Chapter 11

The Secret Comes Out

Berk Woods

"There! There's the fire!" Batwings called, pointing to the column of smoke rising from the horizon, like a black sea stack from an ocean of green. "Set me down nearby, please."

The Gronckle he was sitting upon growled something in dragonspeak, to which Batwings nodded agreement. It looked like the forest fire was dying down after several days of burning. It had turned a fair-sized portion of the otherwise pristine woodland into a smoke-grey blemish. As his mount began the descent, Batwings started to discern details from the mass of grey: skeletal trees, ash-covered boulders, and the occasional animal corpse, all disguised amidst the blackened soil.

He hopped off the Gronckle's back and thanked it by giving it the fish from his pack. Not long after taking the food, it spread its wings and snarled, glancing around the area in suspicion. Batwings understood its meaning right away. Be wary. Something nearby. Not a dragon.

"I'll be careful," he assured the Gronckle with a pat on its snout. "Thanks for the help. Don't stick around if it makes you nervous."

Even as the buzz of the Gronckle's wings vanished over the treetops, Batwings scanned the ruined area with a critical eye. Although most of the fire had burnt out, small flames still lapped along the ground in places, using up the very last of the fuel this wasteland had to offer. The flames' dull orange was made bright by the contrast of their slate grey surroundings, indicating a landscape sucked dry of life. Fortunately, the clearing wasn't so large that Batwings couldn't see the intact conifers on the other side.

I have no idea what I'm doing, Batwings reflected, frowning at the devastation all around. This was the most logical place to start investigating, but I have no idea what caused it… let alone whether it's the same thing that infected the Nadder.

If the Gronckle's instincts were to be trusted – and a fellow dragon's instincts were always trustworthy – then the creature that started the blaze was still in the area. All the Siren had to do was find it, a notion that made his wings twitch. In fact, he was already getting a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, like something was watching… no, getting closer…

He whirled around, just in time to see an azure, lion-like beast stride through the smoke. A Lunastra, its coal-like eyes already locked upon him.

For a single second, Batwings was rooted to the ground, wide-eyed with horror, wondering what on Thor's green Midgard an elder dragon was doing on Berk. Then that second passed, and Batwings' screaming instincts spurred him into the air with a chaotic flailing of limbs.

Normally, the Siren found flying in this form uncomfortable. The human body wasn't built with aerodynamics in mind, and it took a lot of effort to keep airborne without plummeting like a stone. But, with panic filling his mind, Batwings' fear became strength that powered his wings enough to lift him above the tree line. Despite the accomplishment, he soon realized he was far from safe, and almost lost his balance when he heard the Lunastra pursue with a thunderclap of muscle and leather.

Over the forest Batwings struggled: terrified, barely in control of his flight, pursued by a fiery beast that wanted him dead. Great gasps exploded from his mouth as he fought to keep his breath. His body swayed and wobbled, dangerously close to losing the limited aerial control he had. Already his wings burned with effort as though the Lunastra's fires were consuming them. He felt the rising heat prickle his neck and dared not look back, already imagining the monster's fangs snapping at his boots. The thunderous beating of its wings filled his ears, drowning out the wind that tore at his face. And with every passing moment, the agonized screaming of his wing muscles intensified, telling him that he'd reached his limit.

Gods, I'm gonna die, Batwings realized, horrified.

Then, he spotted from the bottom corner of his eye a glint of sunlight amidst the dark trees. He swiveled his head in that direction, and his heart gave a tremendous leap when he saw what lay below. Water! Underwater, he would be safe. An elder dragon of fire wouldn't swim after him. He could hide until it gave up the hunt

Batwings folded his wings and dove, hearing the SNAP of the Lunastra's fangs rending naught but air. He willed himself to shapeshift, the tingling rush of transformation sweeping through him. His dragon form wasn't any better in the air than his other one, but he hoped that he could take advantage of his increased weight to out-speed his pursuer. Already, it was working – the Lunastra's heat and wingbeats were soon replaced by the wind, which filled his ears and sliced under his scales.

The lake rushed up to meet him, and Batwings plunged into the cool depths with a colossal splash and roar of bubbles. He twisted and rippled his body in the comforting pool, his pulse slowing and muscles relaxing as he got used to the familiar liquid environment. He studied the water's surface as he waited, but there was no sign of the Lunastra. With a flick of his tail, he ascended just enough to poke his snout into the air, seeing nothing but blue sky and high canyon walls.

He'd only just reached shore and reverted back to human form when he heard the Lunastra's screech overhead. By reflex, he glanced up…

…and met the flabbergasted eyes of Hiccup Haddock, who sat atop a black, cloaked, eyeless beast that Batwings could not name.

Docks

When Berk finally appeared on the horizon, Stoick felt no relief. Well, there was relief in the sense that all his warriors were making it home safe and sound – but for the Chief, there was only exhaustion and shame. It was a sensation that, to his regret, was not alien to him, as he experienced it every time he returned from an unsuccessful search.

Yes, the monster nest was as elusive as ever. Stoick and his men (and women) hadn't even managed to penetrate far into Helheim's Gate. Monsters had descended upon them in such numbers that two of the three ships had been destroyed, even before he could give the order to retreat. And now here the Chief stood, awaiting return to port from amongst a crowd of Vikings packed onto a single ship like tuna in a net.

It was fortunate that everyone had returned with their lives intact… but in these circumstances, Stoick wasn't known for dwelling on the positives.

A crowd of villagers were gathered at the docks when the ruined vessel drifted into port on half a singed sail. Stoick was one of the last to step foot on Berk, Gobber's firm hand pulling him onto the dock. His one-armed friend gave him a sympathetic smile, but Stoick didn't have the heart to return it.

"I, eh… trust ye foond the nest, at least?" the blacksmith prompted.

"Not even close," Stoick growled. He heard Gobber sigh, and, with less of an edge in his voice, added, "I hope you've had more success than me. How is the training going? And the Siren – has he honored his word?"

"Relax," Gobber chuckled. "The dragon goes oot every mornin' with Bucket and Mulch. Oor fish stores 'ave never been fuller. As fer trainin', the young'ins are makin' good progress – just a few more lessons before we choose one ta kill the Teostra. Oh, an' by the way, yer parenting troubles are over."

The last remark hit Stoick like a Gravios tail, halting him in his tracks with confusion. Before he could ask what in Odin's name Gobber meant, a cheer drew his eyes toward the village. A small crowd was heading down the walkway with a skip in their collective step. Every one of them had a twinkle in their eye and a grin on their face, as though Berk had received a blessing from the gods in Stoick's absence.

"Congratulations, Stoick! Ev'ryone is so relieved!"

"Out wit' the old an' in wit' the new, right?!"

"No-one will miss that old nuisance!"

"The village is throwin' a party ta celebrate!"

Stoick watched them gallivant past without uttering a word in reply, too bewildered to speak. His brow furrowed as he processed everything that he'd been told in the past few seconds… that his "parenting troubles" were no more, that his people were overjoyed, acting as though some great burden had finally been lift–

The Chief turned to Gobber, wide-eyed. "He's gone?" he asked.

"Mmm… yeah, most afternoons," Gobber replied in a thoughtful tone. "But who could blame 'im? I mean, the life of a celebrity is very rough. He can hardly walk through the village withoot bein' swarmed by his new fans!"

By the time Gobber had finished his musing, Stoick's eyebrows had risen almost above his hairline. He understood the words Gobber was using, but not the sentences. His son? The worst Viking in Berkian history? A celebrity? With a swarm of FANS? For a moment, Stoick was convinced that he'd emerged from the mists of Helheim's Gate and into an alternate archipelago.

"Hiccup?" he spluttered.

He watched, incredulous, as Gobber's grin stretched wider. His friend wasn't messing with him. This was real.

"Who woulda thought it, eh?" the blacksmith asked, with a tinge of genuine admiration. "He has this… this way with the beasts!"

Stoick didn't reply; he stood stock still, giving the realization time to fully sink in. A miracle really had occurred while he was away – Hiccup was succeeding at monster training. Excelling, even! The more Stoick thought about it, the broader he smiled. His failure at Helheim's Gate was already forgotten; it looked like a different dream was coming true.

Hidden Grotto

"So… you actually shot down a Gore Magala that night," Batwings stated, in a bland voice that indicated no emotion.

"Y-Yes," Hiccup answered.

"And instead of killing it, you made friends with it."

"Y-Yes."

"And you've been teaching it to fly."

"Uh-huh."

"And that's why you've suddenly become so great in Gobber's classes."

"That's about the size of it."

"A Gore Magala."

"Uh… y-yes, that was already established."

Batwings said no more, turning his blank expression to the grass beneath his feet as he processed everything he'd just heard. Hiccup gulped, unable to stop his hands from trembling in his lap.

In hindsight, Hiccup supposed that he shouldn't be so surprised. Even if Batwings hadn't plunged straight into the middle of him and Sightless out of nowhere, someone would've discovered his secret eventually. Hiccup would have come up with a plan to break the news voluntarily – or at least mitigate the damage when someone found out in the future – but here he was. A witness had stumbled upon him much earlier than he had expected. One that had been followed by a flaming furious elder dragon, no less.

Yeah, the gods really did hate him.

Hiccup took his nervous gaze away from the Siren and focused it on the Lunastra. It had taken all his bravery and everything he'd learned about monsters, but he'd somehow managed to calm the female elder dragon down. Now, she was lounging in the shade nearby, idle as could be, where Sightless was keeping his nonexistent eye on her.

Batwings craned his neck toward the sky, rubbing his temples with an aggravated groan. "This is too weird for me," he groused. "Maybe I hit my head when I dove into the lake. Might explain why that blue beast isn't trying to kill me anymore…"

The Lunastra sent him a placid look and let out a gentle croon, which weirded Batwings out enough to make him shake his head in disbelief.

"Batwings," Hiccup started, hoping his voice was steady enough. "I know this is a lot to take in, but please, you cannot tell the village about this. We've been fighting against the monsters ever since the founding of Berk, without success, and I think I've finally found a way to stop the war. If I can show everyone that monsters don't have to be killed…"

"How?" Batwings asked, turning his gaze abruptly on Hiccup. "Like you said, your people have been battling them for centuries. And for good reason – monsters are ridiculously dangerous. Even the Peaceables try to stay away from them."

Hiccup was so surprised that he shut his mouth. That was a great point, one that Hiccup… well, hadn't thought about. Now that it was out in the open, though, he realized just why his brain had kept it to itself. It was one thing for him to befriend a monster; ending the war was a different matter entirely. Who would listen to him? What would stop his father from killing Sightless and banishing him to Outcast Island? How could he convince Vikings that making peace with their worst enemies was the solution?

"I… don't really know," he confessed, letting an awkward silence fall upon the grotto. Sightless must have sensed his discomfort, because he padded over to lean his head against Hiccup's side. Hiccup couldn't help but smile and pat the Gore Magala's snout absent-mindedly.

Batwings shook his head again, no doubt convinced he was going insane. "To be honest, telling other people about this was the last thing on my mind," he muttered. "Who would believe me? I'm still half-convinced that I'm dreaming."

"Oh gods," Hiccup exhaled, slumping over in relief. "I was so, so frightened when you showed up… I thought that meant everyone would know, a-and I haven't figured out how I'm going to break it to them yet…"

"If it makes you feel better, I think most of your training buddies could be brought around," Batwings observed. "Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins would probably love the idea of riding a monster once they see it can be done. Astrid and Snaketail are another story. They're both really pissed off at you."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Hiccup sighed. "Snaketail almost caught Sightless and I at the forge last night. I… kinda had to brush her off and get out of there as fast as I could…"

"She's been really worried about you," Batwings pointed out. "Arachne and I have too. Well, I'm not worried anymore, now that I see what you've been up to. But we consider you a friend of ours, and seeing you disappear constantly made us feel concerned."

Hiccup blinked. Batwings appeared calm and wasn't smiling, but there was sincerity in his voice. It was weird to think that people Hiccup had only met a few days ago thought so much of him. He remembered Snaketail's heartfelt words and winced.

"I owe her an apology," he muttered. "I mean, I wish I could, but I'd have to tell her everything, and I can't do that until I think of a plan…"

Sightless gave his encouragement with a small shriek, to which Batwings flinched with a noticeable twitch of his wings. At that moment, Hiccup was struck with inspiration – where better to start teaching people to make peace with monsters than with the person right in front of him?

"Hey, Wings," he started. Ignoring how Batwings' nose wrinkled at the sound of the nickname, he elaborated, "I might not know where to start to convince everyone else, but I do know how to finish what I started with Sightless. I tuned up his splint and tested it, and now I think we're ready for a real test flight."

"'Sightless'. You really hit that one on the nose," Batwings snorted.

Chuckling, Hiccup stood up and took a step toward Batwings. With one hand on Sightless' head, he extended his other hand toward the Siren as a silent invitation. It took the confused Batwings a second to understand, but it soon dawned, and his face paled when the realization hit him.

"Hang on," he gulped, "you can't possibly be asking me to –"

"Come along with us," Hiccup finished for him, smiling. "If I can convince you that this is possible, then maybe we can convince the village."

Several seconds passed before Batwings responded. His wings were quivering as though he wanted to fly off right there, but he edged forward at Hiccup's gentle insistence. Sightless stalked forward to meet him, sniffing at the stranger that approached him with such caution. At first, Batwings was alarmed to hear he had to submit himself to the much larger creature, but with Hiccup's reassurance, Batwings overcame his reluctance and bowed his head.

Remarkably, Sightless didn't hesitate to accept Batwings, and nosed his muzzle forward to make contact. Hiccup felt his heart warm at the sight, his first time watching from afar the formation of a bond between man (well, dragon) and monster. At the same time, he wondered if Sightless' ease of acceptance had to do with Batwings' scent being more dragon-like.

"See?" Hiccup asked lightly. "Not so bad, is he?"

"I… suppose not," Batwings admitted, opening his eyes so he could take in the sight of his hand resting against a fearsome beast made tame. He looked as though he was experiencing something truly magical.

"Well then," Hiccup chirped. "Unfortunately, there's only room for one on the saddle, so you can't fly with me. On the other hand, there's a perfectly good monster over here that I'm sure wouldn't mind giving you a ride…"

He walked over to pat the Lunastra on her flank, and Batwings' face went from captivated to terrified so quickly that Hiccup couldn't help but laugh.

Completely original chapter here that isn't inspired by the soundtrack or deleted scenes. These are just in-between scenes that would've made the previous chapter too convoluted and would take away from the important stuff to come next chapter.

That said, I would've been able to fit Stoick's return in the next chapter, if I wasn't planning to have Batwings discover Hiccup's secret! I've been hinting at this for a little while now. As it turns out, having people that actually care about you from the beginning means that you can't hide for very long.

Next chapter is the famous Test Drive, plus one! Kindly review in the meantime, please!