Dreamer landed, feeling twigs snap and leaves crumple under three of his paws. He blinked, and looked down at the fourth leg, at the Dragon Eye tightly bound to it.

The rest of him was feeling just as numb. How was he supposed to feel? It was times such as this that he realised his sense of what was right and wrong was so very skewed. Dragons were pragmatic, Viggo's existence did not benefit him and was no longer detrimental, so it was almost irrelevant. Vikings were prideful, he had earned honour with his sacrifice and that was only to be respected.

Neither dragon nor Viking was how he felt. And then there was the even more ambiguous quandary over the Death Song, which he'd been a little too preoccupied to think about at the time. Dagur had let one go, and now Viggo had killed one. But what was the right course of action? It ate other dragons. Killing it had saved lives. But it was only surviving itself, simply part of the natural order. Were he to kill them for what they were, that would make him the monster.

A firm nudge on his shoulder reminded him he was on the ground, in the forest near where they had set up camp. He didn't feel on the ground. He felt as if he was dreaming, floating weightlessly in some imagined scenario where he'd defeated Viggo and obtained the Night Fury lens…

There was a tugging on his numb foreleg, followed by a snap, and then cold, prickly sensation crept down to his paw. "Come," Wanderer crooned, then nudged him until he started walking; his foreleg was uncomfortable to walk on, but it was a distant, unimportant discomfort.

Wanderer led him to where they had slept the last two nights, under an overhanging rock surrounded by bracken and thorny vines near the top of a hill. Worry, strength, he crooned, and Dreamer hummed back appreciation. Wanderer then nuzzled him, the Dragon Eye still in his mouth, and tipped his head towards the main camp with a questioning rumble.

Fishlegs would be ecstatic… but it still needed repairing, everyone was busy with preparations for the next day, there wasn't a suitable work area to handle lots of small parts to repair it, the air was wet with the coming rain they were planning the battle around… As much as Dreamer wanted to dive into the contents of the lens immediately, it had to wait. Until after tomorrow.

He huffed and took the Dragon Eye from Wanderer, holding it lightly in his teeth, then set it on the ground and curled up around it, resting his head on his hindleg and tucking his tail over his shoulder and down his back. He shuffled for a slightly better view of the long approach up the hill, then stared vacantly down at where various leaders were conferring over last minute information and finalising strategies. He should be down there…

"Rest," Wanderer hummed. "You not need be there."

"I should be there," Dreamer grumbled. "I sleep some, then go…"

His friend nuzzled his head. "They need learn also. Not need you for all things. Rest." He then pulled back, stared at Dreamer for a few moments, and took wing, lazily gliding down the hill and leaving him alone.

Dreamer blinked heavily, tightening his paw around the Dragon Eye and settling his wing over his head, cloaking himself in darkness. He would just sleep for a little while, then make sure everything was going smoothly… He had a long night ahead of him, so would need to sleep at some point today anyway.

He hadn't really expected to drift off. But despite the morning's events, as the first of the rain pattered into the leaf litter, he did manage some fitful rest, dreaming of knowledge and strange secrets…

The day dawned to a misting of rain, having long since quenched the scattered fires on the island near Krogan's fleet. It was already bereft of wildlife, trees, cover, and fresh water; no dragon would see it as an appealing place to rest. Krogan was no longer interested in it, and looked out over the prow of his ship, towards where they would be going next.

Of more concern was the irregularities in his forces. Most of the Hunters recruited from the native Vikings by Viggo were missing, which was not unexpected; his own men had orders to put down any such deserters. But the speed at which they had vanished, and so many of them… Could this mysterious Chief, deposed and insane, have had anything to do with it? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps the tribe was mad as well. And then there was the matter of a number of his own ships going missing; enough that he would lose his own head if he returned with anything other than a Næturlansa. Whatever this was, it was targeting Viggo's inferior Hunters, and perhaps his own were getting caught in the crossfire…

Heedless of the chill, Krogan stared through the drizzle. He could still see quite a distance, the light of dawn cut through it as he would cut through this archipelago, but not far enough to be certain of a strong hunch he had… "Call in the men, we set sail immediately," he announced, trusting that someone behind him will have heard; there would be consequences otherwise.

He leaned on the rail, gripping its thick boards and peering through the water falling from the sky, through the strange glow given to it by the sunlight. He knew there was something out there.

The most recent development was a number of his own flyers going missing in the immediate area throughout the night. Næturlansar were dragons of night and darkness, and what else would be hunting him specifically? Perhaps they had not taken the bait he had laid out for them, he hadn't heard anything on that front yet, and were coming to strike at him directly. Foolish, of course, not even they could sink this particular ship, and there were far too many in the fleet itself to whittle down without exposing themselves.

Whatever the case, this rain offered a fair amount of cover, even for a fleet. It offered just as much to the dragons, but he had his own dragons, about… eighty of them, discounting the ones he'd sent to the trap and the few he'd lost last night.

The ship lurched as the sail dropped, and started to pull ahead of the other ships in the fleet. But he could make out movement on their decks below, and knew they would be moving in short order, a harder target to strike at.

It wasn't long before a Singetail came in for a landing, dropping onto the deck behind Krogan and making that strange modulating growl. "Control your beast," Krogan snapped at the rider.

"Of course," the man replied hastily, yanking on the chains until it quieted. "Sir, enemy fleet ahead, big one, in battle formation. Visibility too low to get a count."

"Why didn't you say so?" Krogan demanded, thinking the rider could do with some chains yanking on him as well. "Go get a count. Make it snappy."

"Sir!" the man shouted, though his voice wavered, and he was off. He probably wouldn't be coming back, showing weakness like that, and that was fine. It was one flier, and there was no room for weakness in his army.

Krogan took a long, deep breath, savouring the anticipation. "Prepare the weapons!" he shouted. "All flyers ready to fly immediately!"

A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead, momentarily drowning out the racket of preparation behind him. This rain wasn't going away any time soon. Not that it was a disadvantage…

He watched over the water as his ship cut through it, waiting, while the sun rose behind the expanse of clouds overhead and the day became darker. A fitting omen for his enemies, either the paltry 'Defenders' or the local Vikings rising up against him; it didn't matter which, they would be crushed underfoot regardless.

It wasn't long before this other fleet came into sight, vague square silhouettes just above the water. They slowly took shape as the two fleets advanced on each other, there looked to be maybe fifty ships but many of them were much smaller than his own. At a guess, they had half the number of men. Pitiful. "Flyers at the ready," he ordered; just because he would crush them easily, did not mean he would go easy on them.

More wings flapped into a landing behind him, larger than the scout's earlier. "Orders, sir?" the head flyer requested.

"In the air and engaging the moment the ships open fire." They would be beset upon from two directions, one of which being from above. The rain made it impossible for any fires to actually catch though… "Aim for their long-range weapons, pull their teeth." Not that he expected more than catapults.

"Sir," the man acknowledged, then took off to prepare. He was Krogan's favourite subordinate, very efficient and no-nonsense. Had he been told to get a count of the enemy ships, he would have come back to say that there was no fleet, because he would have just taken a squad of his men and sunk it; perhaps not in this rain, but still.

The deck shook with a loud rumble as two immensely heavy objects trundled up on either side. "Ready to fire," one of their handlers announced.

"As soon as they're in range," Krogan ordered without looking back.

These were new innovations, provided to him for the promise of Næturlansar on his return. The demonstration had been incredible, and he was immensely looking forward to seeing them used against an actual target. He only had two, but this was the only ship big enough to use them anyway.

The two fleets slid towards each other, until Krogan could just about make out the crests on their large sails, clearly that of what these people called a 'Skrill'; like the Singetails, he had no name for it in his native tongue. There was some delicious irony there…

Two deep and thunderous explosions sounded to either side, kicking up two sprays of water amidst the opposing fleet. And then a horde of dragons took to the sky from all across him, the sound of flapping wings momentarily drowning out the rain.

Even were these ships here to beg forgiveness, they would get no mercy, but to his satisfaction that didn't seem to be the case. A few boulders were slung into the air, primitive catapults, but they fell well short of Krogan's forces, arcing down harmlessly around the cloud of fliers. Pathetic.

But then, unexpectedly, the enemy fleet became obscured in motion, an odd darkness that took Krogan a moment to recognise as dozens of dragon riders of their own, many more than the three or four they'd had so far. But they were clearly undisciplined, while Krogan's fliers were arranged in ordered ranks, and hopelessly outnumbered. There was no hope for-

Two lights, like little balls of lightning, lanced out of the gloom above and detonated in the midst of the flyers, scattering them and sending several tumbling out of the sky. Krogan grit his teeth as the aerial battle devolved into utter chaos, no longer clear on which side had the advantage or what types of dragon were falling. He did spot several of them pull out of their falls and rejoin the fight though… while others simply flew away. Hmph. If they could not win with such an advantage, they were worthless. His fleet alone would easily dismantle theirs and ground their pathetic riders.

As he thought that, the two cannons fired again, and two of the opposing ships simply disintegrated into clouds of splinters with a flash of fire. Krogan smirked. They had two Næturlansar, but he had two immensely more powerful weapons; even their fire could not obliterate a ship from prow to stern.

"Reload faster," he ordered, intent on destroying as many ships as possible before they reached the range of more conventional weapons. He had been expecting his flyers to whittle them down first, but that clearly wasn't going to happen amidst the barely-visible tangle of claws and fire that had erupted over the water.

"Sir!" someone shouted, racing to the front of the deck.

"What now?" he shot back irritably, but then the cannons fired again, reducing another ship to splinters, and his mood improved somewhat.

"Behind us! More ships!"

Krogan whirled, wondering what in Helheim his scouts were doing to miss fleets coming from two directions – before remembering they had been going missing all night. Now he knew why.

"You think you're clever, do you," he muttered at his opponents, going back to staring at the fleet ahead of them. "Do not stop," he ordered. "Go straight through them, do not let the ships behind catch up."

"Sir!" came the response, and the Hunter left to distribute the order.

Krogan smiled to himself. "Let us see how far that cleverness gets you…"

Dreamer pivoted and dropped in the air, narrowly avoiding claws raking just shy of his tail, then caught the errant gust of wind he had sensed and shot off with it to grab another Singetail rider and rip him out of the saddle. He held his screeching fire in his throat near enough to constantly, owing to the focus he was given by Krogan's riders, and was pulling out every flying trick he'd so much as dreamed of in the intense melee the battle had become.

There was another thunderous clap from below, and the echoes of another Berserker ship disappeared from the water. He frantically looked around, but still couldn't see the source of the attack, no dragons or anything around there.

He spun upside down and tilted back, using both gravity and the air to yank him away from the clutches of yet another Singetail, turning his escape into an opportunity to help a rider by clawing at the Singetail bearing down on them. He did his best to check the enemy fleet in the process, but the rain was too heavy to-

Another pair of dull thunderclaps from below, and this time he saw the brief flashes of light from Krogan's vessel, the great big one near the head of the fleet. But how…? There was no projectile! He had seen and heard nothing-

He sharply tucked and dove, having misread one of the Singetails around him that had rolled and banked in an unexpected way, and suffered a gash down his tail for his inattentiveness. He snarled, the wound flaring sharply with each twitch of his tail, then let out a loud, angry bellow and darted out of the fight to climb into the air.

The sounds of the fight behind him shifted somewhat, the Hooligan riders all attempting to disengage and flee. They did their best to cover each other, but Dreamer winced as he picked out a few clusters that resulted in more Singetails than friendly dragons. Casualties were a part of this, he knew that, and those falling in battle were more than willing for such a fate, but it was still painful. This was not why he had worked so hard for peace between man and dragon…

The details blurred into obscurity behind him as he climbed, the flock moving back towards the allied fleet. He could hear Wanderer's fire shrieking as well, somewhat out of range of his own echoes; the rain was dampening the sound, so that was not as far as it usually was.

Judging himself high enough, he tilted his wings, letting them tip him head over tail as they braked against the wind, then rolled upright as he fell into a dive. He let his throat relax, his sub-wings picking up the shriek, and hurtled back down towards Midgard. The Singetails pursuing the riders stubbornly held to their course, though their only real options were to pursue or flee, and neither would save them.

Making the internal adjustments to the composition, he shaped his plasma, took aim, and fired a big concussive shot right into the middle of the group. It overshot a little, but it still worked to spook the Singetails, which screeched and bellowed as they fell out of formation and, in some cases, out of the sky. Wanderer would be ready to follow up, but Dreamer didn't see any good targets for him, so he wisely saved his fire.

He had used two shots, and had two left to spend on this battle, plus one more as a last resort. Wanderer had only used one shot, but still, Dreamer was wary of spending any more fire on these damned riders, and so threw himself back into their midst with a vengeance.

If only he could talk to them! But that was pointless distraction, they wouldn't listen and were conditioned to obey their riders. And that was where they were failing, because they were not cooperating, each rider and dragon acting as separate-

The arms of the catapults twitching below was the only warning he had of a rock suddenly rising up to meet him, though once his momentary panic was over he realised it hadn't really been that close to hitting him. This battle was making him so jumpy-

Another ship below him violently exploded, not dissimilar to being hit with Nightstriker fire, or perhaps filled with Zippleback gas… That made sense, actually, some sort of projectile that contained something explosive, similar to how his fire worked, but launched by some other means… The flashes of light from earlier suggested by more explosions, but that seemed absurdly dangerous.

"Go!" someone shouted from the back of a Nadder pulling up alongside him. "We go' this!"

Dreamer snapped back into the moment and looked around with both eyes and ears, thinking it was anything but under control. Then again, these Vikings were fighting, happy in their element, and the dragons seemed to be enthused as well given how many were zipping about without riders.

He let out a sharp bark and angled away from the fighting, swooping and rolling around the few Singetails that came after him, then poured on the speed once he was clear. Wanderer caught up and crooned to him, and he chuffed confidence in reply. This was more or less going to plan, they just needed to take out these-

The weapons fired again, and Dreamer growled angrily in their direction, signalling his intent. They both climbed back into the air, even higher than last time, the figures below them blurring into indistinction through the rain and then disappearing entirely. High into the sky, they turned and gave a flap of their wings, falling in sync with each other. They matched the rain falling with them too, a bizarre sense of the streaks of water having frozen around them…

The three fleets echoed in Dreamer's mind a few heartbeats before he could see them, and he quickly adjusted his dive accordingly. Wanderer fell in to his right, so he focused on the weapon to his left, which he assumed were the big long things that echoed much more clearly than anything around them. He accounted for the ship's movement, then quickly built a shot and fired it.

In the time it took for it to streak down to the ground, Krogan's enormous dragon leaped up and took Dreamer's shot to the back, though it appeared unfazed. Viggo had described it as shaped like a beetle, which certainly matched the outlines he could see and hear of it.

Wanderer's shot did connect, but appeared to do little to the weapon itself. Dreamer thought he had a bit of an understanding now, a thick chamber to contain an explosion that pushed out a projectile at immense speed… Ingenious, but that chamber had to be strong. Stronger than Nightstriker fire. They couldn't destroy them…

Though as he surveyed the imminent battle from above, only one of the weapons fired again, the one protected by the armoured dragon which was now standing next to it. Hunters were fussing over the other one; maybe it was broken after all, it was difficult to tell from this high up.

Boulders were sailing between the two fleets now as well, though they needed two or three good hits to effectively sink a ship. Dreamer winced as another ship spontaneously disintegrated; compared to that, throwing rocks at each other was almost childish.

But the battle had not yet started in earnest. Krogan's fleet was big, but it was faced with a blockade of the most fearsome Vikings of the Archipelago, and chased by the most skillful warriors Dreamer knew of. The hunters still had a numbers advantage, somehow, but Krogan seemed to be almost relying on that alone. Viggo was ten times the opponent you'll ever be…

The aerial battle very suddenly went still, the Hooligans riders having been gaining the advantage increasingly quickly as it went on. They didn't seem to have lost that many either, though a large number immediately headed back for the boats at the back reserved for the dragon riders. Dreamer also spotted a flash of silver returning to the head of the Berserker fleet, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he supposed Dagur and Heather could take care of themselves, and wished luck to any Singetail trying to fight a Razorwhip out of the air.

Everything was going well. The two fleets were moments from crashing into each other, with the Defenders right on their tail.

Krogan's giant ship pulled a little ahead, and the fleets entered arrow range-

A veritable hail of arrows and heavy ballista bolts erupted from the sides of Krogan's ship, from both the deck and the sides of the hull, and Dreamer looked away. He had one task left to perform in this fight, but the rest of it was human affairs that did not concern him; they couldn't, otherwise he would feel responsible for everything going on down there. He was merely… ensuring a favourable outcome, mainly for the dragons but also for his home and the other villages.

He would not have handled Viggo like this. But Viggo was not a power hungry warlord, and Krogan had given him little choice. He had come here for war, and would have received it one way or another; in truth, Dreamer's only real involvement had been to help liberate the Singetails, and he was finding he had little investment beyond ensuring Krogan lost.

He grimaced at the distant sounds of splintering wood, then forced himself to look down again, to observe the battle being carried out and determine when the last play could be made, to take down Krogan and his warship.

That enormous ship was in the process of cleaving straight through one of the Berserkers', planks of wood and the mast splintering and ripping apart before being shoved underwater or cast aside. The warship barely even slowed down, and its weapons were firing near constantly at the ships around it, clearing paths for its own fleet. They appeared to be trying to break through the Berserkers, which might have worked… except they were up against Berserkers, so that was possibly the worst course of action they could have taken; the men of the scuttled ships were simply climbing up onto whatever they could and starting a slaughter if they found enemies.

It was time. Dreamer roared, a deafening sound that echoed over the fleets below. A small squad of dragons immediately took off from the Defenders' fleet, a Monstrous Nightmare, Deadly Nadder, Zippleback, and Gronckle, and Windshear's distinct form was not slow in taking off from a pitched battle on the Berserkers' side. Dreamer shared a look with Wanderer, who chuffed confidence, and then they both folded their wings into a dive.

A peal of thunder sounded behind him as he fell, its echoes giving way to the twin rising shrieks of diving Nightstrikers, but interestingly he did not draw the attention he had expected to. Rather, he, Wanderer, and the other dragons were all given an easy path straight onto Krogan's ship, where they all dropped down heavily in front of the man himself.

Dreamer had not seen Krogan before, but he was difficult to mistake. He snarled at the man, Wanderer and the other dragons adding their own instinctive dislike of him; his eyes made judgement on everything they landed on, his nose was perpetually upturned in a condescending sneer, and his posture and slow movements just exuded dominance as if he owned the world itself. It was startlingly clear that this was not a man who could be reasoned with, and Dreamer would not try… but, again, his involvement here was more to see this through than exact a sentence.

"It's over, Krogan," Astrid shouted as she leapt from the saddle, Mala jumping down behind her. Heather and Dagur dismounted Windshear, Snotlout and Stoick from Hookfang, and Fishlegs and the twins from their own dragons with several veteran Defenders between them; sixteen fighters in total, plus seven dragons, against one admittedly very large ship.

"My, my," Krogan said haughtily. "Here you all are, in one place. Why, that just takes all the fun out of it."

"Ugh," Dagur grunted, "boooriiing!" In the time it took Dreamer to blink, he shot forward like a bolt from a ballista-

And had to backpedal from the enormous dragon that thudded into the deck in his way, covered head to toe in spiked armour and with a pointed maw baring long, needle-like teeth. Its head was probably only a bit bigger than Dreamer's own, but it looked small on the giant creature. It did indeed look much like a beetle in shape, at least from the front, with two long horns protruding from the top of its head and a third from its nose. Defiance, dominance! it roared at them, its eyes glowing murderously through the holes in its helmet while the small team spread out, shields up against the various weapons aimed at them by the numerous hunters on the deck, at least those not still firing into the battle around them.

"Really," Krogan continued, walking across the deck, "I am impressed you made it even this far. Næturlansar really do live up to their name…" He gave Dreamer a possessive look that sent chills down his back. "But I am afraid only the strongest will win this fight, the one willing to do what it takes to win!"

He flipped his axe from his back – a short axe blade on one side and a series of straight blades protruding from the other, with an absurdly long spiked and studded handle – and drove it into the deck, using it to haul up a large section…

A deep hiss from inside had Dreamer backing up in worry, a sound that tugged at his memory and instilled a deep dread in him. The other side was thrown open of its own accord, towards the group, and a long, thick talon reached up to hook over the edge.

Krogan smiled triumphantly, pointing his axe at the group, and the hissing started up again, like an axe on the grindstone. A second talon hooked over the edge, this one accompanied with the dark wing it was attached to, and long, dark spines began to rise up out of the hole.

Both Nightstrikers fired at the shape as it emerged, giving it pause… and then the head of the Skrill emerged from the hold and shrieked at them, drowning out Krogan's laughter with the grating metallic sound. Wanderer fired again, striking it square in the face, and it fell back down into the hold.

Dreamer held his very last shot in his throat to reveal the immediate area, noting the battle around them had started in earnest, everyone fighting off the various hunters and their weapons; as he 'watched', Windshear threw herself in front of Dagur to take the brunt of one particular weapon that seemed to fire about twenty arrows in a single shot, and he then darted around her to cleave the weapon in half with his axe and its wielder in half with his sword. Dreamer could not see into the pit, not more than a murky idea of its depth, but Krogan was still smiling smugly from the other side of it, his dragon lumbering up beside him.

"Was that what I thought it was?" Stoick asked quietly, and Dreamer nodded with a grunt. Which proved to be redundant, because right about that point the air started crackling-

KA-!

Dreamer shrieked, backpedalling and stumbling over himself in his blindness. He couldn't see anything, in either sense, his vision obscured by a searing white scar and his ears ringing dully, to say nothing of the immense pressure in his head. He could do nothing but wait impatiently for his senses to return.

The sounds of fighting slowly penetrated his haze, punctuated by a short crack, crack, crack… Dreamer shook his head, blinking to clear the haze and rain from his eyes, then finally made out his sire taking on the Skrill in a vicious melee. But every strike and block was accompanied by a flash of light, and he was slowing down.

"Wanderer!" he barked, then shook his head with a growl and rushed forward, driving his shoulder into the Skrill's chest and forcing it back a step; his hide tingled with the contact, but it wasn't strong enough to do more than that to him.

It snapped at him – and then a cold dread ran through him as a crushing pressure caught his hindleg, feeling its teeth slowly piercing his hide. There was no time for thought, just action, and he used some of his spare air-fire in a stream at the Skrill's neck. In the same heartbeat, an explosion rocked it from the other side, and it let him go to rear back with a shriek.

"You good?" Wanderer barked, bounding up alongside him. Dreamer chuffed, gingerly testing his leg against the ground and finding it sore but functional, just a surface wound.

The Skrill snarled, flaring its wings, and the air suddenly felt odd against his scales-

Remembering from last time, he darted to the side a moment before a lightning bolt flashed across the deck and over the battling fleets, being sure to close his eyes and ears this time. It was still such an assault on his senses he almost thought he'd been hit, but it cleared more quickly this time-

In time to see the Skrill lunging at him! He hopped backwards, then jumped and took to the air; it would either follow or not, but either way, a Nightstriker had an advantage in the sky.

He spared a glance back, then worked his wings a little faster at seeing it in ardent pursuit. And then remembered to hold his fire, because this rain was messing with his sub-wings and preventing them from making the requisite sound.

Nothing happened. His fire was making the right sound, but his ears were still ringing. On top of that, he only had one shot left, his reserve, while Wanderer had nothing. And of course, by design, they had attacked during a storm, if thankfully only a minor one. Nothing is ever easy…

Stoick grunted as the Night Fury streaked past him and barged into the Skrill, then wiped the rain from his brow and spared a glance at the rest of the fight. It was utter chaos, the big armoured dragon barging across the deck with Dagur on its head, beating its helmet to apparently no effect, and hunters everywhere.

A twinge of pain had him lift his axe hand to inspect it, peering through the water slicking it and finding red marks dotting the back and his knuckles. His index finger had a round black wound just below the first knuckle. None of it was serious, but his arms were spasming and unbelievably cramped-

"Pathetic," came a nearby voice, and Stoick just got his shield up in time to block a surprisingly heavy strike. He wasn't expecting the instant followup, and grunted again as the spiked hilt of the weapon drove into his sword arm. "At least put up a fight, that way I might be forced to give you a quick death."

This man talked too much. Stoick bunted Krogan with the shield to put some distance between them, to give himself just a moment to stretch his arm. Krogan landed in a low stance, letting his grip slide towards the end of the long handle of his bizarre axe, then swung the weapon in a wide arc, putting his whole body into the swing; he was wide open, but protected by the sheer reach his weapon suddenly gave him.

Stoick blocked it with his axe, as his shield wasn't in position, and was almost thrown off balance at finding that the end of the weapon was apparently weighted. He at least managed to avoid further injury, then stepped in closer with a swing of his own axe.

Master was fighting.

It was not unusual for Master to fight, but it generally did not last long. It was not possible to win against Master.

The Long-Paw that Master was fighting looked strong, very strong. He was built like the strongest of hunters, rippling with muscle and a good layer of fat, and his face-fur was impressive; he likely tended many females in his nest. But he could not win. He was too slow. Master was much faster, had more reach, more strength behind his strikes. Master would win. Master always won.

A shake of the head, resettling the heavy armour, did little to ease the discomfort it caused, but it was a familiar discomfort. That discomfort brought strength, so it was endured. Strength was everything. Master knew that, embodied that.

With a snort, he resumed his rounds around the floating-thing, unstoppable strength and crushing weight sending those before him fleeing if they did not want to be crushed. Except for one Long-Paw, which had jumped onto his head, clinging to the heavy armour on it. He snorted again. As if it could do anything wherever it was.

He ignored it, slowing to a stop, then turned to find a Spine-Tail burning more of Master's things. He roared and charged at it, quickly picking up speed, and it just barely got out of the way in time.

The flimsy trees surrounding the floating-thing shattered as he bulled through them, into open air, and threw out his wings. He was heavy, but not too heavy to fly, and turned into a wide bank.

An annoying ringing sound stopped, something he had been putting up with but that was a relief to not have to deal with. Instead, he felt something touch his wing, where the shoulder was exposed. Instantly, he rolled in the air, and the pressure went away.

He arrived back on the floating-thing, thumping down… and stared at Master, and the one he was fighting.

Master was moving desperately, moving his big painful stick with evident haste to put it in the way of the big round claw the big Long-Paw was swinging at him. He wasn't attacking with the stick, just using it to stop himself from getting killed.

Attack, haste! Master barked at him, and he roared and charged right at them without hesitation. They drove each other apart at the last moment, one of them bouncing from each of his shoulders as he bulled through.

Attack! Master barked again, and he turned to find him pointing the big stick at the other Long-Paw, who was warily getting to his paws, watching him and Master carefully. They were both bleeding a lot, but Master was bleeding more, and one of his strange forelegs was limp.

Master always won. Master did not need his help against anyone. Master used him, but did not need him.

But Master needed him now.

And yet… there was something wrong with that. Master was telling him to defeat this Long-Paw. Why? Master could not, and he himself could not defeat Master, so what chance did he have?

He did not throw his weight and strength around blindly, that was more dangerous to himself than anything else. He needed to know where he was, where he was going, where he would stop, and everything along the way.

Attack! Dominance! Submit!

Master shouting at him was a concern; this hesitation would be punished later. But still he stood there, staring.

Something about his thinking was wrong, and he needed to know what, however desperate Master was getting…

Desperate. Master was desperate. Master needed him.

He snorted. His Master did not need him.

Claws dug into the dead trees, and powerful legs pushed him forwards. The one who was not Master suddenly looked fearful, eyes and mouth widening in the heartbeats it took him to cross the distance and impale him on his horn.

The big painful stick bounced off his head and hit the ground, and he threw the one who was not Master aside. For good measure, he then reared back and stomped on him, cracking the flat trees beneath.

He stepped back, snorted derision at the corpse, and turned to the one that had been fighting the one who was not Master. The one who had not needed his help. The strongest one.

Master could not be defeated. But his Master had needed him to fight. That made him stronger than Master. That made Master not his Master.

He bowed, extending his wings, while the one with the impressive face-fur stared back at him with wide eyes. Master.

Dreamer panted, water streaming from his face, and took a moment to survey the battle below. It was difficult to see details through the rain, but most the dragons on the deck of Krogan's ship had moved along the deck, indicating they had taken ground. There was a sort of battle line he could see along the water too, and the bulge that had been around the warship had lessened somewhat, so it seemed its influence on the battle was waning.

Seeing everything was going well down there, he brought his attention back to the Skrill, the vague shape in the air ahead of him. He wished he could say it was going as well up here. This Skrill was wild, without an armoured Dagur hanging onto its back, and seemed right at home in the windy, rain-streaked storm. The only consolation was that it was using its lightning sparingly.

The winter had not left as much snow around as usual, but he was definitely feeling the cold now. It ate into his hide, gripping his muscles, particularly in his wings, numbing them to the delicacies of advanced flight.

He snarled in aggravation and flapped a little harder, wishing it had vulnerable tail-fins he could slash or something.

But thinking about it, the ideal scenario would be to drive it off, not ground or kill it. He didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to manage it, given it was outflying and outshooting them, but he had a numbers advantage to work with.

Wanderer banked sharply and the Skrill followed, Dreamer cutting the corner to come up alongside it. Ideally he would drive it off, but it seemed Hel-bent on attacking them, and he was not the naïve dragon of a few years ago. He could respond in kind, when there was no other choice, and extended his claws as he aligned himself with its wing…

It dropped away at the last moment, and he narrowly avoided a spread of lightning by anticipating it and angling sharply down and away.

He tried holding his fire again, but his sound-sight still wasn't working. That was immensely worrying, because he no longer knew where it-

A spread of lightning blossomed from the sky above him, outlining a dark silhouette within it, and Dreamer's heart went cold.

He shrieked, pumping his wings to reach the plummeting shape, and grabbed onto Wanderer's limp form as he tumbled through the air. His own wings steadied them, but they were still falling, and quite a way from the fleet. Quite a way up too, so he could make it…!

But height meant distance, and he would not be able to pull up from a full dive. He grit his teeth, then held his fire in his throat again, finally finding patchy sound-sight with some relief. The Skrill was bearing down behind him, but he couldn't do anything about that, and just focused on guiding their descent towards Krogan's ship, the largest landing area, as best he could. He remembered getting hit by that particular shot, and doubted Wanderer would be swimming any time soon, especially not in that icy water.

The Skrill loomed behind him, flashing in and out of sight as it drifted easily around the currents that battered him. Wanderer pawed at his leg, but he ignored him. The deck neared. He didn't know which was going to reach them first, but unless there was some miracle… Desperate, help! he roared, approaching the big ship a little faster than felt safe, the Skrill reaching forward with its large talons behind him. He held his last shot, knowing it would only distract it a moment-

Something big appeared out of nowhere and collided with the Skrill, knocking it away. He saw its maw open, felt that oily slick in the air – no! He craned around and fired right at its open mouth.

The Skrill fired.

An immense explosion erupted between them, and Dreamer shrieked as it caught his wings the wrong way and he dropped Wanderer-!

His side slammed into the deck of Krogan's ship, driving the air from his lungs, then battering him as he tumbled. Nothing felt broken by the time he rolled to a stop, but he needed more than a minute before he could fly again. Wanderer was nearby, and echoed his pained whimper.

He yelped as something crashed into the ship between them, half-disappearing into the crater it made in the deck. The twitching wings and tail of the Skrill jutted out around what looked like a boulder, and then went limp.

Ally? Enemy? Dreamer's head swam, dark spots creeping across his sight, and he was suddenly more preoccupied with just staying conscious. When it finally cleared, he opened his eyes to find the distinct silhouette of his sire leaping from the tangle. Ally, then.

That was good. There were no sounds of fighting. He wasn't safe here, but he could no longer fight the darkness clawing across his mind.

Mala spun as something impacted the enormous ship with enough force to rock it, and easily picked out the large misshapen form that had to have caused it. That didn't make it any easier to identify.

"Report!" she ordered into the hatch.

"Fire's getting out of control," Astrid called back. "I say we let it go!"

"I'm hearing 'burn things'," a grating, undisciplined voice called from out of sight, "and I can't agree enough!"

"Resistance?" Mala asked.

"Trying to douse the fires," Astrid replied, briefly followed by the sound of combat. "Might not sink," she added a moment after it subsided, "but they're out of the fight."

"Hey," the grating voice called out, "watch this!"

An explosion rocked the ship, staggering the Defender with Mala, and movement caught the corner of her eye which, when she looked, appeared to be chunks of the hull flying out across the water.

"Oh yeah," Astrid said dryly, "it's definitely going down now. Odin, you two, show some restraint!"

"Retreat for now," Mala commanded, then turned and strode to the mystery object that had embedded itself in the deck. As she went, she looked out over the fleets, seeing with satisfaction that the Berserker ships seemed to be overpowering the hunter ships in most cases, with her own smaller ships coming in behind and shoring up any holes in their offense.

She also eyed the remains of the many weapons along the rail of the warship she was on. They no doubt would have ensured a far less favourable outcome had they been left to more conventional tactics.

The thing in the crater on the deck turned out to be a dragon. "What is it?" she asked Stoick tersely, who was crouched over nearby.

"A Skrill," he replied. "You know dragons? Please, help me!"

His tone caught her attention – it seemed highly out of character for the stalwart man – and walked over to see what he was doing-

"Ah-!" she exclaimed as she saw what he was hunching over, and quickly dropped down on the other side of the Night Fury. Her fingers were wet and numb, as was everything in this Thor-forsaken rain, but by cupping her hand over his nose she could feel his hot breath, and it felt steady and even. "I think he will be fine. But we should get him somewhere warm and dry. Is it over? Where is Krogan?"

"Over there," Stoick said dryly, waving a hand back towards the aft of the ship, "around that area."

"Dead?"

"Very."

Mala exhaled, then internally startled at suddenly finding the second Night Fury hunching over the limp one, his big eyes looking sad and his snout twitching. "He will be fine," she assured him, putting a hand to his head. He closed his eyes and briefly nuzzled her, then stood and limped around a bit to put a wing over his brother.

Stoick blew out his cheeks and sat back, then idly adjusted his helmet. "It's over," he said while Mala looked around.

"Have you seen Dagur?" she asked him. "I must thank him, he took an arrow in my defence during the fight."

"Hmm," Stoick rumbled, looking thoughtfully over his shoulder at the Skrill. "He was on Skullcrusher, last I saw him."

"Skullcrusher?" Mala echoed. She was at least semi-familiar with all the dragons' names, and that wasn't one of them.

"It seemed fitting. You asked of Krogan."

"...Ah." That seemed about all she could say about that.

"As for Dagur, he might have been thrown off over the water. Don't worry, that man doesn't stay down."

"I will thank him later," she decided.

"Chief!" Astrid called out, running across the deck towards them. "Below isn't clear, but enough of it's on fire that anyone inside is being smoked out."

"Good work," Stoick praised her gruffly. "We're leaving. Can you and Snotlout take one more passenger?"

Astrid put her hand to her hip, leaning on one leg. "What kind of passenger? Chief, if you're talking about the Furies, they're a bit big for Stormfly now, even just to carry to another boat. I'm not sure about Hookfang."

"They are injured," Mala supplied, "and clearly in no shape to fly. We must do something."

"Skullcrusher," Stoick called out, and part of what Mala had assumed to be the Skrill stood up and walked towards him.

"Krogan's dragon?" she asked uncertainly, then made some connections. "Krogan's own dragon…?" It had been a terror for much of the battle over the deck, charging through the fights and trampling two of her Defenders.

"I know as much as you," Stoick said solemnly. "But," he said to the dragon, "that is behind you now." He grabbed it by the helmet, and, though it tried to tug away, pulled the armour from its head. "You don't need this any more."

It was strange, to see such a big dragon shying back, particularly when all but its head was covered in dark, jagged armour. "Oh you are beautiful," Mala stated, walking around the Furies to get a closer look, though she didn't try touching it. The big dragon regarded her, its angled head looking nothing as bug-like as its body and helmet had suggested and its eyes gleaming with intelligence, then seemed to settle a little, allowing Stoick to find the relevant latches and then heave the plate off its back; the deck shuddered as he dropped it.

"Chief," Astrid said slowly, "are you sure?"

"I looked at him, and saw myself," Stoick quoted with a chuckle; Mala recognised it with a smile as one of the more memorable lines of Hiccup's Saga. "Come on big guy, got a job for you…"

The war against the hunters was over. At last.

It still didn't sit right with Dreamer exactly how it had concluded, but he didn't see any other way it could have gone. Still, it was a bit give and take. An alliance had been established with the Defenders and Berserkers, who would assist in ensuring no more hunters would ever establish a foothold in the area. He was getting the impression there was a sort of rivalry developing between the two tribes.

And if he looked at it a little sideways, he could convince himself he had more or less the ideal outcome with Viggo, and Krogan had been an entirely new fight, one he and Wanderer had been less involved in. That made him feel a little better.

The Berserkers were busy hunting out the rest of Krogan's forces, though many of them seemed to have turned back towards wherever they had come from. That just left a couple of loose ends to tie up.

After a few days of resting on the ship, he and Wanderer crept out at dusk and took flight, back the way they had come. It took only hours to traverse the distance the ship had covered. It wasn't quite to the battlefield they went, but to a small island a day's sailing from it.

The moon shone through scattered clouds, over the ash-streaked land below them. A recent light rain had smeared it down the little valleys through the contours of the land, giving it an interesting marbled appearance, though it was still sad to see so much destruction.

Wanderer crooned unhappily, and Dreamer hummed back reassurance. His friend wasn't yet in fighting condition, but they were once again full on fire, and the night shrouded them. Still, he wasn't expecting the hunters to have hung around after the Dragon Eye had been taken from them.

He brought his wings in a little and looked intently for signs of activity over the island as he descended, but all was dead and lifeless. The mouth of the cave loomed over the beach, devoid of hunters or anything, so he landed and approached warily. It wasn't until he shaped his fire and barked through it, reigniting the layout of the tunnels in his mind, that he relaxed and trotted inside at a leisurely pace. He was alone.

Even though he knew it was empty, it was eerie to be in these tunnels again, when he had been racing through them for his life only a few days ago. The wind whistled in the distance behind him, but the air inside was calm and still, the torches having burned out, even his quiet pawsteps echoing in the silence.

His unerring sense of navigation easily brought him to one particular spot, so deep in the caves he needed to light his mouth to see by. The scent of blood here was heavy, and he picked out Viggo's scent among it.

A lot of blood, enough to have been lethal, but no body. He hadn't expected the man to have miraculously survived, but still… At the very least he had wanted to pay his respects.

He let out a low, sad howl with a questioning lilt. There was no reply. He made his way back to the surface and howled over the island, but there was still nothing; as if any survivors wouldn't be sheltering in the caves.

With a sad sigh, he turned tail on the place and met up with Wanderer, wordlessly aiming for their next destination, to retrieve the Dragon Eye from where he had hidden it. The other lenses had been recovered from Krogan's ship, but he still hadn't told Fishlegs about the new lens yet. Let it be a surprise, so he would not be so impatient.

Because if he was as impatient about it as Dreamer felt, they'd struggle to get anywhere.

Astrid gawked as they neared Berk, at all the changes. A bit difficult to make out, all covered in snow as it was, but there were at least as many dragons again as the ones flying with them. They huddled on houses, walked the paths with the people, and flew overhead, all seeming just a totally normal part of life for the village.

There was some major construction at work as well, clearly started after the winter storms had died down, building up on some houses and even entirely new ones further down the treacherous slope of the islet. This was in addition to several finished extensions she spotted.

Stormfly dropped into a landing in the village square, in front of the blacksmith, as did the rest of her group and Stoick himself on his own dragon. The other riders, new riders that had been slowly developing their skills while she had been away, instead spread out through the village, probably landing on or near their own houses. For them, it had only been a few days.

For her, it had been a year since she'd even seen the village, and half of that again since she'd lived here. She had to admit, it was good to be home.

"Astrid!" a familiar voice called out as she dismounted.

"Dad!" she shouted happily, racing to him and jumping into his waiting arms. They held each other tightly, just enjoying the hug in silence.

Shortly after it had started becoming awkward, he held her at arm's length and just looked her over. "Yeh've grown so much," he said softly. "No longer mah little Valkyrie…"

She smiled back at him. "S-...omeone told me before we left that as long as you think you're an adult, you aren't," she said sheepishly. "I think I get that now… So much stuff out there made me feel like just a little kid…"

He chuckled. "Yeh don' stop gettin' tha' 'till yer dead. Th' world is bigger than we are."

"Starting to talk like that is a sure sign of getting old though," she teased.

"Feelin' old is a sure sign too," he quipped, strangely awkwardly. "Come. You should meet your brother-"

"My what?" she interrupted, trying to back out of her first step to follow him and almost slipping over.

"-and your sister," he finished casually, as if he had just announced what he'd had for breakfast.

"My what and what!?" But… Well, clearly he'd taken another wife.

Wait, no… the times didn't add up. He hadn't mentioned this last year… She huffed. "And when exactly were you going to introduce me to your ladies?" she asked, seeing the pragmatism behind it but still unsure how she felt personally; the village needed people, and Stoick had been talking about arranging some families, but there were suddenly four more people in her immediate family.

"Just as soon as you'd stopped stressing about it and could give them a fighting chance," he laughed.

She punched him, putting to work the training she'd had over the winter to use her whole body for the motion, and he almost fell over. "Thor almighty, girl," he grumbled, rubbing his arm, "where'd yeh learn ta hit like tha'?"

"Just something I picked up," she said lightly, then jogged past him. "Come on! We've got to reestablish who's where on arm wrestling, and I'm a whole winter behind you guys!"

Life promised to be very different from now on… but that was nothing compared to her life so far. After everything she had done, there was no challenge she couldn't-

"Wait," she said loudly, sliding to a halt, "Stoick's not going to try to set me up with someone is he!?"

Spitelout watched the incoming dragons with his arms folded and a frown. The Night Furies circling above were easy to make out, and there was a cluster of dragons descending to the square that fit the boat; a Nadder, a Gronckle, a Zippleback, and a Nightmare.

The Nightmare landed in front of him, and his son stared down at him from the saddle. After a moment of silence between them, Snotlout jumped down and stubbornly squared his jaw.

"Boyo," Spitelout greeted him.

"Dad," he replied tersely.

"Heard yer some big sho' rider now," Spitelout said casually.

"That," Snotlout agreed, nodding and folding his arms. "I am also a Viking."

Straight to it then. He had sent Snotlout out to learn, in the only way Snotlout could be taught. Nearly two years since he had seen his son; he unfortunately hadn't grown much taller in that time, but he looked a bit more manly at least. Time to see what he had figured out. "Are yeh now?"

Snotlout puffed out his chest and put a hand to the handle of his axe, which looked to be that new Gronckle Iron stuff. "I am," he declared.

"Uh huh," Spitelout grunted, unconvinced. "An' wha', exac'ly, is, a Viking?"

Snotlout's dumbfounded expression was all the answer he needed. "Thor almigh'y, boyo…"

"Here," Dreamer advised, delicately prodding a claw at the spot Viggo had shown him on the Dragon Eye, on the jaw of the dragon embossed on it.

"Oh yeah," Fishlegs agreed, "I see it." He easily slotted the pin in and gave it a firm tap with the hammer-

Dreamer turned away, unexpectedly perturbed to the point of feeling ill. The hole was right on the weak spot of all known dragons, and being a dragon, watching a thin piece of metal be driven into it, even if it wasn't a real dragon, was highly disturbing. He looked around Fishlegs' hut to try to settle himself, at anywhere but the big desk in the main room they had been allowed to use for this very important purpose.

"Oh wow," Fishlegs said quietly, oblivious, and Dreamer gave himself a shake to look.

The bottom half, the throat and belly of the dragon, had come loose and slid out from the dial and head of the dragon figure. It was just as Viggo had said, full of tiny parts and intricately assembled. Dreamer could make out what looked like some latches and switches, things that catapults made use of, but could only guess at the functionality of any of it; not helped by that he had no idea what made the lenses actually work, and thus what the Dragon Eye actually did.

Fishlegs was no engineer, but he was a scholar. A large piece of paper set up beside him with a big outline of the Dragon Eye on it started receiving sketches as parts were removed and set around similar notes. It took time, but was detailed enough that even Snotlout probably could have reassembled it. And this had to go back together.

Finally, about thirty tiny components in, they were able to extract the pin. That was less than half of the parts in the device, by Dreamer's guess, and he had to wonder how such a thing had ever been designed in the first place, and again, why. Could it have anything to do with the secret Viggo had mentioned?

The old pin replaced – there was a strange crust on it where it fitted to the dial, and a noticeable bend – and the new one in place, they began the arduous task of reassembling it. Dreamer had never wished for hands as much as this point here, with Fishlegs'... large fingers struggling to fit bits into holes and even just handling some of the smaller pieces, those that couldn't be handled easily with the tweezers they had to work with. On more than a few occasions he insisted on double-checking something was fitted properly, sometimes finding it hadn't been right, but after what seemed like an eternity, the case was finally fitted back together.

"Care to do the honours?" Fishlegs asked wearily but proudly, fitting a lens they had for testing and offering the Dragon Eye. Dreamer snorted – as if Fishlegs could test it himself – and lit his fire.

He was only marginally surprised that it worked on the first attempt, given they had, by his guess, spent about three hours ensuring it had gone back exactly as it had been. And then he squeaked excitedly, and barked towards the open door.

Wanderer entered, looking a little sceptical but genuinely excited for once, holding a small pouch in his teeth.

"What's going on?" Fishlegs asked, then took the pouch as Wanderer offered it to him and peered inside. "Wait…"

Dreamer yowled impatiently and nudged his elbow.

"How long have you had this!?" Fishlegs asked, though he fitted the black lens with haste. Dreamer just snorted and lit his fire, and Fishlegs pointed the Dragon Eye to the opposite wall-

The wooden surface erupted into detail, the clear image of a Night Fury in the centre… but around it was like nothing he'd ever seen, packed full of various symbols to the point they were almost touching each other. Fishlegs twisted the dial…

And with every click, a new set of images flashed up, each different and unique. "Odin's word," Fishlegs whispered. "It's… full! Every single…" He started pressing buttons, kept rotating the dial, but whatever he did, there were more incomprehensible diagrams and symbols. "Wait, what would…"

He held the device up to check the position of the dial, then set it and set the buttons on the back. "I wonder what…"

When he held it to Dreamer's fire again, both their jaws went slack. It was the map of lenses Viggo had shown them before, how they were connected.

But, looking at this, that couldn't be right. The highlighted lens sat at the top of the diagram… and it was connected to every single lens under it, what had to be over a hundred symbols.

"Hiccup," Fishlegs said, sounding as in shock as he did excited, "we could spend lifetimes going through this and not know everything. I mean, maybe if we knew what we were looking at, but so much is different. This lens… it's changed everything!"

"That's exactly how it happened, I swear it!"

It was a wonder the man had returned at all, as frightened as he clearly was. But there were all sorts of people. Many just needed to be ruled by someone, couldn't contemplate making decisions for themselves.

"Stand, and quit your grovelling," Drago ordered quietly, adjusting his grip on his bullhook, and the man scrambled to comply. "This failure lies with Krogan."

He then grunted, having nothing further to say on the subject, and the man was escorted away.

Krogan really had been only a fool after all. A passable strength of character, but with high expectations of those around him.

But people were weak. Demanding strength from them was akin to trying to bleed a stone, just something they weren't capable of. Being strong meant understanding that, but Krogan had often confused others' strength with his own.

Drago had no such illusions or expectations. He knew exactly what he was capable of, and had a good sense of what others were capable of too. He had hoped Krogan would learn, and sent him to handle the bounty of dragons to the west as a test and learning experience, but that had turned out to be a mistake.

But Krogan had sent some dragons back before getting himself killed, which had helped immensely in the short term. The rest would breed, and be ripe for the taking when he reached that area.

For now, it was less dragons that he needed and more iron and men. He swung his bullhook over his head with as loud a shout as his broken voice could manage, then slammed the tip onto the iron rail of his ship. The enormous chains trailing into the water slowly went taut, and the ship began to move.

One day, he would find the ones that had stood up to Krogan, and he would break them. This was inevitable. His will.

He stared over the water, at the immense chains pulling the ship towards new seas to conquer. It was their will.

(( HHOwYqxBbWU ))
Where No One Goes

Author's Notes

And thus concludes act 2. Everyone has grown a lot, if not as much as hoped for some, and we now have some epic mysteries to unravel. Yet another adventure to get swept up in for act 3!

Additionally, I have posted a side story, a collection of odds and ends that don't fit into here for being deleted scenes or for some other reason. The first entry goes back to the very first chapter of AGoW, providing an entirely new perspective on events. It's not necessary to read, but I guarantee you'll see things in a different light afterwards. You'll find it on my profile.

Lastly, this is a fun time to hit 200 favourites, right at the end of an act! I didn't really have any thoughts on how popular this story would be when I started it, but I admit I am impressed with the following it's garnered. Looking forward to getting the rest of it out to you guys! =D