight down there,' he continued, glancing down the hill, where many Vikings argued, cheered, took bets, and generally spectated despite probably not seeing much of anything. The Order-keeper's announcements were just loud enough for them to hear, so they knew what was going on in the vaguest of terms.
"So you're saying we're safe for the moment?" Maour asked.
'Yes, for now. But I am not letting my guard down.' Toothless was as jumpy as Nóttreiði by now. It seemed Heather's asking after loopholes and then warning them of Berserkers who might be happy to die in the process of attacking had spooked him.
Those things had spooked Maour too, so he wasn't about to tell Toothless- or Nóttreiði, for that matter- to ease up. Things were not working out well so far today, and it would be par for the course for some Berserker to decide to take a stab at them when they were least expecting it. At least Dagur was definitely down on that ship, getting ready for the quarter-finals of the sparring tournament.
'The next match is starting. Mogadon against… who is that, again?' Einfari asked.
Maour focused on Toothless's vision and tried to get a good look. The constantly shifting crowd around the ring made it hard. "Aldir, I think?" The was thin and moved abruptly, which was pretty much all Maour remembered of the Chief of the Waxears from the night before. He at least seemed to be a pretty even match for Mogadon, which-
'Hey!' Toothless's vision suddenly swung around, disorienting Maour. Now, instead of the distant fight, he was looking at Toothless's tail.
"What is it?" Maour asked, returning to his own vision to physically turn around for himself. Sudden, unexpected shifts like that made his head hurt if he wasn't expecting them, but he was far more worried about what might have made Toothless yelp.
'My tail. I felt like something was tugging at the canvas of the false side,' Toothless explained, looking around. 'But there's nobody up here.'
Maour looked for himself, knowing Toothless was right. They were off to one side of the ring of logs and bonfire that would once again be put into use tonight, and there wasn't anywhere for a Viking, even a thin one like Astrid or Heather, to hide.
'So is there or is there not danger up here?' Nóttreiði growled impatiently. 'I am going to check.'
'Go ahead,' Toothless agreed, eyeing his own tail suspiciously. 'Maybe a bug?'
"Are there bugs up here?" Maour wasn't worried about Nóttreiði checking the immediate area; there really wasn't anywhere for anyone to hide. He moved over to check the prosthetic himself.
Nóttreiði didn't expect to find anything. He just wanted to move around a little. Watching that crazy female glare at them unsettled him a little. She reminded him of how he had acted toward Heather, though there were many differences, too. The constant, unvarying, unchanging hate was the same.
These logs were old and stained with foul-smelling liquid. Something of humans, probably. It smelled heady and intoxicating. The bonfire was old and cold, likely destined to be refueled if the humans planned on burning it again-
A small sound caught his attention. A rustling, from behind one of the closer logs. Maybe there was a small animal; a full-sized human would never be able to hide there.
If it was a small animal, he could kill and eat it. There was no rule against violence towards mindless little creatures who pestered his fellow dragon, even if he didn't care all that much about Toothless.
Nóttreiði rounded the log with a low growl, preparing a blast to-
A small, incorrectly-proportioned human was sprawled out on the ground behind the log, her body small enough to make that a sufficient hiding place for her. He forced the blast in the back of his throat to die away, knowing that to strike would be to commit several different atrocities.
Why, in all of his hating of humans, had he never considered what he might do if he stumbled across a human fledgling? It just had never come up. He didn't think he had even considered that such things might exist.
The human fledgling looked up at him with wide and mostly unfrightened eyes. Then it poked a paw up at him and put the other to its mouth.
'Einfari,' he called out, backing away, 'I do not know what to do with this.' He wanted no part in dealing with something like that. Keeping his cool was easy. He felt no desire to strike out at that, even if doing so would not have been death.
'With what?' Einfari and Heather came over to see what he was staring at. 'Oh, that. Heather?'
"Don't look at me; I never spent much time with kids," Heather replied. "Maour, we found the tail-puller."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" the little human shouted, jumping up. Nóttreiði didn't hear it directly, but Einfari was translating for it too.
"You were at the meeting last night," Maour remarked, looking at the small human. "Kim, right? Aldir's daughter?"
Nóttreiði didn't know who that was. He was just glad Einfari and the others were taking this discovery off of his paws. It made him nervous for reasons he could not fully understand at the moment.
"Yes. You're the dragon rider from the stories, right?" the little human asked. Then she turned to Heather. "Or are you?"
"I'm the one in the stories," Maour agreed. "You don't seem all that afraid of us."
"Dad says you're dangerous, but he says everything is dangerous, and you look less frightening than everyone else here," was the response.
Now something was really bothering Nóttreiði. 'Is it male or female?' he asked, not sure why he cared.
'Female,' Toothless replied. 'Definitely, with how high her voice is. The hair is also a hint.'
A little female approaching this particular human and dragon, for she had gone right to Toothless, and doing so despite the warning of her worried father-
Nóttreiði didn't like the parallel his mind had just drawn. This human was nothing like Joy, even if it had just done something remarkably similar to what she had in years past, approaching Maour despite their father's warnings.
"We're not dangerous to good people," Maour responded kindly. "But pulling a dragon's tail is a good way to get hurt."
"Sorry," the little female replied. "But there's nothing to do around here. Everyone is busy watching something nobody can even see. I'm not allowed to watch anyway."
Now the parallels were becoming annoying. Nóttreiði walked over to the other side of the hill's summit, trying to drive them from his mind. So what if this human female happened to be a lot like Joy? It was human. He needed to be suspicious. What if this was the trick sent by the other humans?
He needed to be realistic. Would the humans send a fledgling to attack five adults? No. So this was just a harmless encounter with a human who bothered him far more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.
Nóttreiði cast a quick glance over his shoulder. The human was still there and showed no signs of leaving. So much for letting it go away and forgetting about it.
Author's Note: In case anybody is wondering, we're going to pick up right here with the next chapter; this scene isn't actually over. I just decided to cut it here, at what would be a POV transition. (Also, this chapter expanded dramatically. I didn't even cover everything I planned to originally.)