Layed

Frost stood and let out a long exhale, impatiently thumping her tail against the smooth stone floor of her cave. She huffed and pranced around a tight circle, sniffing, inspecting every bit of the walls and ceiling, making sure that it was a good spot to lay her eggs.

For the fifteenth time.

Toothless was stretched out on his back, wriggling around to scratch an itch. {Frost, you're making me dizzy.}

She snorted derisively. {Males! So impatient and careless!}

Belly-up, Toothless gave her a gummy… something the land-striders called a "smile". It made him look brain-dead. {I have seen other dragons lay eggs.} He was so close to Stormfly that she had allowed his presence when she laid both clutches of her eggs – and he also got to watch them hatch. {You should be glad it's nothing like how land-striders bring a new life into this world.}

Frost stilled in her circling and flicked her head to look at Toothless, raising her sensor lobes in inquiry. Toothless shared a memory of a time when his rider's mate Zealot gave birth. Frost saw the pained expressions, the screaming and shouting, stress heightened so much for all present that the air practically crackled with lightning.

Frost screeched and recoiled in horror. {How can such creatures continue to exist let alone grow and thrive?!}

Toothless rolled to his belly and looked at her, amused. {One part insanity, two parts stubbornness, and three parts strength that seems out of place in their little bodies.}

Frost huffed and resumed circling. She knew what was coming for her, and she had high expectations for this clutch with how much her swelled midsection limited her flexibility. Even several days ago, when she was made to fly and carry that white-haired land-strider, and Firefly's clever thinking allowed her to save Toothless and let loose in killing some of those sting-tails, she had felt the pinch along her spine and the stretch along her belly.

The eggs had grown inside her much more since then, and she knew that it was time. The smell, the weight inside… This would be her fifth clutch, and thanks to Firefly, these eggshells might even break from the inside out instead of being smashed in by her own paw.

The time finally came. Toothless stood, attentive, eyes and sensor lobes constantly on the swivel for any potential threat. Frost circled once more, laying down a heavy stream of fire. Toothless tried to help – unnecessarily – and got flame and smoke in his face for it. Males!

She arched her back and stilled, pushing, following instincts.

One… Two…

Her most disappointing clutch with the most disappointing male. She was desperate for anything to break up the monotony of control over her mind to betray her own kind.

Three… Four…

It was her way of apologizing to a dragon who deserved better than what she would proceed to do to him, and being forced to smash her own eggs was her punishment for caring even that much. Even her female victims – mated or not – were as unprepared for Frost's gift to them as they were for her betrayal.

Five…

Her first clutch, with a male who was absolutely insatiable! She had learned so much, like the notion of too much of a good thing.

Six…

Her last clutch. The male had recently lost his mate to some mysterious fate… one that Frost was incapable of telling him about. She couldn't have stopped herself from leading him to the same fate, but she could at least take him there satiated.

Seven…

Toothless really was a good specimen.

No eighth, one shy of the clutch in which she was spawned, something to try for next time.

Toothless licked her muzzle, and she purred– then nipped at him to set him back to searching for threats. As he turned his flank to her, she gave it a lick, and he shivered and purred at the affection. He had good sense to offer what support he could, in what ways he could, without suffocating her.

Frost turned to her eggs, delicately prancing around them, gently nosing them into a tight cluster. She blew out a gentle flame over them for a moment, nosed them over, flamed, nosed, flamed. The shells hardened nicely to a shining dark gray.

Toothless stole occasional glances at the eggs, curious, puzzled. Frost raised a sensor lobe in inquiry.

{Firefly and I were so sure that the eggs would be some mixture of black and white. He thought they would have spots, and I thought they would have stripes.}

Frost growled indignantly and swatted at his snout, projecting a common sight of land-strider's herd beasts that were white with black spots, an insulting comparison.

Toothless chortled and stoutly weathered some more swats to the snout. The dragon had a goofy, cross-eyed look on his face, not because of Frost or the eggs but because of his rider. Frost reached out with her senses to see what he was seeing, through the eye of a dragon named Surf, who was projecting his senses.

Firefly was able to see the eggs through Toothless' eyes, projected over the distance and relayed to his weaker mind by the little mink dragon on his shoulder. His arms were outstretched, a look of unabashed adoration on his face, as he tried to run towards the newly-laid eggs from the other end of the island. His mate Zealot yawned as she restrained him with one hand gripping his scruff, the other hand holding their youngest against her breast.

Toothless continued projecting his senses for his rider's sake as he looked at and nosed the eggs. Frost raised a paw, wary of anything near her eggs, and Toothless looked up at her with a lilting, mirthful expression. She slowly lowered her paw to gently pat his head instead. He was being very gentle, so he could be allowed. This time.

Surf was still projecting his senses, and Frost could see Firefly melt into an unsightly puddle of contentment at his mate's feet.

Frost nosed her eggs one last time, admiring the nice sound they made as their hardened shells gently knocked into each other. Seven eggs, nicely colored, no deformities, a good clutch.

She lay there, purring contentedly, tail swishing back and forth, secure and in control of herself for the first time in a long time. She looked at her mate and licked his snout. He inhaled deeply and licked her back.

Something was wrong.

Something about the eggs… There was some problem with them…

Ah, yes, these eggs were the problem! She spawned them, but they were a burden. She raised a paw–

Pain flared in her nose and she flinched back. Toothless crouched over the eggs, teeth bared, ready to strike Frost down hard if that was what it took to protect them.

Frost flopped to her side, howling in grief at that close call. Toothless waited it out, and when she stopped, he gently licked at where he had bitten her nose, purring, patient in his ministrations. He knew that she desperately wanted to be a dam, to see these eggs hatch, that it was only a little slip, a vestige of her past manipulations that she would fight to beat to a pulp and tear to shreds.

Eventually, her breathing slowed down, all the while allowing Toothless to lick her snout.

He took a step back and motioned for her to curl up around the eggs. Still shaken, Frost complied. Toothless did not leave her, he never lowered his vigil. Frost was not insulted but rather appreciative. She had hoped that she was completely fixed – A dragon intentionally damaging her own eggs was unheard of! – but she was glad that Toothless was bearing with her.

For a time, he had been dependent on Firefly every time he wanted to fly, and every time his artificial tailfin suffered damage and needed to be repaired or replaced. Now was his opportunity to show a similar patience to another. Frost had felt lust for various dragons in the past, passion for a night. Toothless, though, evoked… something else, something more calming and fulfilling and empowering and… everything!

Maybe, perhaps, his loyalty to his rider was not so unreasonable.

########


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Vassilis, captain of the Scale Shedder, hands on the starboard gunwale of his ship, watched the docks of Berk approach. He took deep breaths to keep his knees from shaking as he looked at some of the tribe and their dragons that proved to be as confusing as they were deadly.

He had been first mate hardly more than a week ago, before the dragon riders had sent hundreds of Terrible Terrors to infiltrate the ships on the night of the attack on Berk to chomp on the necks of the captains and commanders. How those dragons had been trained to do so was anyone's guess. No doubt the devil himself was their advisor.

The riders had come up with ear plugs for their dragons that made the gongs and flash-booms so much less effective. In hindsight, it was so obvious! With the dragons as actual dangers, and with the Skrills, and larger dragons knocking into masts to tip the ships, and so many other things that no soldier had ever anticipated, what was supposed to be an easy, crushing victory flipped to a frantic fight for survival.

Vassillis had called for an about-face and retreat when it was clear that this mission was a failure – no point in dying pointlessly – and the riders had been glad to let him go in favor of focusing on those who wanted to fight and die.

That was why he was here, along with his fifty crewmen, to honor those men, a sort of atonement for retreating instead of dying with them. He knew that his God would have them all properly buried, their deeds recognized.

Vassilis had to admit that, back when he was fleeing with the rest of the surviving armada, he didn't have the steel to do this. However, when the offer was extended and admiral Lupus went so far as to threaten anyone who voiced any desire to volunteer to sail back and honor their dead, the course became clear.

It could have all been a ruse, a trap. For all he knew, the Hooligans could have lied about having plucked the bodies from the waters to the beach, but even if this was an elaborate trap, it was worth the chance. It would have been a stretch to think that they would go to all this trouble just to lure one or even a few ships away from the armada.

And that was the real head-scratcher about all of this. Chief Hiccup was willing – he seemed glad – to accommodate such a mission. When admiral Lupus had called for anyone trying to join Vassilis to be run through for treason, when several men were forced to jump overboard or die, Hiccup had his dragons pluck them up to set them on Vassilis' ship. To see such a deed performed, such a risk taken, by the enemy

The hull of his ship lightly thumped against the docks, easily maneuvered in the glassy harbor on a calm morning. Mooring ropes were secured, and a gangplank was extended.

All eyes turned to Vassilis. He held up a hand to those near him. He would risk himself only until he had a better feel for the situation.

Though, nothing that faced him today could feel like so much of a risk compared to that day spent on what was formerly the Greenbelly tribe's island, where that gray Bewilderbeast was killed. The white one had returned and stared down Vassilis and his men as they worked with as much terror as haste to honor their fallen there. There were not that many bodies, so even the repurposed tools on the ship were sufficient for the task.

Hiccup had seemed almost apologetic – "C'mon, Dragon King, that's just mean!" – whenever the gargantuan beast shot up a plume of sand by stomping near someone, or when it shook the entire world with its roar, or when it toyed with the ship as they sailed out, battering the hull with its tusks to rock it back and forth until everyone was bruised and vomiting.

Things could only get better, right?

He walked down the gangplank and took a few steps to face the welcoming party, five Vikings, two Nadders, two Monstrous Nightmares, and a Terrible Terror. The fact that the chief, whose shoulder carried the Terror, had a lost-in-the-clouds smile on his face was very disconcerting.

Hiccup seemed to snap back to reality. "Ah, yes, you must be–" he flicked a glance to the Terror, "Ah, right, Vassilis. You're here to–" his face took on a dreamy look. "Awww, she sighed!"

"Hiccup," a steely-eyed blond woman snapped at him.

Hiccup waved her off. "Hey, if Toothless didn't want me watching, he wouldn't be projecting his sight. Thanks for relaying, by the way, Dart." He looked at Vassilis. "You should see them, though, they're so tender and loving and just… adorable!"

The woman punched him in the shoulder.

"Owwww! Fine, Toothless, catch me up later? Right, so I'm Hiccup, chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe." He gestured to the woman. "And my wife, Astrid. You've met Spitelout and Snotlout already on that…" he sighed. "On the Greenbellies' island. They were good people. And he was a good dragon."

Vassilis found his eyes drawn to a man standing a bit behind the chief, black hair, trimmed beard, and every feature of his face and body and stance screamed of a militant history.

"I assume you must be Tord?" he asked and received a curt nod in reply. "I've heard about you."

Tord scowled at that. "If such talk originated from the vultures who call themselves noblemen, I assure you it's all lies. I tried to warn the people that a campaign up here would be folly at worst and fruitless at best, but they really didn't like someone confronting their fear-mongering about the evil world-conquering dragon folk up North." He rolled his eyes. "God forbid the people doubt them because someone points out that the emperor has no clothes."

Vassilis slowly nodded, not convinced but unwilling to say so.

Hiccup clapped his hands together. "Right, so, uhhh, yes, shovels. We have some. Grab twenty men, then out the harbor and keep your starboard to the shore. We'll have a dragon show you where to beach."

Vasillis nodded and smiled. To be allowed to come in peace and do this was already beyond belief – he had initially made it clear to his men that this mission could be a fatal mistake – but to think that the chief was also giving them tools to use…

"I…" he took a sharp breath. "I thank you, chief Hiccup. I wasn't expecting…" he didn't know how to say it, and he suddenly questioned the wisdom in finishing – or even having started – that sentence.

"Any vestige of compassion or generosity from the evil, ruthless, squat-in-the-mud, demon-worshiping sinners from the Barbaric Archipelago?" Hiccup offered.

Vassilis stared at the dock, unsure how to respond, but it seemed that Hiccup was lost to this world again. "Hey Bud, when's the last time you flamed the eggs? I think you should flame them n– Oh I don't know, i just don't want anything to happen to them. If I was there, I could– yeah yeah, suicide schmuicide, eat my nonexistant tail."

Backing away slowly and avoiding eye contact suddenly sounded like a good idea, so Vassilus turned to the ship. "I need twenty volunteers to carry tools, please."

As he followed his guides forward, Spitelout growled at him. "I'll have you know that the only reason we're allowing this is because it's easier than burning so much filth, and cleaner than leaving them to float on the waves and collect on the beach."

Vassilis swallowed and nodded as he scurried along. He didn't mean to pause at Tord, but he did, sensing the man had something to say, and suspicious that it wasn't just more heckling.

"I don't expect you to believe me," Tord said quietly, "But I will say that I can respect you, as misguided as you've been. Out of the battlefield and into the graveyard, that is no easy path to walk."

Vassilus nodded and swallowed. "Thank you," he meekly said, and he really meant it. Something about that man communicated sincerity in a way that could not be denied.

Tord was right, though, that this would be a gruesome task to perform. The bodies have been rotting for days, and with so few hands to bury so many souls, individual graves would be impossible.

If all were made to drink into one Spirit, then they could share one large grave.

########


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Ragnar dropped off his dirty bowl on a table set aside to receive such. One simply had to follow the Terrible Terrors to find it.

The instant he set his bowl down, a Terror attacked it with gusto, stage one of the cleaning process. Something glinted, and it took Ragnar a moment to realize what it was. A gold coin was clenched in the dragon's claws.

The Terror looked at Ragnar, then noticed his stare at the gold coin. It slowly dragged a tongue across one eye, dropped the coin, licked it, and grabbed it in its teeth before flitting off.

"Do me a favor and choke on it," Ragnar growled in its wake.

There was someone he wanted to talk to, specifically the tribe's chief, and the man was at the head table in front of the large fire pit. Hiccup saw his approach, made eye contact, flicked a glance to his wife at his side, and gestured to a chair across the table from him, a seat that various villagers would take to address their chief for anything from marriage announcements to settling a squabble.

When Ragnar was first shown around the Great Hall by his overbearingly cheerful guide, Tofa, he had learned that the chief's table used to be behind the large fire pit, more out of the way. Stoick, and Hiccup following in his steps, decided to be more in-front and among the people to be more accessible.

"No man who does not daily commune with his people is ever fit to lead them," was a quote that they had proudly repeated. Apparently, when Stoick had first taken over as chief on the day his father died, he was very unabashed in correcting old ways and setting things straight.

"Greetings chief Hiccup, Astrid," Ragnar said as he seated himself in the chair, his motions stiff and formal to hide his unease. Technically, this conversation wasn't necessary at all, but he didn't feel right about leaving things otherwise.

"Ha… rold?" Hiccup half said, half questioned. The young man had been so busy since his return to Berk that he had never spoken to Ragnar before.

Ragnar dismissed that name with a wave of his hand. "Ragnar, if you would, I've learned my lesson there."

Hiccup nodded and gave a tight smile. "Fair enough."

A thought suddenly came to mind. "You take too many risks. Even just letting me sit so close…"

Astrid snorted. Hiccup shrugged. "Firebrand was impressed by how quick you were in the forest a few days back," Hiccup said, "and we know that both of your blades are on your right side. I'm not as helpless as one might think."

Ragnar flicked a hand behind his chair and snatched up a Terror by its tail, holding it up to inspect it as it flared its wings and thrashed around. He set the dragon on the table, and it instantly scuttled out of sight.

He grinned at Hiccup's face that transitioned from shock, to worry, to relief. "So it would seem." Encouraged by the chief's bemused smile, Ragnar said, "And, Toothless," he flicked his head up and left, "I owe you thanks for sparing my life when you could have taken it, back on that ship."

A vibrating warble came from the shadows of the rafters, exactly where he suspected. He could tell, from where the stout rafters faded into the shadows, that it was the most logical place to perch.

"Toothless says 'same to you'," Hiccup said. He grimaced. "Regardless of the motive, you chose not to fill him with dragon root when the rest of your crew was eager to do so. Gods, I was so cocky! So reckless! So many people died because of m–"

Astrid elbowed his ribs. Hard. "Because of what everyone agreed was the best course of action," she sternly corrected.

Hiccup winced. "Yes…" He closed his eyes and let out a long exhale.

"I'm just surprised your dragon isn't with the eggs," Ragnar said casually. "I heard that he'd mated Frost and she laid yesterday."

That dreamy look swept over Hiccup's face. "Vicious was kind to help out so that Toothless and Frost can take turns away from the nest." He grinned. "You know how moms are when they get together. And Vicious and Frost can passively project their senses, so Toothless can still keep an eye from anywhere on this island."

Ragnar nodded. "I'm just surprised is all. It's my understanding that dragons are extremely possessive about their eggs. They seem to be far nastier than normal whenever we find a nest and–" he stopped himself, but too late judging by Hiccup's expression. "Sorry, shouldn't have gone there," he meekly mumbled.

"Frost's maternal instincts have been subdued a bit by your heartless monster of a boss," Astrid ground out coldly

Ragnar shrugged. "Grimmel never was my boss. He was a side gig with his Deathgrippers, an odd sort whose very presence set everyone on edge. I never liked him if it's any consolation."

Astrid was unimpressed.

Ragnar drummed his fingers on the table, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I didn't come here to try to sour your day, but to say goodbye, and thank you. I was lucky to get plucked up by a passing merchant vessel. When I learned that we were stopping on Berk, I was certain that I would either maintain my guise as one of them or die to dragonfire. I was wrong on both counts."

He made eye contact with Astrid and then cast his eyes to the table, a subtle apology to her for his attempt at maintaining a false guise. Said apology was accepted, judging by the minute nod she gave him.

Hiccup nodded, eased a little by the small admission of fault. "You were an experiment. A lot of people died in that battle. We took no prisoners, something that might have been different if Grimmel hadn't managed to snatch me away from the fight."

Ragnar nodded, not quite able to meet Hiccup's eyes. "At that time, I truly believed you and your dragons were a real threat to those I loved, and that this was the way to protect them. Once again, on both counts, I now realize I was wrong."

Hiccup joined Ragnar's stare at the table with a sigh. "And I see that more clearly now. Were I in your boots, if so many people were convinced, it would be hubris to suggest that I would have been wiser. I'd like to learn more about how you mainlanders were allowed to build up this image of us–"

He hummed in thought. "We should ask for some volunteers, send some dragons and riders–"

"No," Ragnar cut him off, ignoring the frown. "There are powerful forces in this world, powerful enough to kill a Bewilderbeast, almost two, and only a few sly tricks shy of wiping you all out… this time. If you try to meddle with these forces, you will be consumed by them."

"Yes, I saw some of the weapons used against us… Gongs, flash-booms, those bigger flash-bang Bewilderbeast killers… Ah!" he snapped his finger. "Cannons, yes."

Ragnar slowly shook his head. "No, Hiccup, I speak of a power far greater and far worse. Men with great wealth and influence, noblemen and deacons and leaders, who want more. They tell the people, "Life as you know it will cease to be in a few years unless you do exactly what I say because of the threat of… oh, let's say Berk and their dragons. Yes, you need me, you need to give me tribute so I can organize a force to save you from destruction, and anyone who says otherwise is an agent of Berk and must be killed on the spot."

Hiccup made a face. "Gods, that works?!"

Ragnar smiled grimly. "With enough clever wording, if you feed a man's fear and pride, you can influence him greatly. I can see how I allowed such to influence me. Dragons are a real threat to people on the mainland – don't think for a moment that this fairy tale you live in can exist down there – and I was proud to fight to sail up here and protect my family by killing all the heathens."

Hiccup clearly didn't like that. "I should go down to the mainland and start talking to people… and…"

He stopped when he saw Ragnar shaking his head. "Trust me, Hiccup, unless you offer something special to those in power – and I doubt you would willingly give them trained dragons to ride – they will destroy you. If not directly, then they will destroy you in the eyes of the people. They could be looking at what any sane person would see as a good thing, and they would still see only a great threat to be destroyed or eschewed. Such is the power I speak of. Just ask Tord about it."

Hiccup nodded, lips pressed, literally biting his tongue. "I will. I appreciate your counsel, Ragnar."

Ragnar nodded and shifted his weight in preparation to stand. "I'll be departing with the merchant ship tomorrow morning–"

"Have you asked about joining Vassilis?" Hiccup gestured to the man on the other side of the hall, the lone representative from his crew who was allowed to leave the beach and their ship to go to the Great Hall for natmal. "They're almost done with their task on Berk, and I talked him and a good chunk of his crew into accepting ten days of dragon training before sailing home."

Ragnar had seen them at work, watching from afar. Such visitors were a curiosity in the eyes of several dragons, a few of which approached them on the second day, earlier this afternoon, to set their claws to the task of digging.

Ragnar shook his head. "He approached me. I wish them godspeed and success in their ventures, and maybe what they learn can be applied in some good way. But it is not for me. I can accept that dragons are intelligent, feeling creatures, and I can see with my own eyes what can happen here. Believe what you will, this cannot happen anywhere else, and I would only harm myself and those I love if I take the chance of getting lost in this fantasy of yours."

Hiccup clearly did not agree, but he could sense that Ragnar had nothing else to say, so they stood together and shook hands. "Farewell, Ragnar. May you have a safe journey home and a happy and fulfilling life. And if you manage to interact with a dragon down there without bloodshed, you would have my thanks, and they would have a safe haven up here."

Ragnar grinned. "Unless it's a Deathgripper."

Hiccup stared at the floor, eyes unfocused, deep in thought–

Astrid rolled her eyes as she punched him in the shoulder.

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Hiccup stood at the docks, one arm holding Jorunn to his shoulder, the other waving cheerily. Ragnar stood at the stern of the merchant ship, waving back. Toothless, on whose head Nuffink sat, let out a roar, and Astrid, whose shoulders carried Zephyr, acknowledged the man with a nod.

An experiment indeed! Hiccup thought to himself. Ragnar had come to acknowledge the intelligence and individuality of dragons, but contrary to expectations, he still didn't want anything to do with them. He had a family back home, and they mattered more than anything else, of course. He would have never wanted to sail up here were it not for a strong conviction that it was necessary to protect those he loved.

That, at least, was something Hiccup could relate to. Even back before he was a husband and a father, he had a dragon, and they could have flown around the world just for fun. See the sights, mingle with foreign crowds, taste exotic foods, meet actual Verangians in Miklagard. Gods! To fly the colossal mountain ranges he had heard about, so vast that they could encircle the entire archipelago, so tall they punched through the clouds. The thought of exploring, to be absolutely free of all people, and responsibilities…

No. He had decided that wasn't for him. He had friends here, family, people he could help, others who could help him. The ability to travel fast and far didn't necessitate doing so, and looking back, he was glad he didn't follow such whims. To abandon the deep roots he had here and become a leaf in the wind would feel fulfilling for a short while, but it would ultimately feel empty.

Hiccup sighed.

He still wanted to do something about the dragon situation down there. Dragons still found quiet pockets on the land to nest in, lashing out at any nearby humans for fear of the humans lashing out at them, each feeding the other's need to fight.

It was something to think about. Maybe Vassilis and his crew would be a good start, enemies coerced into receiving dragon training before returning home and dispersing abroad.

Astrid and the rest started to walk up ramps to the village, some accepting the flight offered by their dragons. Hiccup decided to stay, accompanied only by Jorunn and Toothless, to watch as the ship eased out of the harbor, lit up by the rising sun that had just chased the shadows away.

A roar from above caught his attention. He looked up to see Firebrand leaping from the bluff above to spread his wings and fly out to the departing ship. A quick dive and flare of his wings landed him delicately on the deck. Even from such a distance, Hiccup could tell that alarm spread through the entire crew for the sudden interloper, with the exception of one person at the stern who seemed to be entirely unsurprised.

Hiccup turned to Toothless, worried. "What's going on, Bud?"

Toothless chuffed, unconcerned. {First, they are out of your harbor, so you are in no way responsible for them.}

"But what is he doing? And where is he… I mean why would…"

{Don't forget who, where, and when.}

Hiccup tried to scowl through his grin. "You are officially banned from interacting with Tuffnut ever again. Forever!"

Out on the ship, things seemed to be settling down.

"Oh c'mon, be nice. You've had your fun, now let me in."

Toothless nosed his neck. {You've noticed that Firebrand has become more agitated recently. Pressed with the immediacy of the sea vessen's departure, he decided that he wanted to return to the mainland, and this was the only option aside from waiting for an exceptionally large storm moving in just the right direction to hopefully get him there before becoming exhausted and drowning.}

"But why?"

{He wanted some action. It was too peaceful here. He realizes that leading dragon raids against land-strider settlements wasn't accomplishing anything, so he wanted to fly around to different nests and convince them to change their tactics.}

"And when you talk about him 'convincing' the dragons…"

{The name you gave him was very apt.}

"Ragnar's got to fit in here somewhere, I can just feel it. There's no way he'll end up as Firebrand's rider, unless he's been holding out on me."

Toothless half-roared, half-chortled at that thought. {Twitchy would never ride a dragon, and Firebrand would never accept a rider. However, they have developed a respect for each other to figure out how each can help his own kind act less stupid.}

Hiccup stroked his chin in thought. "Huh, true frenemies, I suppose. But they could have talked to–" He tried to climb onto Toothless' back, but doing so was more difficult without a saddle, doubly so with Jorunn. "We should at least go to them and offer some… advice…"

He stopped at a gentle shake of Toothless' head. The dragon looked back at him soberly as he dropped his belly to the ground. {Twitchy asked me to do a difficult thing, Firefly. He recognizes that this coexistence between dragons and land-striders works up here, and we like it this way, but he is entirely convinced that it cannot happen in his lands, and I cannot disagree with him. So, he wanted to develop ideas without you, and even though he will never be a dragon whisperer, he can understand Firebrand's body language well enough that they can discuss things back and forth.}

"He shared everything with you so that I could understand, but he asked you to keep me out of it until he was well on his way?" Hiccup surmised. The dragon nodded. The rider sighed. "Hey, do me a favor and bring me to Firebrand?"

Toothless nodded and looked at his rider, projecting his senses for Firebrand's sake. "Cheeky bugger!" Hiccup said, though was grinning.

Over the distance, through Toothless, he could hear Firebrand's response. {It takes one to know one, Firefly.}

"Ha… Ha… Just be careful out there. I don't wanna learn that something happened to you, even though you're… you're…" he gestured vaguely to all of Toothless, knowing that the gesture would be seen by the other dragon.

A thought suddenly came to mind. "What about drinking water?"

Firebrand looked over at the supplies that were still being moved below deck, including several water barrels. {Twitchy secured plenty for me. And if I run out, I can always start killing land-striders and drink their blood.}

Hiccup stuck out his tongue. "Ew." Up above, the four adolescent Night Furies circled around, roaring. "Your kids!" Hiccup shrieked. "What about Vicious?!"

Firebrand seemed entirely unconcerned. {My offspring are old enough to scatter if they wanted to. Vicious wants to stay here and support Frost, and she's not looking forward to the situation that I want to fly into.}

"But … but… she's your mate! Hiccup shrieked.

Firebrand was indifferent. {Perhaps you forgot that we're dragons, not land-striders. Besides, the leaves will grow on trees and fall three times before Vicious will want to mate again, which will give us plenty of time to find our way back to each other. Who knows, I may find a new mate, and Toothless may end up with another uncontested mate.}

Toothless growled at that insinuation that Frost was an uncontested mate. He had to overthrow a clever warlord and a bunch of Deathgrippers to keep her, far more dangerous than competing male dragons!

"But… but… but…" Hiccup spluttered. He took a deep breath. Even if he could, he would not stop Firebrand.

"Firebrand, I never properly thanked you for coming up here. If you didn't, or if you refused to carry Tord, we all might have died."

The dragon crooned at that, causing Ragnar to look over and raise his eyebrows from the other side of the ship. {The thrill of the fight was justification enough. And put some teeth marks in Confident's hide. He'll know why}

Hiccup snorted at that. "No promises. You stay safe out there."

{No promises.}


A/N:
Gimme an extra week for the next chapter. Life is getting a little busy.