The night was cloudy, and the wind whipped through the trees. Two Night Furies and two humans stood in the forest, isolated from prying eyes by tree cover and isolation. Tensions were high. Einfari was not happy, and Maour seemed equal parts frustrated and worried. Heather was mortified and a little terrified, having just said something far more offensive than she intended to a dragon capable of ending her in an instant.

And it was clear to all involved, including Nóttleiðtogi, that he could do just that. His claws were out and dug into the grass and dirt, his face twisted into a dangerous glare, just a faint hint of teeth showing. He eyed her as if considering whether or not she deserved to continue breathing, though his words implied he had already decided not to hurt her.

Maour and Einfari were also well aware of the possibility of Nóttleiðtogi attacking Heather. Einfari was subtly edging towards her, trying to get between them, and Maour had a hand out, as if to physically put himself in front of Nóttleiðtogi. It spoke of just how confident Maour was in Nóttleiðtogi's self-control that he seemed willing to try that if necessary.

'Then listen,' Nóttleiðtogi growled. 'Maour, who deserves to know as I trust him and have kept the knowledge from him for far too long, and Heather, who needs to know, if she is one of us.' He glared at Heather. 'Who needs to know just how much of an accomplishment it is that she is still alive to insult me, after what she said. My self-control is good... except when this subject is involved. Maour's work is the only reason she lives to hear this.'

Heather blanched, now extremely sorry for her tactless comment.

'Many years ago, this pack did not exist. I grew up knowing no others of my kind aside from my family. This was much further south. I, my brother, and our mother and father lived alone. One day, long ago, a human vessel landed on our small island. We thought nothing of it and made sure to stay away, assuming they would leave.'

Heather found herself imagining being in Nóttleiðtogi's place, seeing through his eyes as she did with Einfari, seeing the story from his view. It helped her pay attention and remember. This felt like something she would not want to forget. So, she let her mind fill in the gaps as it would, and listened carefully.

Nottletogi's story painted the picture of an island, a small place of sand, waves, and rocky cliffs, surrounded by spires of rock jutting from the ocean. Home.

'They will leave,' his mother asserted calmly. 'Do not let them know we are here, and they will leave.'

'Yes.' His father lay in the mouth of their cave, blocking the exit with his body, looking out serenely. 'We do not need to flee. There is nothing here for them to want.'

'It is not as if they could get to us anyway,' Nottletogi asserted confidently. 'They do not have wings, right?'

'Not that I can see, brother.' His brother leaned forward over their father's side to take another look at the distant anomaly on the main island. 'I want to go get a closer look.'

'They are leaving,' his mother stressed. 'There is no need.'

'But they didn't leave. They set up camp,' Nóttleiðtogi continued. 'So that night, my brother went for a closer look. He did not come back.'

'Where is he?' his father snarled. 'I was blocking the exit to stop either of you from doing something stupid!'

Nottletogi didn't want to admit he had seen his brother sneak out over their sleeping father's body late in the night, but he had no choice. 'He went out to take a closer look.'

'And he has not come back?' his mother gasped. 'We need to get him back. Now!'

'Fine.' His father stood, shaking himself to wake fully. He spread his wings, looking out at the camp and fire. 'We will destroy them, recover him, and then I will lecture him on acts of stupidity.'

The three of them set out, flying the short distance to the main island. They swooped low, looking over the camp for signs of the missing Night Fury.

'We were fools,' Nóttleiðtogi snarled. 'They took us out of the sky with a single arrow each. We were targets because they were ready and waiting for us.'

A sharp pain in his chest shocked him, but it was nothing compared to the spreading numbness. He shrieked, falling to slam into the sand, digging a small furrow as he skidded to a stop. There was another, similar shriek and thump, and he knew his mother had been hit. But what of his father?

A thud, different in sound, echoed through the night, along with a horrible screech of pain. His father had not landed as luckily as he or his mother had, by the sound. But he couldn't so much as move his ears.

Creatures, humans, dragged him over to their docked ship, roughly pulling him aboard. They spoke, but he did not understand them. They wrapped ropes around him and put something on his head, though he could not move anyway. His body felt pained, throbbing agony that was rising with every minute, piercing the numbness.

Then some liquid was forced into his mouth and the pain faded. He looked around, noticing that his mother and brother were in similar situations. But what of his father? He could clearly see the camp over the railing of the ship… and there his father was, being pulled over into the firelight.

The humans roughly rolled him over and spoke to each other. Then they settled back down…

'They just left my father there. I still don't know why, aside from the fact that he was hurt. We were unable to do anything but watch the poison slowly kill him.' There was bleak horror in Nóttleiðtogi's voice now.

How bad would that be? Worse than just finding the aftermath. He had only just begun, and already his story outstripped hers in just how horrible it was. She didn't want to hear the rest, but at the same time she had to know.

Morning. He could hear soft sobbing from his mother and would have joined in if he did not feel so tired and sad, too tired to howl as he might have. His father was gone, having at some point stopped breathing.

The humans stirred, gathering around the fire. Later, they moved to his father's body, and…

'They didn't even let his body rest undisturbed. He was worth something, even dead. We also had to watch as they skinned him, cut him apart, taking any and everything they considered valuable or interesting. Only then did they leave, taking us with them.'

He was howling and whining now, despite thinking himself too tired for that earlier. There was no shame in it. What had been done to his father was horrible. Why had these humans come here? It didn't matter. What mattered was that they had let his father die a slow death, cut him apart, stolen his skin and scales and other things, and left the scattered remains to rot. For no reason.

Time passed. They were held captive, unable to escape these terrible they came to another island, one with scores of the humans, hundreds of them.

Some came aboard and left with bits of his father's skin. Others stared at him and his family and spoke with the ones responsible for bringing them there. Eventually, they were taken by one of those humans and brought to a new place.

'This new human seemed to run the whole island, I think. He had plans for us.'

The first week, they were left in cages like before, these encased in stone as opposed to wood. He could see a stone valley out through the bars on one side, and his mother and brother through the bars on the other. They mourned his father, and plotted escape, but never got out.

Then humans could be heard everywhere, a lot of them. He watched as his brother was herded out into the stone valley… along with an angry Skrill.

'He died in seconds.' Nóttleiðtogi stopped for a moment, bowing his head sadly. 'He did not know much of fighting, and the Skrill was battle-hardened. They attack our kind on sight. This one was no different.'

More mourning, worse than before. His mother was near inconsolable, and he felt miserable all the time now. What was the point of all of this? Was he going to be next?

But it did not happen again. Instead, his mother suffered. Dragons of other kinds, less aggressive kinds, were let into her cage and forced themselves upon her, tied and helpless in her cage. Some of them apologized, saying that they would be killed if they did not try, and some did not. Some even enjoyed it. He could do nothing but offer empty words of comfort as she suffered every few days for no reason.

"I…" Maour looked like he really didn't want to speak but felt he had to. "I can guess why."

'So can I, Maour.' Nóttleiðtogi was not even looking at them now, his eyes closed in grief even as he spoke. 'But we cannot interbreed with other kinds of dragon. It does not work, as far as I know, all other kinds being so different, and my mother proved that, against her will. But my part in all of this has not yet begun. Keep listening.'

Then came a day when he was knocked out and moved to another cage, one on a ship. He hated the humans for leaving his mother alone, hated them for his imprisonment, able to see the sky but not reach it, trapped inside a cage, and hated his life in general. All of this because his brother had not been careful and had wanted to investigate. Was it his brother's fault? Or was it just that they had not known enough?

After a few weeks, he was once again transferred to another cage. This time, though, something very strange was going on.

'Odd…' a Night Fury with yellow eyes remarked, staring at him through the bars. 'Why in there?'

'Two new today, but only one in here?' Another Night Fury, a male with green eyes. 'What is different about you?'

Two? There were so many of his kind in the large cage directly opposite one side of the bars. He couldn't even see them all! 'Who is the other new one?' Maybe it would be his-

'I am.' A male with pale orange eyes pushed his way through the small throng. Oh. Looking around, his mother was not there. She must still be suffering back where they had been before.

'Skuggi, Skarpur, Kló, Jós, Hryðjuverk, Fjall, and Ský,' Nóttleiðtogi recited quietly. 'All young adults like me, most of whom had been caught out searching the world for mates. Eyðileggingu was there too, having been caught with his daughter, the only family member anyone had there. Hetja was the orange-eyed Fury, who had also been out looking, though he also spoke of an older brother and a falling-out he wanted to make right. And one more Fury, one we did not meet until later.'

'Myrkurheili?' Maour guessed.

'No, actually. His is a different story not connected to all of this,' Nóttleiðtogi corrected. 'I was the only one in a smaller cage, while they were all together in a large one. We did not find out why for a few more weeks.'

One day, something was different. Usually, they were not even acknowledged, stuck in a small room in two cages with no other occupants, alone aside from being brought food and water, and occasionally being knocked unconscious so that their cages could be cleaned. Today, though, the humans were arguing.

'Does anyone understand them?' the female with grey eyes like his own asked testily. 'It would be useful to know what they say.'

A scattered chorus of denials followed that question. It seemed nobody did.

Then a large human he recognized entered the room, cowing the other humans into submission with a word and a bark. They rushed to his cage.

His cage. He backed up, sticking his tail through the bars dividing his cage from the other in his need to be far from them. If they wanted him, it could not be good. He knew that human. And it knew him because it was wearing his father's skin. It had looked at him on that ship months ago.

The cage was opened. He snarled at the humans. But they made no move to pry him out. Instead, they watched him.

Then, the young male human with his father's skin yelled something, and a dragon entered the room, walking quickly despite a pronounced limp. Walking of its own accord, unrestrained and unhindered save for a metal loop around its neck and another pinning its wings to its body.

It was another Night Fury. That was clear. But it was scarred, so scarred. Strange marks, not like those gained in combat, marks that looked to have been done intentionally while the dragon was unable to stop it. Small scars, intricate patterns that might have been impressive if not done in a way that broke the body a little bit with every line.

She had blue eyes, shallow and unaware.

The male with his father's skin gestured and barked at her, and the scarred female placed her head on the ground. The human put its paw on her head, pushing down, and she did not even acknowledge the pain the pressure must have brought.

It was clear, what the human was displaying. She was broken… as they would be.

Then the human gestured at his cage, grinning cruelly, and the broken female entered, allowing the humans lock her inside. Inside, with him.

He stared at her. She stared blankly at him.

'They can't seriously think that's happening,' one of the other dragons remarked.

'They think it will happen with us, too,' the grey-eyed female from before noted with the air of one who finally understood. 'Why else put us all together? Not that any of us would be stupid enough to do that.'

He understood now too. They wanted him to mate with her. To make more Night Furies, for whatever purpose.

But the purpose was also clear. To create more of this broken female's kind. Mindless slaves to the same twisted human.

And he had for some reason been chosen to be hers.

'And why him?' Hetja asked. 'He isn't the biggest of us males, or the strongest, and he wasn't even the first male here. What makes him different? For that matter, why only him? Why not all the males, to make it more likely one will decide to cooperate?'

All good questions they had no answers to. It didn't matter. Someone had decided he was to be hers.

'It took them a few days to figure out I wouldn't do that,' Nóttleiðtogi recounted with a shudder. 'That was when the same male started trying to break me. To make me obey.'

Heather shivered. This was far beyond anything she could have guessed to be the reason for Nóttleiðtogi's issues. She dreaded what came next in the story.

'I am not going to tell you of the torture,' Nóttleiðtogi admitted. 'Know that it was horrible, and see the results. That is enough.'

"The results..?" Maour asked slowly, looking as if something had just started to make sense. "Is this why..?"

'There is a reason I never show my underside,' Nóttleiðtogi agreed quietly. 'Not with any I do not trust entirely.'

"So when you showed your belly to me in one of our sessions a few months ago…" Maour's eyes widened.

'Exactly. I trust you,' Nóttleiðtogi confirmed with a glance at Heather as if to drive in that the same did not apply to her. 'This story really is long overdue for you. She does not get the same privilege.'

"Well then tell me what I would see if you want any of this to make sense." She tried to sound sure, but her voice wavered.

"He is scarred from the underside of his chest, along the whole bottom of his body," Maour explained. "Hundreds of thin lines, patterns, all over."

Heather thought back to every time she had ever seen Nóttleiðtogi. It was true; he had never so much as sat on his hind legs, though that seemed a common thing among Night Furies when they were interacting with humans, a way to be looking down instead of up.

'But I am not done telling this story.' He seemed to lose a small bit of the bleak weight speaking brought.

'It only gets better from here,' Einfari remarked. Heather had almost forgotten she was there.

'Indeed, though it did not seem like that at the time,' Nóttleiðtogi agreed.

Another end to the pain, to the horror of that young male flaunting his father's skin and howling for him to submit while others carved lines of pain on his underside. It would be a relief… if he did not know it was all going to start over in the morning. He whined, unashamed, unable to so much as lick his own wounds. His muscles were locked from straining, his underside burning with pain and bleeding.

'You did not submit.' It was not a question. It never was.

'No,' he whined. 'Never… that.' That would be the end, in more ways than one. He would not be like the female sitting awake but not aware in the other corner of their cage. Never like her.

Skarpur pressed her face against the other side of the bars between them, staring at him from up close. 'Any ways out?'

Another routine, one that helped keep him sane. Pity might break him. Relying on him to find an escape kept him strong. He was the only one who could, being the only one ever let out of the cages. Skarpur made sure he remained aware at all times. Aware of anything that could be exploited.

He shook his head, the same reply as every day before. Nothing.

'You'll find something.' She was sure. 'We sure aren't going to in here. Just keep looking.'

He felt a flash of an emotion that was entirely inappropriate given the situation and his own physical state. The human with his father's skin had made a mistake if it wanted him to help make eggs. It had put Skarpur in another cage.

Not that either of them was stupid enough to do so here, or that she even returned the feeling, but still. That also kept him strong, pointless though it was.

'Skarpur, move.' Hetja almost pushed her aside in his haste.

'Any luck?' Nottletogi mustered the strength to clear a line of sight for Hetja. To make sure Hetja could see the broken one in the other cage.

'I think she heard me today,' Hetja muttered stubbornly. 'She responded.'

'She yawned, Hetja.' Skarpur did not sound discouraging so much as cautious of false hope. 'I do not think that is something one does in understanding so much as tiredness.'

'It was something, Skarpur.' Hetja was easy-going about everything but this. 'We have not seen anything from her aside from that. I call it progress.'

'Hetja worked with her, trying to break through to something more than mindless obedience,' Nóttleiðtogi recounted. 'He was stubborn. Meanwhile, the others formed attachments, despite the circumstances. Most of us were looking for mates anyway, and nobody doubted that we would somehow escape eventually.'

'And then?' Einfari sounded positively gleeful. 'This part, I wish you would tell freely. Hearing it once was not enough.'

'Daughter, that would be torture for me.' Nóttleiðtogi growled warningly. 'To remember this is just as painful as the rest.'

'Sorry. Go ahead.' Einfari whined apologetically.

Hetja was stubborn. Who could have guessed it would pay off? Days, weeks on end spent speaking to the broken one, talking. She did not talk, so Hetja spoke to her, telling her stories, jokes, riddles. Anything to get a response, but nothing worked.

Nothing worked… until something did.

'Three.'

It was such an innocuous comment that he almost didn't realize who it had come from at first, wrapped up in wishing his body did not hurt, waiting for sleep to relieve his pain for a while.

'What..?' Hetja's voice was disbelieving. 'Did anyone else hear that?'

Skuggi nodded vigorously. 'It was not one of us. What, exactly, did you say to her?'

'I was telling her a story,' Hetja recounted excitedly, staring at the broken female, who stared back blankly, giving no sign that she had spoken. 'About how long I searched for others of our kind with no success, and about the Skrill I had to dodge along the way. Then I asked if she had ever fought-'

'Three.' Her voice showed no signs of disuse, but it felt old. 'Killed three. Long ago.'

He looked closely at her. She was not moving, not looking at anyone… but was that a hint of awareness in her eyes?

'Do you have a name?' Hetja asked, speaking slowly and clearly, making it obvious he was asking her specifically.

Silence. She slowly turned to look at Hetja. Yes, there was something behind her eyes now, something that had faded but was now returning.

'No.'

By now, everyone was paying attention, silent and hopeful. Hopeful for anything that might help get them out, though she was as trapped as they were.

'Did your parents give you one?' Hetja asked kindly.

'Yes. He made…' She whined, showing more emotion than any of them had seen from her. 'I have no name. No one ever used it.'

'We would use it,' Hetja offered. 'Can you remember?'

'No.' It was said immediately. 'It has been too long.' She looked out at the larger cage, at the small crowd of Night Furies within. 'I… so many…'

'And one more,' Nottletogi rasped from his place in her own cage, unwilling to be ignored.

She turned to look at him… and froze.

He realized after a moment of confusion that she was staring at his injuries. The ones so like her own. She must have known what that meant.

'How long?' She spoke as if to herself, her tone dangerous. 'How long did I hold out?'

He answered anyway. 'I don't know.'

'But… I did not hold out forever,' she mused. 'I gave in. I stopped thinking… did what he wanted…'

She was still staring at his injuries.

'I led others into war for him.' Eerily still, the only indicator of her mood was her voice. Anyone who could not hear them would not know anything was going on. 'I killed others for him. Let him think for me. It was the only way to escape the endless pain.'

'How long..?' he prompted. 'How long since you began to do as he said?'

'I don't know,' she growled. 'Long enough to forget my name. To forget how to speak at all. But not so long. It was an adult when it broke me, and it is not so much older now.'

'Do you know a way out of here?' Skarpur asked urgently. 'Some weakness we can exploit?'

The female didn't respond. She stood, walking closer to him. He did not flinch. There was nothing she could do that would be worse than what he suffered every day, and she did not seem dangerous at the moment.

She nudged his injuries. 'Have you broken yet?'

'No.' He said it decisively but without scorn for her. 'I have support here. I will never break. It will kill me first.'

'Support…' She glanced over at Skarpur. 'A mate?'

'A friend,' Skarpur supplied. 'We didn't even know each other until we were locked up here.'

'A mate,' the female repeated as if she had not even heard Skarpur. 'Separated by bars, one tortured… put with me…'

He would have objected, but Skarpur shook her head before he could. She was willing to let the female believe it if only to see where she was going with this.

'I fought for him. Killed for him. But one of you brought me back. Who brought me back? Who talks to me?' She never let her eyes move from his injuries, for some reason.

'I did,' Hetja answered.

'Thank you.' She snarled aimlessly. 'I am his surrogate alpha, leading other prisoners into battle. They do not accept me.'

He still wasn't sure where she was going with any of this.

'Never again.' She moved just close enough to touch his open wounds with her nose, her eyes still staring. 'One of you brought me back. I will get you all out.'

Had he heard that right? 'You know a way to escape?'

'No.' She took a step back, her eyes closing. 'I know a way to destroy, one he never got to see. It has to be accepted, needed. He never told me he needed it.'

Now she was talking nonsense-

A faint blue glow emanated from her nostrils and back. As he watched, astonished, it spread to her entire body, her skin beneath her scales glowing blue, lighting the dark room. She opened her eyes, the blue of her body now matching her hard stare. She was still looking at his injuries.

'I have a reason.' A nod to him. 'You give me reason. I will not let you break as I did. I will not watch your mate grieve for you.'

She turned to the bars separating their cages. 'Stand back.'

'We tried that,' Skarpur objected, though she did as told. 'All of us together could not-'

'I have need,' the female repeated. Then she started flaming the bars, her fire white-hot and huge, a torrent far beyond anything any of them could produce. It went on and on, no end in sight, for minutes without ceasing.

It was amazing.

The bars began dripping, melting beneath her impossible power. She broke the separation between the cages and stepped back, not even looking tired.

Skarpur rushed to him through the melted opening, licking his wounds frantically… and speaking quietly for only him to hear. 'Play along. If separated lovers are what she needs to be motivated, we can provide that.'

He laughed quietly at that. 'Can do.'

The female did the same to the door of their small cage, breaking it with her unnatural flame. She left the cage, going to stand by the door. The rest of them followed.

She turned to look at all of them, still glowing. 'Leave. Escape. Survive.'

There was weight behind her words now, a curious feeling he did not understand. From the unsettled growls he heard throughout the rest of the group, it was not just him. But nobody objected.

Nobody, except for Hetja. 'I go where you go,' he said solemnly. 'You did not have support. Now you do.'

She considered him. 'Where I go is not a good place.'

'But I follow anyway.'

'Indeed.' She sighed. 'You may do as you wish.'

Again, with that weight, though this time it was clearly only directed at Hetja.

Then they ran, the female leading the way, blasting anything that moved. The building was one of many, small and easy to escape, in the end. They leaped into the sky, faltering but persevering, cramps small hindrances against the adrenaline of escape, and flew away.

Until it was apparent that Hetja and the female were not following. The sounds of overpowered blasts and normal shots in tandem told the story even as the rest of them circled above, calling for the two to join in fleeing.

They were destroying the male's island, all that he had built. Side by side, they moved through the compound, her blasts destroying small buildings outright and crippling anything bigger, there being seemingly no limit to her shots. Hetja protected her, killing any who attempted to stop her.

'Why aren't they leaving?' Kló asked frantically.

'Her wings,' Skuggi replied sadly. 'They are restrained. She cannot fly… and Hetja will not leave her.'

'Then we go down there and make sure nothing survives but them!' Skarpur snarled. 'Then we can figure out how to get her back into the air.'

She was right, and they all knew it… but nobody moved to go down there. They could not return.

'What is this?' Skuggi yelled angrily. 'I want to go back! Something is not letting me!'

'Same here!' Nóttleiðtogi yelled. Then what the female had done became clear. 'Somehow, she isn't letting us go back!' She had told them to escape, and now they could not disobey.

They circled above the chaos, desperately trying to break whatever strange hold her words had over them, failing entirely.

They bore witness to the destruction. To the moment Hetja fell, unable to fight any longer, killed by the few remaining soldiers. And they watched as the male himself faced down the glowing female, howling and brandishing a staff. They watched as she blasted him, but the skin of his father protected him. Mostly. It was draped across both shoulders, used as shields, but that did not stop the force from damaging one of his arms quite badly.

All of this they saw from afar. They saw it nonetheless. They saw the moment the male, injured but triumphant, blocked one final shot with his ruined arm and cloak, and killed the glowing female.

Only then could they disobey. But there was no point.

"So that madman is still out there somewhere?" Maour asked

'Presumably,' Nóttleiðtogi agreed worriedly. 'But the story is not quite over.'

They fled for a few hours, stopping on a small island that was more a few rocks in the sea than anything.

'We are free,' Jós remarked tiredly. 'Now what? Do we go our separate ways?'

Nóttleiðtogi immediately looked to Skarpur, who stared right back, having been caught in doing the same thing. 'I don't know if we should.'

'I mean…' Skarpur laughed slyly. 'We were pretty good at faking it...'

'Funny,' he grumbled, inwardly hoping she meant it. 'We may as well see if it works out. No reason to go looking…'

But he did have reason to go looking, if not for a mate. 'But I need to rescue my mother. She is still captive in another place. Her situation is worse than ours was.'

'I left my family a long time ago,' Fjall admitted. 'I went in search of knowledge and other things.'

'Same,' Ský provided confidently. 'To both knowledge and the other thing.'

Well, that was convenient, if something he could not comprehend voluntarily doing in their place. 'Is there anyone who has a home they wish to return to?'

Skuggi spoke up. 'I know a place I wish to reside, though my family is not there. It is far from here. Any who would come with me,' and at that he looked at Kló, 'are welcome to. We are, I think, safer in groups.'

'That is not how we usually do it,' he agreed, 'but it makes sense. And I don't think any of us want to be alone again so soon after this.'

No one objected to that.

'So we go for Togi's mother, and then to the place Skuggi knows,' Skarpur summarized. 'A good plan.'

Heather had a terrible feeling that the plan had not succeeded, because Nóttleiðtogi's mother was not here today, as far as she knew.

"So you went back," Maour said hesitantly. "Was she still there?"

Nóttleiðtogi laughed hollowly, his voice laden with pain. 'In a way.'

Nóttleiðtogi did not believe his eyes. Surely this was a cruel joke. She was the only one left of his family. This could not be.

'I'm so sorry,' the Nightmare in the opposite cage whined. 'She begged me to do it. For weeks, because I was the only one they kept putting in with her that would listen at all. She was in agony.'

'You killed her,' he whispered softly. 'because she asked?'

'She begged!' The Nightmare was moaning. He was large, but not that old. He sounded sincerely sorry. 'She said she didn't want to live! That-'

'Stop it!' Skarpur barked from her place hidden in the shadows. 'He does not need to hear that! What is done is done.'

He was glad he had let her come on this infiltration. A part of him wanted to know why his mother had wanted to die, but another part of him already knew the answer, and hearing it spoken and confirmed would only increase the horrible guilt he felt. She had thought him dead too. His disappearance had killed her, in the end. The body lying there in a cell, long dead, was enough nightmare fodder. Why had they left her here? Laziness, perhaps.

'Togi, we are not safe here. We need to leave.' Skarpur slunk into the open and checked the exit. 'We are risking ourselves for nothing now.'

For nothing… He took another look at the Nightmare who had killed his mother.

'It isn't his fault,' Skarpur growled. 'Killing him will not make you feel any better.'

'I did not plan on it,' he lied. But which did he want more? Some petty semblance of revenge, or Skarpur's approval?

She was right. It wouldn't make him feel any better. He couldn't trust his emotions to guide him, so he needed to trust logic. Reasoning.

Logic said he shouldn't kill the Nightmare. It had only done as she asked…

No. It had also forced itself upon her. Again, not its fault. He knew it might have been thrown into the arena to die if it did not comply. That did not make it any less wrong.

What to do…

He looked around, at the various other dragons who lingered here, most watching silently. This was the place breeding dragons were kept, it seemed. He remembered many of these. The ones who had laughed at her. The ones who had said nothing. The ones who had apologized to her but done it anyway.

The only ones he did not see were the rare few that had refused to do it at all. They were all dead.

'I won't kill you.' He spoke loudly to be heard by the ones who were watching. 'But I'm not going to risk myself to save you, either.'

'We don't know how, anyway.' Skarpur glanced down the corridor. 'And if what you told me of this place is right, we do not have long to get out. Humans will be coming to check this area soon.'

She was right. They couldn't save these dragons even if they wanted to, not without finding a way to break open the cages. He would have risked everything for his mother…

But he would not risk anything for these dragons. He followed Skarpur out, never looking back.

'It was not worth the risk,' Nóttleiðtogi concluded.

"I get that…" Maour didn't seem happy with that. "But leaving them like that? You even said there were good dragons there."

'I would not do the same if I could go back and relive that moment,' Nóttleiðtogi agreed. 'But I also would not risk my life to save them now, either. Sometimes, you can only save a few people. Sometimes, it's not up to you to save everyone.'

"So what would you have done if you could go back?" Maour asked.

'I would have left, but I would have come up with a plan to destroy that entire island later, a way to set them all free,' Nóttleiðtogi explained. 'A way to do it without risking myself, Skarpur, or anyone else in the pack. But that might have been impossible. I don't know, and that was decades ago. I'm not even sure I could find my way back there now if I tried. It has been a long time, and we island-hopped frequently in the past.'

"I guess…" Maour shrugged. "You do have a point about it not being possible to win every battle. I learned that the hard way."

With his island, Heather assumed. He had not won them over at all, though she knew now that he had tried.

'There is only a little more,' Nóttleiðtogi continued.

'Sorry about your mother,' Skarpur whined as they flew back to rejoin the others, leaving the island behind. 'Was she the only one you had?'

Nóttleiðtogi didn't want to talk about it. But if anyone was close enough to hear it, Skarpur was. 'No. My brother and father both died too. My brother died here, and my father the night we were all captured. I don't want to talk about it.'

'I'll keep it quiet,' Skarpur agreed. 'Will you tell the others if they ask?'

'No. Not for a while. Maybe someday.' He didn't want to be pitied. 'They do not need to know that my entire family is dead.'

'Not everyone,' Skarpur suggested. 'You know that we are all going to live wherever it is that Skuggi is suggesting. We are your family too.'

'It doesn't work like that,' he objected. 'They are all friends, but I cannot call them family. We flew different paths in life, and if need be will fly our separate ways once more. A family doesn't separate permanently by choice.'

'They are friends.' She seized upon that, her voice considering. 'And what am I? You had better think quick, Togi.'

He answered without hesitation, his thoughts on her made clear by one final loss. 'The only one I have now. You, I can call family.' And more.

'Not yet,' she growled. 'Did I ever say yes?'

He faltered in midair, dreading what would come next. Would he even survive yet another loss? Would she be so heartless as to reject him now, of all times?

'And I won't,' she continued, 'until you are done mourning your mother. It feels wrong to let you make an important decision right now.'

'That might take a while,' he admitted.

'Don't worry, it's not as if you have competition for me,' she purred. 'Everyone is pairing up, and old Eyðileggingu doesn't even want another mate.'

He clung to that. She would wait for him. They would all go somewhere safe, somewhere he would never have to see humans again. His nightmares of the one with his father's skin would fade someday.

'We went where Skuggi had suggested, settled down, made ties… and then had to leave a few years later, when humans took an interest in the island. So we just kept moving, every time they showed up.' Nóttleiðtogi shrugged. 'Myrkurheili finding us is another story, one I was not really that involved in. The same applies to Svarturkló's disappearance and eventual return…

'Which brings me to the present day, when an insolent hatching claims with all certainty that I am silly to fear humans.'

He took a prowling step towards Heather, claws digging furrows in the forest floor.

'When I see you, I see my mother, chained and mated against her will.'

Another step. His tail started lashing back and forth. Einfari matched him, ready to leap to action.

'I hear sharp blades hacking at my father's body, butchering him.'

Another step. His wings stretched out above, making him look larger than life. Heather could feel tension building. Einfari's breath wafted hotly from behind, Nóttleiðtogi's from the front.

'I feel the unending torture they put me through to break my spirit.'

Another step. Einfari whined. Nóttleiðtogi took in a deep breath and roared at the foliage above.

'I see the endless hatred and malice your kind is capable of!'

Einfari had her head over Heather's shoulder, caught between protecting her charge and standing against her father. Maour stood next to Heather, hands held out with palms up to try to calm him down. Heather closed her eyes and waited for the building tension to cause Nóttleiðtogi to snap.

'But…' He deflated slightly, his eyes going to Maour. 'I do not let that stop me from seeing the truth. Some of you are bad, and some of you are not. It is just hard for me to truly believe that.' He turned away, dropping his threatening posture in favor of one that looked tired and frustrated.

Einfari let out a sigh of relief. Maour relaxed. Whatever danger there might have been was over with.

That left Heather with nothing to do but dwell on just how horrible she had been. What could she possibly say to all of that? Sorry wasn't even close to good enough.

Maour approached Nóttleiðtogi again. "I understand now," he said, putting a hand on Nóttleiðtogi's side. Heather noted that Nóttleiðtogi didn't even flinch. "What part of that should not be told? A lot of it sounds like stuff everyone knows."

'The fates of my family, and how close I came to breaking,' Nóttleiðtogi supplied. 'All of those who escaped that island know, as I told them over the years, but none of the younger generation outside my family.'

"I promise not to spread the story without permission," Maour began hesitantly, "but if you would, I keep as few secrets as possible from Toothless."

'I do not know him as well as you,' Nóttleiðtogi objected. 'But... he has never pressed you to be included in these sessions, despite his protective nature.'

"He did at first, but he understands." Maour nodded. "He would keep it secret, and likely respect you just as much as he does now."

'Fine. You may tell him, but no one else.' Then Nóttleiðtogi glared at Heather. 'And you tell no one whatsoever.'

"Who would I tell?" Heather asked, almost offended. "I live with your family, who pretty much all know already. And weren't we already sworn to secrecy on everything that happens here?"

'You will remember and never break that secrecy,' Nóttleiðtogi remarked dangerously. 'This is the only time I will remind you.'

'I know how to keep things secret,' Heather replied. "Can I apologize now?"

'No. As long as you never do that again, I will forget about this time.' He said it as if it was some great compromise. 'I understand speaking out of turn through ignorance.'

"So… should we try again?" Maour asked hesitantly.

'It is your decision, Maour, but I would rather not,' Nóttleiðtogi admitted.

'Why is it his decision?' Einfari warbled curiously.

'My judgment in these matters is not the best, so I listen to Maour here. He has the final say in what we do because if I decided, we would never make any progress.' Nóttleiðtogi growled softly. 'It works this way.'

"No, I think we can try again some other day," Maour decided. "When tensions have died down a bit."

'Good.' Nóttleiðtogi walked off into the trees, disappearing from sight.

"I get why you did that, Heather…" Maour shrugged aimlessly, seemingly at a loss.

"It was a stupid thing to do, I know." She turned away, feeling miserable. "Believe me, I know."

After hearing all of that, she felt… hopeless. Not only was there no way she was ever going to get Nóttleiðtogi's approval and trust, but she was also torturing him just by living in the same cave system. He didn't deserve that. Not after all she had been told.

'This was a setback,' Einfari supplied. 'But not the end. You'll just have to keep trying, Heather. And now you understand, at least.'

"Keep trying?" She crossed her arms. "What part of any of that tells you he'll ever be okay with me?"

'When he let Maour touch him without even thinking about it,' Einfari replied confidently. 'You didn't see how it was back when Maour was new. It was just as bad, if not worse. He got over that… somehow. It isn't impossible.'

"It isn't impossible… but it takes time." Maour looked Heather in the eye. "You need to let it take time. Not push and get frustrated every time his issues push right back."

"Got it." She went over to Einfari. "Let's go. There's no reason to stay here." She wished they had never set down in this clearing.

Einfari complied, but once they were up in the air she objected. 'Cheer up. If you can, anyway. Hearing that didn't get any easier the second time around.'

"I don't know what to do," Heather admitted freely. "Not with him."

'Let him adjust, work with him if Maour requests it. That's all you can do.' Einfari rumbled consideringly. 'In the meantime… we should switch focus to Nóttreiði, and getting ready to carry out our mission.'

Killing Dagur. That, she could prepare for. As for Nóttreiði? Right now, his violent hatred looked less insurmountable than Nóttleiðtogi's issues. It was time to switch focus.

Author's Note: In case anyone is wondering, this chapter was originally a short, 2,000 word scene with Togi just telling the story. When I came back around to it, I knew I needed to fix that, but it was a bit tricky to rewrite. What we have here is a very odd way of telling the story, one with multiple layers of abstraction. Togi tells the story from memory, and Heather imagines it from his perspective, filling in the blanks. This way I can make it interesting and not just an exposition dump… while also not bogging this book down with a mini-arc set in the past (which I could have done. I estimate Togi's story would take five chapters if I wanted to go from his actual perspective.)

As a side note, some of the dialogue probably feels pretty generic (specifically that of Togi's family in the first few scenes). That's actually intentional in this scene, because Togi isn't recounting every word said through memory, and Heather doesn't actually know most of the people involved. By that same margin, those who like to predict from the smallest details should be very wary of the sections in italics. What Heather imagines may not be everything, based solely on what Togi is saying. It also may not have the same tone as the actual event, or may be missing subtleties.

Basically, the narrator for those scenes is very unreliable in some ways. It was an interesting hybrid method of relaying information, one I very much doubt I'll find many chances to use.