An outsider to Berk might have gawked at the dragons filling the village. They might have wondered about the change in its people. How exactly did a tribe dedicated to hunting down and slaughtering the monsters suddenly turn on its heel, and cozy up to them instead?
Was it witchcraft? Or had the mighty warriors of Berk tamed the ferocious beasts that had plagued them? Were they now masters to the winged lizards that occupied their village?
It could be so. The most prominent example of a relationship between a dragon and its master would be that of the chief's son, and his beast—a Night Fury, of all dragons! What was it that he called him? Something about his physical characteristics, for sure. Ah, yes, Toothless! Toothless, the Night Fury. A rather harmless name for such a formidable creature.
The boy, Hiccup, was nothing much to look at. He certainly lived up to his name. A skinny, gangly adolescent, with a contraption made of wood and metal in place of his left foot.
There were many rumors flying around the isles about what had happened for him to lose it. Some said it was lost in the sonic blast of the Night Fury before it was subdued into submission. Others muttered under their breaths that it had been burned off by a Monstrous Nightmare, which had then been slain by Stoick the Vast in a fit of murderous rage. Of course, these were only rumors that very few believed.
An outsider might have found it odd to believe that a mere stick of a lad had subdued a mighty beast like a Night Fury. But they would have to face the facts, of course. After all, it was evident that the beast obeyed the boy's every beck and call.
They took to the air, swooping across the landscape, diving and rolling through the clouds, performing stunts no Viking could have dreamed of. They moved in a synchronized fashion, as if they were of one soul, dancing through the skies.
Whenever the boy called, the dragon would answer. Yes, they muttered, the chief's son truly had his dragon under control.
To their credit, with what they saw, this would be a logical conclusion. They were, regrettably, unaware of what happened behind the scenes.
Vikings, Toothless had discovered, jumped to conclusions rather quickly. They'd been doing it for years. After all, for seven generations, the people of Berk had been at war with the dragons over a misunderstanding.
Really, they should have just done their research. Centuries of strife could have been avoided that way. Of course, Toothless would never voice his opinions on such matters, mostly because he could not talk, which was truly a shame. He'd always had a lot to say.
Nevertheless, he still tried to convey his displeasure whenever a stray Viking happened to make an assumption about Hiccup and himself. He would bare his teeth, or growl in their direction. Hiccup would sometimes mutter under his breath that Toothless was being "huffy". This was, of course, an exaggeration. Toothless was simply… disgruntled about the prejudices of different Vikings. Yes, that was it.
One of the biggest mistakes a newcomer could make, after all, was to assume that Toothless was tame. He was not. He was a dragon, a beast of the wild, He-Who-Flies-At-Night, the terror in the dark!
He also liked fish, and cuddles, and when Hiccup scratches him in that one special spot, yes that one right there. That didn't mean anything, other than proving that he was indeed a diverse and complex being. That was all.
Traders would often stop by the Hooligan tribe, famed for their large population of dragons. Toothless would watch them arrive, docking at the island in their ships. They would often gawk at Toothless and Hiccup, muttering under their breaths about the Night Fury and its master. However, this was not true.
Hiccup was not his master. Hiccup was his friend. Toothless knew this just as he knew that water was wet, and eels were not to be neared. More importantly, Hiccup was his friend. His. Hiccup was his, and he was Hiccup's. It was as simple as that.
When Hiccup and his dragon defeated the Red Death, Gothi was not surprised. It had been a long time coming, after all. The boy had a destiny written out for him ever since his birth—it had just taken him a little while to reach it. Reach him, to be precise. Not many could claim that their destiny was a dragon, but Hiccup, as usual, was the exception.
Yes, he had always been destined for greatness. No one ever seemed to notice before the Chief's son lost his leg, however. No one other than Gothi, of course. Gothi prided herself on knowing certain things. She didn't make it to village Elder by walking about with her head in the clouds, after all. She knew that the boy had a fate written out for him, though it was debatable whether he would have found it.
Although sometimes, she had thought it had been a fluke. That the glimpse she had seen inside of him was simply a coincidence. But then, on other days, she would realize that though the boy was atypical in terms of physical prowess, he had a core of iron. It would just take a while for it to show through.
That was alright. Gothi may have been old, but she wasn't going to die just yet. She could wait. So she did, waiting and watching, as the dragons raided, and were driven away, time after time. She had a magnificent vantage point from her hut, where she watched and waited; waited and watched. Until one night, when a Night Fury fell out of the sky. Then, she knew, it was time.
Toothless and the Boy did not have an auspicious first encounter. Being shot out of the sky doesn't immediately yield an instant friendship, after all. Upon seeing the boy, his first thoughts had been to hatehatehate and kill the person responsible for his predicament. He was grounded—he couldn't fly away. He saw the Boy approaching him, a knife glinting in the moonlight, and wondered whether he should have been scared.
In the end, it didn't matter. The Boy, Hiccup, spared him. He was kind. He gave him food. He gave him a name. He gave him his flight back. Toothless was free, once more, but he found that by the end of his little adventure, he didn't want to leave.
Toothless saw the Girl often. The Girl who was once angry, who spat words like dragonfire (like barbs, like spines), who was so suited for the Deadly Nadder she called Stormfly.
Toothless still remembered their first meeting. Her axe had glinted in the sunlight, and the only thought in his mind was to protect the Boy. He would later take her sightseeing, on a lovely tour of the isles. Toothless looked back on that memory with fondness.
He wondered some days whether he should be jealous of the Girl, Astrid, Hiccup's mate. It was usually a stray thought, and Toothless would swat it away carelessly.
After all, why should he be? Hiccup was his. What they had was special, and no one could replace their bond. Besides, he knew Astrid wasn't trying to. She had a bond of her own. What she and Hiccup had was so different, yet so similar to the bond Hiccup and Toothless shared. Toothless didn't mind that one bit.
After all, love didn't divide when there were more people to love. It simply multiplied.
Astrid didn't understand at first, how Hiccup could turn traitor like that. Of course, he was always the odd one out, the black sheep of Berk. Yet, allying himself with dragons? With the monsters that burned the roofs of Berk and slew their people? Astrid couldn't understand how Hiccup had seen a vicious monster and befriended it, of all things.
That was before Stormfly. Before she met a dragon that was her perfect match. Her partner, so perfectly in tune with her personality and her fighting style. More importantly, she was her friend.
She knew how people looked at the dragon-riding Hooligans. Like they had bewitched the dragons to obey their every order. She almost pitied them, because they would never understand. The dragons and their riders, they were partners, perfectly matched for one another. The dragons were their family, and nothing would tear them apart.
Hiccup would call Toothless "bud". It wasn't a word any other Hooligan used. It was special, reserved especially for him. Even if he didn't know what it meant, Toothless would understand the sentiment, because what else could it mean but friend?
No, Hiccup was not his master. But, deep inside himself, Toothless knew that whenever Hiccup called, Toothless would always answer. After all, Hiccup would do the same for him.