Dreamer's head spun. This was too absurd, too unbelievable. This was Viggo, there was no way he could be trusted!

He growled to himself and stalked around the upper deck, barely noticing Viggo stepping away from his tail as it lashed from side to side. And yet, the pieces fit. The confusion in the camp, Ryker taking the construction the hunters had been working on, before it was even finished. But then again, it would be just like Viggo to orchestrate all that just to sell the lie.

Back and forth, he flipped between the extremes with every thought, one moment wanting to just grab him and fly him to the Defenders in his claws, the next believing him and wanting to help-

"Dreamer!"

His name cut through his thoughts, and he stumbled, then looked to his friend who had jumped down from the cabin to stare at him worriedly. Wanderer didn't say anything else, just crooned compassion, worry, support.

Dreamer stood there, breathing heavily, his head still spinning, and stared back at his best-friend.

He closed his eyes and took a long draw of the fresh sea air, taking in the salty scent of the sea water, the traces of dirt and rock tracked over the metal of the deck. The wind hummed as it blew over the ship, jostling the sail in its rigging, metal fixtures clicking in their ringlets. The deck of the ship was hard beneath his claws, the stiff and unyielding sensation of Gronckle Iron, and the wind picked at his folded wings.

He exhaled, then studied Wanderer, his big green eyes with their uniquely squared pupils, wide with concern. His long ears that tapered to a point, one of which went up as he tilted his head, so similar to the expressive frills around them. Dreamer was holding his wings higher than him, and let them relax from their tense, aggressive posture.

Appreciation, gratitude, he hummed, then took a deep breath, turned back to Viggo, and sat down. "I distrust you," he growled.

"I do not need a translation for that one," Viggo said wryly. "I assure you, Ryker really is acting on his own, and the hunters on these ships have no orders beyond following me."

Dreamer inspected his face for those subtle tells, so very well hidden but still there to find. But he found only honesty and truth in his eyes.

That still didn't mean he trusted him. "I want take him to Defenders," he announced to the riders.

"That's a good idea," Astrid agreed. "I'm thinking just him… Stormfly can carry him." Something about her tone gave Dreamer the idea he wouldn't be riding on her back.

"I dislike being left out of a conversation," Viggo said in a low, irritated tone. "Particularly when it involves my own wellbeing. I am trying to help you here."

"Sure you are," Astrid said slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell you what. We'll take you to the Defenders and go from there. How does that sound?"

"If you must," Viggo sighed. "We will discuss details later. But before anything can be done, I will need to see the device you stole from me, and all the lenses you have for it."

Dreamer snarled; that was not going to happen.

"The Dragon Eye I get," Astrid said sharply, "but all the lenses? Could you be any more suspicious?"

"Dragon Eye!" he exclaimed. "That is a wonderful name for it. Truly, Vikings have a talent for such things." He winced and tilted his head a little. "Although, for people and places, not so much…"

Astrid groaned. "Stormfly, let's get up there-"

"Nevertheless, it is necessary," he firmly cut her off. "There is more information on those lenses than you could possibly believe, and they are all connected. With my knowledge and your dragons, we can quickly track down the appropriate lens and use that knowledge against the Shellfire."

"Hiccup," Fishlegs said warningly, "that's way too convenient… You can't be thinking about trusting him!"

Viggo turned to Fishlegs with an appreciative smile. "By all means, do not. Trusting me of all people would be the height of stupidity. Take whatever precautions you deem necessary."

Dreamer looked to Astrid, seeing the same conflicted thoughts behind her eyes as well. Viggo was undoubtedly up to something. But on the other hand, he was literally offering himself up with next to no catch. What were they going to do, let him keep sailing? If they'd happened to be raiding this ship and discovered him aboard, they'd probably take him straight to the Defenders anyway. And once there, what could he do?

"Wait, you're actually thinking about trusting Viggo!?" Tuffnut exclaimed from his dragon, still perched atop the mast. "You'ren't serious!"

"Who's Yornt?" Ruffnut asked, confused, as Dreamer leaped back up on top of the cabin.

"Well, I couldn't decide between 'you're not' and 'you aren't'. So I did both."

"Oh, okay," Ruffnut replied blithely. "So, are we related? Is he hot?"

Dreamer shook his head with a sigh, and stared out over the little fleet. He hadn't really been looking before, but there were catapults on them, cleverly disassembled to lay flat on the deck but that could be erected in probably only a few minutes. Each of the other four ships sported two of them, for eight in total. If it came down to it, six of them would fall to Nightstriker fire, leaving only two for the other dragons to handle.

Things started coming together in his mind, conditions that would need to be met. The answer was obviously just that he could not and would not trust Viggo, but then he didn't really need to. Viggo had come to him, in no way did this need to be fair.

He leaped down to the main deck and huffed to Astrid. "We take ships to Defenders."

"Yeah, it's exactly what we've always wanted… He's up to something, I can smell it, we'll just have to be smarter."

"Yes," Dreamer agreed. "I look for sick-making claws." He headed for the hatch and stared thoughtfully at it, thinking of his recent experiment; even if there was an ambush inside one of the ships, he could simply fire and incapacitate everyone at once, albeit including himself, but then someone could come down behind him and easily handle things.

"Alright then," Astrid agreed. "Let's just plan with the assumption he's going to turn on us at the worst moment and go from there. Viggo! Have your men start sailing for the Defenders of the Wing. We're going to search your ships for dragonroot."

Viggo walked to the rail at the edge of the upper deck and leaned on it. "That is fair," he agreed, then leaped down to the main deck. "Though I should accompany you. You may have noticed my men do not always follow my orders precisely when it comes to the wellbeing of dragons."

"You can do whatever you want," Astrid said cheerfully as she walked up to him, then reached over his shoulder and roughly grabbed the sword from his back, forcing him to twist and bow awkwardly to allow her to take it.

"You needed only ask," he grumbled.

"Maybe I preferred taking it," she replied flippantly, then tossed it to clatter to the ground in front of Dreamer.

"I'm all for disarming him, but can we please not goad the evil mastermind?" Fishlegs said meekly.

It was an odd design for a sword, short and wide and with a groove running down the length of the blade and hilt that made it look as if it was supposed to split into two. Six red jewels set into the rounded guard shone in the sunlight, and while it prioritised function, there was a sort of elegance to it.

A tool for hunting dragons. Dreamer growled, then brought forth a stream of fire to melt clean through the guard, quickly separating the hilt from the hefty blade.

"That was my favourite sword," Viggo complained.

"Awww," Ruffnut cooed mockingly from above, "did he melt your best sword?"

"No, not my best," Viggo sighed, "but that one is mostly for show… It always leaned a little to the left. Well, lead on. Unless you would rather I lead?"

Dreamer swiped the two misshapen lumps of metal overboard, then nodded with a chuff and warily followed Viggo into the hold.

The musk of unwashed men was heavy in the air, but his sensitive nose was capable of picking out the subtler scents; a hock of mutton that had been left out, the oil and metallic tang of recently sharpened iron, various leathers and fabrics that made up their clothes and beds. Viggo calmly reassured the hunters milling around, that they could return to the deck soon. Above, Astrid was shouting at someone to change their heading.

Dreamer remained wary of those around him as he searched, keeping his distance from the hunters watching in stunned confusion, and from Viggo who watched him with fascination, but he didn't find anything. Not in this ship, anyway.

If there was going to be a trap, it would be now while he was still within the hold, so he remained extra wary on his way out. But he exited without incident, emerging back into daylight and the fresh sea air. A quick poke around the sleeping quarters, and a few more confused hunters, turned up nothing either. That just left Viggo's quarters.

"Please don't destroy anything else," the man called up as Dreamer leaped onto the upper deck. "I could always have simply let Ryker destroy everything, or even helped him, remember."

Dreamer huffed as he stepped inside. It was more spacious than he expected of a ship, but not by much. A simple bed and desk took up the majority of the space, a chest sat in the corner, and it was otherwise bare. Viggo's scent permeated the room, but simply from his presence rather than the sweat of labour.

But there was no dragonroot. He stepped outside and snorted the scents from his nose, then glanced at the sky. One ship down, four to go. And as much as it made his scales crawl, he needed to go back to the Nest to get the Dragon Eye.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

Breathing heavily, her blood boiling in her veins, Heather parried Dagur's sword and spun her axe around to strike at him with the other blade. She wasn't even surprised that it bounced off the pommel of his weapon, and then she used the handle to block a brutal strike that made her bones ache, and spun it again to try a different angle, exchanging several more strikes.

He was laughing gleefully, as he often did while fighting, keeping her at the verge of panicking and doing something stupid. Something more stupid, anyway. She had a feeling that even if he knew she was doing her best to actually kill him, he would still be laughing, and probably also still fighting with one hand behind his back.

She let another blow glance from her axe, hoping to throw him off-balance, but he followed his sword and then suddenly the metal was pressing into her side. She growled and tightly gripped her axe, strongly tempted to strike him anyway, but she knew he would just block it or even catch it, even if he wasn't expecting it. It was almost as if he wasn't human.

"That was good!" he praised, then sheathed his sword. He wasn't even breathing heavily. "You're still thinking too much. Berserkers normally go the other way, so this is a bit weird for me. You right there sis?"

"Gimme a sec," she growled, struggling with herself. A mix of adrenaline, fear, and rage was coursing through her, and she just wanted to leap onto Windshear's back, fly up to the clouds, and leap off into the sky. But Dagur wanted her to try it his way, which she still thought was nonsense because she wasn't in a 'trance', she wasn't even a Berserker. She would humour him, though, if it kept him ignorant.

"Slow your breaths," he said calmly-

"I said wait!" she snapped at him, and he backed off, holding his hands up peaceably. "You can wait too!" she snapped at the hunter apparently waiting to talk to either or both of them; Dagur had long ago made it clear that nobody was to interrupt their 'sibling' time.

His way did seem to help a little though, so she closed her eyes and forced her breathing back to normal. She felt as if she was suffocating herself by doing so, but she kept at it anyway, until she felt closer to fainting than exploding.

"Well," Dagur said as he looked at her thoughtfully, "I don't think she's going to bite your head off now." He turned to the hunter and folded his arms. "What do you want?"

Heather managed to fold her axe, though her arms were shaking, and waved it at him to proceed.

"Orders from Ryker," the Hunter grunted. "Yer both to go 'ere, by noon. Take yer dragon." He tossed a scroll to Dagur, sneered at Windshear, and walked off. Heather refrained from throwing her axe into his back as he left, even though Dagur would probably approve; he approved of most things she said or did.

"Well that looks like a fat load of nothing," Dagur said, sounding annoyed, as he inspected what was probably a map.

"Let me see." She walked around next to him and he tilted it to show her. A cross was marked in a huddle of sea stacks off to the southwest, not far from a small island where there had been a Dragon Hunter base before the Defenders of the Wing had expanded that far. It actually wasn't all that far from the Defenders' island, maybe an hour's flight.

"Maybe it's a sea battle?" Dagur suggested.

"Maybe…" That was fairly deep in Defender waters though, what they now controlled. If there were Hunter ships there, a battle was inevitable. Viggo had always avoided putting her into those fights though…

"It's coming up on mid-morning," she said, checking the sky, then called Windshear over. "We'd better get going." Why would Ryker have left orders with another hunter to give to her now? And did it have anything to do with the lump of metal he'd spirited away a couple of nights ago? She didn't like this one bit.

Dreamer took a deep breath, feeling the air under his wings and fins. His claws tightened on the bag he was carrying, secured to his foreleg with a thin rope. Viggo's ships hadn't yet reached the Defenders' island, but they weren't far off. His other concern, that he would arrive to find naught but a smoking ruin from whatever weapon Ryker had, was at least alleviated, though it could still happen at any time.

He pulled his wings in and angled his tail to begin his descent to the island, roaring an announcement as he neared. Mala was already standing in the village centre, by the statue of the Eruptadon, waiting for him. She did not look pleased.

"Dreamer," she growled as he flapped into a landing, "I am led to believe you are bringing us Viggo, but not as a prisoner. Explain yourself."

Where was Fishlegs? This would be tedious. HE SAY HE WANT HELP.

Mala scoffed. "I believe that no more than I could move our mountain."

ME ALSO.

"Then we are in agreement. I understand you will not kill, but I-"

Dreamer growled. WAIT. MAYBE GET INFORMATION FIRST.

"Viggo would not willingly turn himself in without some scheme! It is safer if we simply kill him before it has a chance to unfold."

Explaining all his reasoning would take forever. TALK TO HIM FIRST.

She began pacing, staring at the ground. Dreamer watched her patiently until she stopped and turned to face him again. "I have no doubt this is part of some scheme. However… I will trust the wisdom of a dragon. Very well."

He forced back a wince – he certainly wasn't any sort of authority on wisdom, especially not with this, and particularly when he had failed to think so many other things through – and nodded courteously at her, then offered his back.

"You will take me to him?" she asked, uncertain, and he nodded again. "Then we can make a decision before he is allowed to land. I thank you." She strode up, kicked her leg over his shoulders, and then they were powering through the air to the five ships that were just barely visible from the village. Two shapes circled the ships, which transpired to be Wanderer and the twins on their Zippleback, keeping watch.

The flight passed in silence, Mala as always sat bolt upright on his back with her legs firmly hooked under his chest. It was a little uncomfortable, but it felt as if he could buck and spin all he wanted and not be able to throw her off, and she'd already proven capable of maintaining the grip for a short flight.

That grip somehow tightened further as they began descending to the ships, and then she abruptly released it to stand on his back and leap off it, holding her sword to Viggo before Dreamer even hit the deck.

Viggo simply smiled at her. "Chief Mala-"

"That's Queen Mala to you," Mala growled, touching the tip of her obscenely long blade to his throat.

To his credit, he barely even flinched. "Coming from me, that title would be a grievous insult. But we digress. I trust you have been informed of the situation?"

"I shall hear it from you as well," she declared. "I shall then decide in which direction my blade shall go."

"Very well," he sighed. "I was building a weapon to deal with your ships, but upon telling Ryker about it, he took it into his own hands. I strongly believe he is dissatisfied with the damage you and these dragons have done to our operation, and concerned of the risk you pose, and as such has taken it upon himself to simply remove you from the equation."

Mala stared at him, her face unreadable, while Astrid, Fishlegs, and Dreamer watched the confrontation. "Do we know Ryker is acting on his own?" she asked.

Astrid flicked her thumb at Viggo. "We caught him on the way back from hitting a hunter camp we found," she explained, Dreamer's sensitive ears picking out the slight lie in her voice, the minute hitch and tension; Heather had been the one to tell them about it. "Overheard some conversations about Ryker taking whatever they were working on."

"And he did not ask to come here?"

"That was Hiccup's idea," Fishlegs offered.

Mala scowled and pulled her sword back, swinging it around to sheath it in a single swift movement.

Viggo dipped his head gratefully. "Despite your efforts to oppose me, I hold no ill will towards the Defenders of the Wing. My objective is to see people flourishing on these islands, I have no desire to undo what little progress has already been made."

"You would turn yourself in for our sake?" Mala asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Not particularly," he said wryly, and hands went to weapons. "Oh calm down. It is not as if you have left me with a choice. I offered to help, and I will, because what fun is a game without an opponent?"

"But you will not submit yourself after you have done so."

"I would hope to be set on my way after I have assisted in saving your tribe," he said with a smile that slowly faltered as everyone stared at him. "Very well then. Shall we just conclude that this is a temporary truce until I am done assisting you? After that, we shall both return to acting in our own interests."

Dreamer growled. He was giving in far too easily. He sent Fishlegs a meaningful look, then walked up to stand a wing-length from Viggo, rising to his full height, and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Tell me you not have bad plan," he rumbled firmly.

"Tell him you don't have some scheme going on," Fishlegs translated, catching his meaning.

"Dreamer, please," Viggo said somewhat pityingly. "I have many plans. Some of my plans have plans. I am a man of my word, I cannot possibly promise anything so vague. What I can tell you is that without my help, the Shellfire will destroy the Defenders of the Wing, and then Ryker will pursue you relentlessly until he has your heads on his wall. And I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening."

There was a tinge of worry in the way his ears tensed, or perhaps regret, a trace of hope in his eyes… a curl of expectation on his lips? He was also clearly enjoying himself, but there was no hitch in his voice, no processing of false words, no flaring of his nostrils in fear or anger.

Dreamer huffed and backed off, and Viggo relaxed slightly. "Excellent. Now then, is that the Dragon Eye you are holding?"

"Tit for tat, Viggo," Astrid interjected. "First tell us everything you know about this Shellfire."

"If you wish," he said amiably. "It is a massive deep sea dragon, one rarely seen surfacing. I must admit, the idea comes from my departed grandfather, in the notes he left behind. It seemed sound, and indeed, following his instructions, we were able to capture and, in a sense, control it."

"Control it how?" Mala asked tersely.

"Hammers, mostly. Strike it in the right place and it turns, submerges, surfaces… or fires. Accuracy is spotty at best, but its range and firepower are immense."

Astrid pinched her chin. "So if we took out the hammers…"

"You would remove Ryker's control, yes," Viggo agreed. "If you could fight through the thirty or so hunters, likely armed with dragonroot arrows, to do it."

"What's it's shot limit?" Fishlegs asked.

"It has none that I have observed," Viggo said grimly. "That, unfortunately, is the extent of my knowledge. I am hoping it has some natural enemy that will distract it, some weakness you could exploit to unbalance it enough to get in close. Forcing it to submerge before the hunters aboard it can get back inside."

"That sort of thing is on the Dragon Eye?" Fishlegs asked excitedly.

"More than you could possibly know," Viggo replied, his hand twitching as if wanting to reach for something. "Now, as much as I enjoy divulging my secrets, time is of the essence. There is no telling when Ryker will come, or even if he is here already. I know my quarters are cramped, but I cannot imagine you will be comfortable below deck where the crew has opted to remain."

Dreamer eyed Viggo, allowing a low growl to rumble through his throat. Time to do something I've always wanted to do… He walked up to and around Viggo, scenting him thoroughly and sifting through the leather and polished buckles for hidden weapons. At the same time, he checked for anywhere he could be hiding a blade, in case he'd somehow found a way of disguising the scent, but his clothes and light armour were all very well fitted. And then Viggo barely had time for his eyes to widen before Dreamer grabbed him by the arms and hauled him into the sky.

It was a bit of a fumble at first, though there was no real risk of dropping the man, and then he had his forelegs securely tucked under Viggo's arms, and a grip with his hindlegs as well. It would give the man a great view of the long drop he would take down to the ocean if he decided to do something stupid.

Fortunately for him, an hours' sailing was only a few minutes by dragon, particularly by Nightstriker, and very soon they were descending into the Defenders' village on flared wings. Dreamer backwinged to a halt a foot from the ground, dropped Viggo onto his feet, then dropped down himself.

Viggo stumbled forward, but his legs gave out and he collapsed. "Good gracious," he said breathlessly, propping himself up on his side. He then patted himself from legs to shoulders, and slumped. "Some warning would have been appreciated, but I thank you for…" He groaned a little. "...flying tamely."

Dreamer chuffed and waited patiently for him to find his legs. Wanderer initially circled above, but soon dropped down into a landing, where he chuckled at Viggo.

"Psh, you got off easy," Astrid scoffed as she landed, and Mala hopped off from behind her.

"I don't know how you do that every day," Viggo groaned as he stood, teetered a little, then found his balance.

"It's easier when you're on top of the dragon," she wryly. "I know that from experience…"

Wanderer chuckled at her too, and she glared playfully at him.

"Your hunters have been instructed to approach, but not land on the island," Mala advised, then turned and began walking. "Come, there is a suitable room nearby we can use."

"Lead on," Viggo said with a wave of his hand, clearly struggling to keep his balance but succeeding admirably for the most part.

She quickly led them into a nearby hut, where Fishlegs and Astrid followed them in, leaving their dragons and Wanderer outside; the other Nightstriker had never shown any interest in the Dragon Eye before, and apparently wasn't going to start now, preferring to watch outside for threats.

"Wait," Dreamer said to the twins as they made for the door as well. "You should fly, watch for threats."

"You want us to bum around out here while you guys have all the fun in there?" Tuffnut asked incredulously.

"What!?" Ruffnut shouted so loudly that Dreamer had to fold his ears back.

"That's Viggo in there!" Tuffnut continued. "Like, our arch nemesis! All the fun stuff's gonna be happening in there!"

"Yeah! Wait 'till Yornt hears about this!"

Dreamer growled at them, then flicked his head at Barf and Belch.

"Okay fine," Tuffnut huffed, "but you owe us one!" They trudged to their dragon and took to the sky, and Dreamer sighed before turning and walking inside. The room featured little more than a couple of chairs, which had been tossed to the side of the room, and a table, onto which Dreamer dropped the bag he was still carrying.

Viggo stared at the bag gleefully, reaching for it… then when he met no opposition, took it and carefully tipped out its contents.

"...What is this?" he asked curiously, holding up an object made of Gronckle Iron, a frame in the shape of a wedge. One of the bars at the wide end was bent inwards, and jutting off the narrow end was a dome on its side

Fishlegs took it from him and twisted the cap off the dome, peered inside, then set it in front of Dreamer who dribbled some of his plasma onto the sand inside it. Fishlegs then gingerly fitted the cap again, set it on the table, and placed the Dragon Eye in it. Viggo stared at it, then at the projection of a Whispering Death on the wall, then at Dreamer, then at the device again. "This is ingenious," he said bluntly, though strangely, his hand was trembling.

"The Shellfire," Astrid reminded him.

"Ah, of course," Viggo agreed, then pawed through the dozen lenses on the table. "There are many more here than I originally had… You might have even found it already, that would save much time." He extracted the lens from the Dragon Eye and set it aside, then fitted another to it, quickly working through them and separating the collection into the five he'd had originally, the two that didn't work at all, and the remaining five that they'd found on their escapades around the Greater Archipelago.

Those two that refused to work, he stared at thoughtfully, then slotted one back in and deftly tried various settings. "Night Fury fire works on all the lenses except these two," he said with a questioning lilt.

"We don't know why," Fishlegs admitted, "and we don't know what they are. They don't work with any of our dragons."

Viggo hummed thoughtfully, stroking his moustache. "In my cabin, on my ship, there is a translucent rock in the chest. Would someone fetch it for me?"

Dreamer chuffed, eyed him suspiciously, then nosed the door open and emerged into the sunlight. "I need get something from hunter ship," he told Wanderer.

"I come," Wanderer said with a suspicious growl. Dreamer had been about to tell him to stay there, but then again, having someone ensure the hunters didn't box him in would be appreciated.

They made short work of the flight over, as Nightstrikers did, and soon the hunters enjoying the open air and sunshine – one had been curiously watching the island through a spyglass – were watching them warily as they landed on the upper deck. None of their hands went to weapons, so Dreamer ducked inside and located the chest.

Inside, he found neatly folded clothes and various trinkets, all well organised. He didn't really know exactly what he was looking for, at least until he spotted the small lump of Death Song amber. He growled as he fumbled it out of the chest, then had to hold it in his mouth as it was too small for his claws, and leaped back outside and into the sky.

"You find your thing?" Wanderer asked.

"Yes," Dreamer replied, happy the word did not require him to open his mouth.

He beat his wings hard to hurry back, cutting through the air fast enough that it screamed over his sub-wings, then landed right in front of the building and ducked back inside.

"Well?" Viggo asked expectantly.

So glad you asked… Dreamer opened his mouth and let it slide off his tongue onto the table, then watched him expectantly in return.

"Just wonderful," Viggo muttered under his breath, picking up the soggy rock with his fingertips and reluctantly wiping it on his armour; it was actually a good treatment for leather, as Tuffnut had discovered long ago.

"It doesn't wash out," Astrid said with a smirk.

"The trials I am weathering for you people," Viggo muttered, fitting the small rock between the device and the blue light.

"Well, that didn't work," Fishlegs said with a huff when nothing happened.

"It would have been convenient," Viggo agreed, then opened the door and held the Dragon Eye and the amber up to the sunlight.

Dreamer's mouth fell open.

"Death Song," Fishlegs whispered.

"Another wonderful name," Viggo said quietly, staring at the dragon on the wall with its elongated snout, triangular wings with the three big dots on each that looked like eyes, thin and lithe body, and ludicrously long tail. Dreamer wasn't all that upset to see it disappear when Viggo removed the lens, but he did want to know more about it. That would be simple to arrange, they knew where to find a lot of amber but only the corpse of a Death Song.

The next lens was fitted, and a grub-like dragon appeared on the wall. It was difficult to tell how big it was, but it was difficult to imagine it being larger than a piece of fruit.

"This one?" Viggo asked, looking at Fishlegs expectantly. "If I am correct about it, my grandfather referred to it as… ah… 'small dragon that make dragon very angry'." Dreamer snorted in amusement at that. "A way with names, he had not."

Fishlegs stared intently at the images. "If I'm right about it, this is actually something Bork came across… It was in his notes, but didn't make it into the Book of Dragons. He called it a Grimora."

"After the word 'Grimoire', a book of spells, most likely," Viggo said approvingly. "Very appropriate. But not what we are looking for." Dreamer was about to huff in irritation at having his time wasted, but then he had just learned how to read two of the lenses he previously had no knowledge of. "And you do not know why they do not work with Night Fury fire, but the rest do? Normally the dragon's fire, or a close cousin, is required to view a lens. Night Furies share nothing with the rest of them, but these two are different?"

"Death Song and Grimora," Fishlegs mused. "Both have a mental effect on other dragons?" Wait, another mind-controlling dragon? Dreamer resolved to find out about it as soon as all this blew over.

"That is correlation, but cannot possibly be causation," Viggo said dryly. "No matter." He quickly arranged the rest of the lenses on the table and stared at them, tapping the Grimora lens against the wood as he thought.

Dreamer took a moment to reflect on the situation. Here they were, going through the Dragon Eye lenses with Viggo of all people, and somehow this currently felt very normal. He had to remember this man's objective was to rid the world of dragons, he was an enemy, not to be trusted under any circumstance. The irony being that his words were practically dripping with honesty, but Dreamer had a feeling it was in what wasn't being said that the real truth lay.

"The camouflaged dragon," Viggo mused.

"Changewing," Fishlegs offered.

"Changewing. They are a peculiar dragon…" He fitted that lens and brought it up, flicking through a few settings to scroll through the various images, and Dreamer shook his head as he tried to process it all. "Unlike other dragons, they thrive on salt water. See here, this icon," he pointed to a teardrop on the wall, "this is normally clear."

"Argh, why didn't I see that before!?" Fishlegs exclaimed. "Half of this didn't make sense because they're more closely related to sea-"

He stopped mid-sentence, and Viggo smiled widely at him. "Precisely." He expertly adjusted the Dragon Eye, so quickly Dreamer didn't even catch exactly what he'd pressed, and the new image was drastically different to anything Dreamer had seen before.

"That looks almost like a map," Fishlegs mused.

"Almost," Viggo agreed. "I still do not understand the purpose of it myself, but my grandfather used it to track down more lenses than even these."

An intricate web of symbols, seemingly without meaning, but not all of them connected. The one in the centre, highlighted within a hexagonal outline, was only connected to two of the ones nearby…

Viggo and Fishlegs were talking, but the words were blurring together. Sounds echoed in his head, merging into a painful ringing, something he was only just noticing but that felt as if it had been going on for hours…

He staggered outside and nearly groaned in relief as the ringing faded, the general bustle of the village not nearly as offensive to his ears. A wet tongue ran up his neck a moment later, and a purr escaped his throat as a wave of drowsiness washed over him.

"Dreamer," Mala's voice asked gently from behind him, "are you all right?" He turned his head a little and bobbed it in reply. "You look exhausted… Please, rest. Your brother and I will remain here. I must admit, I am not following what they are talking about in there…"

He wanted to argue, to get himself back into the discussion, but he was already curling up against the wall of the hut, and then sleep hit him as hard as if the sky itself had fallen down upon him.

Wanderer stared at the scattered clouds, reflecting on the peculiarities of Long-Paws. They were curious things, capable of being incredibly dangerous without having any dangerous qualities at all.

Even that was true in two different ways. The hunter alpha was not particularly strong or fast, it was unlikely he had much more than the average combat prowess for a Long-Paw, and yet he was responsible for so much death and despair. Wanderer longed to sink his claws and teeth into that smug face, but even that would not stop the dangers he wrought.

Then there was Dreamer. Frail and tiny, he had been the least threatening Long-Paw fledgling Wanderer had ever seen. And yet, that pathetic little creature had reached up and torn him, a Nightstriker, from the sky.

Dreamer inhaled sharply, his breath quickening, and then he sighed heavily and resumed his quiet snoring. Wanderer turned his head from the sky to nuzzle the Nightstriker lovingly, purring at the sensation of soft scales over his face.

His poor little Dreamer had run himself to exhaustion over this hunter alpha, and now that everything seemed to be building to the catch, the end of the long hunt, he'd simply collapsed from the strain. Firelings weren't supposed to be flying and thinking and fighting this much, Wanderer himself had needed to go back to taking naps through the day when sleeping was somewhat more restful.

He sighed and rested his head on the sleeping Nightstriker. He missed seeing him happy. At least this all looked close to being over, and then his Dreamer would smile again…

A commotion pricked at his ears, and he lifted his head to look around. The Long-Paws around him were not behaving any differently, but the sounds were distant, yelling and running. Soon after, the nest-alpha heard it too, looking towards the source of the commotion.

He didn't want to leave his Dreamer to find out what was going on, but from what he understood, an attack was expected to occur at any time, and they did not know exactly how or what it would be.

"What is going on?" the nest-alpha asked as someone ran up to her.

"My queen!" he shouted breathlessly, and Dreamer stirred. "Hunters are attacking the village!"

Dreamer jolted awake, his face twisted as if in pain. "How long I sleep?" he asked blearily, then groaned as he looked at the sky; Wanderer fully agreed, it had been a while but not nearly long enough.

"How did they get onto the island?" the alpha demanded, and the Defender replied with a word that meant he knew but said in a way that implied he didn't. The alpha glared at the ground for a few heartbeats before unsheathing her long claw and kicking the door open.

Dreamer barked and darted around Wanderer and inside, and Wanderer followed for lack of anything better to do. He wasn't overly concerned by the alpha holding her claw to the hunter alpha's throat, though Dreamer didn't look too happy about it. "What have you done?" she asked accusingly.

"I assure you, I have not a clue what you are talking about," he replied, sounding worried and just a little frightened. His words were strange, as was how he said them, but with a bit of guesswork Wanderer could piece them together.

"The hunters attacking us, where did they come from?"

"Hunters?" Despite the claw pricking his neck, he turned his head to the side and looked thoughtful. "Ryker must have offloaded some of the hunters onto the island, though I can only guess as to why."

Dreamer relaxed a little and touched his wing to the alpha's paws, where she gripped her claw. "I trust his words," he said.

The smell-alikes burst into the room a moment later, almost falling over each other in their haste. "Hunters are attacking the village!" Tuffnut barked happily.

"They're doing a hit and run," Ruffnut added. "Firing a bunch of flaming arrows and running off again. Looks like there's two groups of 'em, maybe more."

Wanderer shared a look with Dreamer.

"We hunt," Dreamer growled, took a step for the door, and hesitated. He then turned and pushed the hunter alpha out of the way with a wing, took the 'Dragon Eye' in his mouth, and used a paw to hit the raised-flat-surface with the thing it had been sitting in.

"Ah-!" the hunter alpha got out before there was a loud crack and a flare of light, and the little hole in it went dark.

Dreamer then leaped outside and into the air, and Wanderer followed close behind. "Not wanted leave this with hunter alpha," Dreamer said around the thing in his mouth.

Taking it into a fight was probably not the best idea, but they were only going to be fighting Long-Paws, and if needed he could always drop it. Wanderer huffed and set to scanning the nest as they rose above it, quickly picking out small plumes of smoke and a pile of dry grass that was on fire but dying down.

Dreamer made a small turn, and Wanderer picked out his target in following, a pawful of Long-Paws that looked to have just fired on the nest again and were now running the short distance back into the forest.

Wanderer's teeth slid into his mouth and his claws flexed. They wouldn't get far.

"Just wait here for me girl, okay?" Heather asked her dragon, who seemed to have picked up enough Norse to know what that meant. She had always had a habit of speaking such simple things in Norse, only using Dragonese for more complex concepts. Maybe it had helped keep her sane during those long months she had gone without seeing another human, as nice as it had been.

Windshear crooned, the sound tinged with worry, and Heather stroked her jaw. "It's fine, we'll be back soon."

"He will protect you," the Razorwhip hummed, then nuzzled her face. True enough, she had no fear of Dagur… Not for herself, anyway.

"Mmmmm, I can smell 'em," Dagur hummed gleefully. "They're here. I know it."

"Your Night Furies?"

"Our Night Furies," he clarified. "One each. Can you imagine their faces when we BOTH come home with one!?"

"Not really," Heather replied, sounding a lot more uninterested than she had intended, but he didn't seem to notice. She followed him as he stalked through the trees, hunched over with his arms held out a little. He looked ridiculous, but whatever made him happy. Maybe she could guide him into Mala again and they could finally be rid of him.

He abruptly changed direction and moved a little faster, and shortly after, Heather heard the sounds of conflict from the direction they were headed; he had good hearing, she had to give him that.

She almost walked right into the fight, Dagur dragging her down behind a bush at the last moment. "You're not going to fight?" she asked; it wasn't like him to stand idle while swords clashed.

"Not this one," he growled, and she shivered. His whole demeanour had changed, and for the first time, she felt as if she was not at the forefront of his thoughts. It wasn't something she had thought about, but now that his intense focus was elsewhere, it was obvious.

She poked an arm through the leaves to part them a little and peer through them, spotting three Defenders holding their own against three Hunters. The Hunters were ex-Berserkers, roaring and blustering as they wildly swung their weapons around, but the Defenders were disciplined and fast. They held each other at a standstill, the balance of the fight swaying but not tipping; it would only take one mistake, one clever move, to down any one of them and give a definitive numbers advantage.

Dagur tensed beside her a moment before a black streak crossed the small battlefield, passing a Hunter who then cried out and swung blindly at the empty air behind him. The Defender he had been fighting did not waste the opportunity, lunging forward to stab him-

The bush exploded as Dagur leapt through it, raining leaves over Heather, and he met the Defender's sword with his axe.

Heather stared helplessly as he effortlessly stepped back from a swing, almost casually nudged the sword with his asymmetrical axe, and then stabbed the Defender through the chest with the wicked tip. Watching him, it was as if the rest of the world was moving in slow motion.

"FIGHT me, Night Fury!" he shouted to the forest. "Fight me, or they DIE!"

He had his shield off his back an instant before he disappeared behind a flash of light and a cloud of smoke, and then a black shape sprinted from the trees to leap into the cloud. Dagur was ready for him and threw him off, the dense smoke billowing around them, and then he advanced with a rising laugh that prickled at the back of Heather's neck.

Thump-thump, went her heartbeat in her ears as she watched the two lunge for each other.

She saw it play out in her mind. Toothy or Hiccup, it didn't matter which, would fight Dagur, because otherwise he would kill the Defenders who were just now starting to turn the tide of their own fights in their favour.

The Night Fury would lose. Maybe he would escape, injured and defeated, and then these two Defenders would lose their lives. But maybe he wouldn't escape. Maybe Dagur would kill him.

She remembered when the two had been reunited after Alvin had split them up. She remembered them whimpering in relief, straining for any and all physical contact with each other they could manage.

She saw in her mind what would happen were one of them to die.

Thump-thump

Her axe was in her hand; how it had got there was irrelevant. Dagur blocked her first strike with the flat of his axe, though she had come up behind him, but he underestimated the strength behind it and was thrown off balance. It was only a moment, but there was no hesitation, she flipped the axe open and shoved the second blade under his guard.

She was blocked by his shield, but then Toothy dug his claws into his back and lunged to bite his head off. She watched Dagur duck and drop out of the way, pulling her weapon down so that he could swing his axe and shield around, but she just went with the momentum and used it to drive her leg into his side as he recklessly leapt away.

He touched his axe to the ground and swung his legs to right himself, landing on his feet, and then continued jumping back as Heather and Toothy were both already after him. Abruptly, he planted his feet and leapt forward, keeping his shield trained on Toothy to block any fire and weathering the claws that made it around his guard. Heather spun her weapon, but she was suddenly finding it very unwieldy, too slow when collapsed but without enough weight while unfolded. The strikes she landed were light, drawing blood but achieving nothing else.

Toothy lunged at him with a snarl, then flinched as Dagur threw his axe at him – Heather immediately swung her own, scoring a good wound down his arm, but then he grabbed the long handle of her weapon at the same time he planted a boot on Toothy's head, and kicked off. Toothy was sent staggering back as Dagur's shoulder caught her midsection, and then he was running, taking her with him.

He had a solid grip on her weapon, and she could not yank it free, so she struggled and beat his back and tried to elbow the back of his head, but he didn't stop. She couldn't see Toothy, he didn't seem to be following.

Dagur spun and shoved her into a tree, holding her there by her sternum and keeping her axe still with his other hand. She swung a leg up to kick at him, but he caught it under his arm. She instead kicked him in the chest with her other leg, though he didn't react other than his mouth moving a little.

He was saying something, she just wasn't hearing it. But she recognised the word. "Breathe," he repeated. "Just breathe. Slow."

What caught her attention was the eerie lack of emotion in his face. He was just staring at her, devoid of anything. "That's it. Breathe. And brace yourself."

If he wanted to kill her, he would have. Maybe he wanted to talk before killing her. Regardless, she had no hope whatsoever of succeeding on her own. She needed to think…

"Breathe." His pointless breathing exercise. Fine. Maybe she could play this off somehow. She forced her rapid, tense breaths to steady, to slow down. Her head spun with the effort, but she had done it before, and kept going through the motions.

She felt something, a mound she had to overcome. That was new. She hit it and nearly slid right back, her leg tensing to kick him again.

He dropped her other leg, and that mound shifted as her body moved. It was disorienting, but in the spur of the moment, she pushed past it-

And cried out in the agony that washed through her, arms and legs shuddering with the sudden pain. He let her go and she collapsed to the ground, no longer concerned with managing her breathing but just sobbing and trying to survive whatever was going on with her body.

"It's okay," he said quietly, crouching next to her. "It's okay, it'll pass. You're fine. Mostly. You will be fine."

What did all that mean!? She cried out again as her right arm throbbed, feeling as if it was about to explode, her legs felt torn apart, as did her abs, her back, her neck, everything…

She didn't know how long she lay there, sobbing into the dead leaves, but Dagur didn't say anything beyond that. The pain didn't fade, but it settled into a constant level that she slowly became accustomed to. There were explosions in the distance, deeper than Fury fire, but at the moment that was the least of her concerns. "Wh-what?" she stammered.

Dagur held up her axe, and she stared at it. One blade was missing entirely, and half of the other had snapped off. The shaft was also bent in several places. "That, was a Berserker trance," he said quietly.

"I… I don't… understand," she wheezed.

"I've been a Berserker all my life," he told her. "I've never seen anyone turn on another Berserker like that." Some emotion finally entered his expression, that of sheer confusion. "Why…?"

"I… can't do… a trance…"

"You're a Berserker," he said slowly, as if she was stupid. "You're my sister."

What did it matter anyway? Maybe he would put her out of her misery. "How do you figure?" she gritted, the side of her face still pressed to the ground. "My mother died long after yours. You called her a hag. You're deluded."

He stared at her, wide-eyed, his mouth open. "I… Heh, you… She…" He fell back onto his rear, the picture of shock.

"I've been playing you," she growled, seizing the rant to push through the pain. "You think I'm a dragon hunter? A mercenary? Viggo is evil. Dragons are kind, intelligent creatures, people! The Furies are people! They love each other more in a day than I've seen in my entire life! And you, you… tortured him! And he doesn't even care, the only reason they're trying to kill you, only you, is because you're insane and won't stop hunting them!"

She cried out again, unwilling and possibly even unable to move anything, to do anything other than lie there and wait for him to kill her. Please, make it quick…

The end did not come. She was still in agony. She looked up at him to find him staring at her in confusion and despair. Finally, his gaze dropped to the ground. "I thought you knew," he said quietly. "I wasn't exactly going to call you half-sister."

The words struck at her like lightning, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. And then she gasped as her whole body throbbed, though it was barely enough to distract her from the groundbreaking revelation.

Dagur stared down at her for a long moment. Then he stood, took the shield from his back to drop it to the ground, and slowly walked off into the forest.

Author's Notes

Admittedly, I'm a little surprised nobody really dug into Heather's and Dagur's relationship. Why does he think they're related if he knows they don't share a mother? I received a few theories (always fun when you guys share those ^_^) but nobody pointed out the inherent paradox in Dagur's logic. You guys are all just assuming he's insane, aren't you? xD Tut tut.

Though, I do admit that this story is quite involved at the moment, there's a lot going on. I'm not going to apologise for it, but I didn't really plan for it to get quite this complicated. Viggo just kind of got away from me, he's really fun to write. I promise everything after this act will be more straightforward.