Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD

A/N: On 1st September 2016, I posted the first chapter of Heart Bound. Now, on 1st September 2019, I am proud to present the tenth and final book of the HBS…

Kindred Spirits

Chapter One – Stirrings and Whispers

Adulfr drifted in a sea of uncertainty. Not quite asleep, and not quite awake, he dozed on a knife edge, about to plunge into either the darkness of slumber or the tedium of daylight. The matter was decided for him when something bright lanced sharply into his eyes. Adulfr groaned and threw an arm over his head.

The light darted back and forth, accompanied by an irritating rhythmic tapping sound. Probably some Terror banging something against the bars of his cell. Grumbling curses, Adulfr sat up intending to shoo the dumb little dragon away. He opened his eyes, only to find bulbous eyes and long fangs right next to his head. "Gah!" he yelled, flinching away and tumbling right out of the bunk.

"Loki'ed!" Someone cried gleefully, as Adulfr picked himself up, groaning. The floor was hard stone; he was going to bruise from this, and that…freak, one of the twins, the male…Tuffnut, found it funny. He snickered even as he placed a bowl full of porridge on the table. "Ah, no better start to the day than a good full Loki" he declared cheerfully, immune to Adulfr's death glare. "Morning!"

If only he had the gift of setting people on fire just by scowling at them. Then again, if that were the case, almost everyone would burn. "Have you nothing better to do than torment me?" he demanded, indignant. The nerve of some -

A thought occurred to him. "What is it you actually do?" Adulfr questioned.

Tuffnut blinked. "Uh…what do you mean?"

Adulfr rolled his eyes. Such simpletons on this island, gods… "What is your job?" he elaborated, speaking slowly. "Haddock – I mean, Hiccup – is the 'Dragon Ambassador', his wife is the Chief, Ingerman works at that academy, Jorgenson is the blacksmith…and you and your sister do what, exactly?" he sneered.

"Gee, lemme think. I raise chickens, I help Bucket and Mulch with their chickens and sheep, I help my uncle Walnut with his wood carving, I teach stealth, hand to hand combat and acrobatics at the Academy, I experiment with interior design - I'm good with fabrics. Oh, and nowadays I help look after my nephew."

Now it was Adulfr's turn to blink. Tuffnut wasn't finished though. "As for Ruffnut, she helps out in the bakery sometimes, and she teaches too but she does weapons and pickpocketing instead, and we both teach about Zipplebacks of course, and we help with excavation sometimes…and we Loki people."

That was more he'd expected… "Should you be doing any of that now?"

Tuffnut shrugged. "Yeah, probably. I've already done the important stuff though; feeding Chicken Junior and her feathered friends. Well, see ya!" With that, he strolled out of the prison, whistling cheerfully to himself. Adulfr scowled irritably and set about devouring the meagre excuse for his breakfast.

Fishlegs arrived not long after he'd finished. The man looked haggard and exhausted. "Good morning. How did you sleep?" he asked politely, before yawning. "Sorry. I hope your night wasn't as bad as mine." Scrufflout was teething, and going through a phase of refusing to sleep for as long as he could.

"I was sleeping fine, until that…friend of yours showed up" Adulfr replied tersely. "I thought that pest was told to stay away from me?" he demanded.

"Which one?" Fishlegs quipped.

"Funny" Adulfr deadpanned. "I meant the one called Tuffnut."

"Oh, right. He was told that, but the twins have never been good at 'rules' and 'consequences'" explained Fishlegs. He hesitated, and then said "So here's the thing. You apologised to Hiccup, and that's good. That's a really good start. But you hurt a lot of people, and they deserve an apology too. So I think we should start with Snotlout. You ought to apologise for getting his father murdered."

Of course. He was supposed to be 'doing the right thing' now. And yet… "What would be the point?" Adulfr questioned. "I'm not so foolish as to think he'd forgive me, and it's not like apologising will fix anything. You and Had-Hiccup are the ones who told me that my getting revenge was futile for that very reason."

"The point is to let him know you feel regret. That you know what happened and what you did was wrong" explained Fishlegs. "I'm guessing your dad told you that apologies were a sign of weakness, or some nonsense like that."

Adulfr flinched a little. "He…may have mentioned something of that ilk."

Fishlegs nodded. "A lot of people think that way. I don't really know why…but apologising isn't about undoing what's been done, cos you're right, there's no way to change that. It's about letting whoever you've wronged know you care."

He wondered if he should ask the obvious question. "And if I don't care?"

In return he received an exasperated frown. "You should. Try to put yourself in his shoes. I mean, how would you like it if someone got your father killed?"

"My father was…" Adulfr cut himself off, realising what Fishlegs was getting at. "Oh. You're saying I should care…because… I know what it feels like" he said. His brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Adulfr started to feel like his stomach was twisting inside out. He greatly disliked the sensation. Perhaps an apology would make it stop. "Alright. I'll apologise. If it's really that important."

So Fishlegs unlocked the cell door. Adulfr wondered how long it would take for his luck to improve, now that he was 'doing the right thing'. He followed the other man towards the forge; the villagers gave him a wide berth, glaring distrustfully, and the dragons hissed at him. He ignored them all. They reached the forge, where Snotlout was pounding at the anvil, straightening an axle rod.

The hammer blows reverberated through Adulfr's chest. It wasn't hard to imagine Snotlout was picturing him on the anvil instead. At last, the blacksmith stopped and plunged the hot metal into a water bucket to cool. "Hey, Fishface" he greeted idly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "What brings you by – what's that guy doing here?" Snotlout demanded, scowling and gesturing to Adulfr.

Adulfr was starting to rethink this whole venture. Fishlegs just frowned disapprovingly and calmly explained "He's here to apologise, actually."

"Oh, yeah? This oughta be good." Snotlout turned to Adulfr expectantly.

"I'm…" Adulfr stopped, the words sticking in his throat. "I…am…" This was proving far more difficult than he'd expected it to. He didn't understand; apologising to Hiccup had been easier, and he'd done far worse to that man than this one. He clenched his fists and just decided to spit it out. "I'm sorry."

Snotlout raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Adulfr saw Fishlegs make a 'go on' gesture. "For getting your…father killed. I, uh, know how…how that…" Adulfr made a frustrated noise, spun around and yelled at the small crowd of observers, "don't you all have something better to do?!"

That was why it felt harder this time – there were too many people watching, judging him. His outburst made a lot of them drift away, with plenty of insulted glares thrown in. Fishlegs winced, wringing his hands. "Oh, no. I should've realised you wouldn't want to…I just thought it would be better if people knew you were apologising. I'm sorry, Adulfr" he said, and he was clearly sincere.

"Careful, Fish. He's probably plotting your downfall as we speak over this" Snotlout quipped. Hookfang didn't think his riders joke was amusing, and made his opinion known by snorting smoke in Snotlout's face. "Agh! Hookfang!"

*Tell a better joke, next time* the Fire-Scale retorted, before returning to his nap. Curving his neck around Meatlug, who was also having a quick doze, was merely a coincidence, of course. "Hooky's right, Snotlout" insisted Fishlegs, much to Adulfr's bewilderment. "That wasn't funny. He's trying to change."

Snotlout scoffed. "Sure he is. I bet he's totally not doing it to make us let our guards down, just like he definitely didn't spread lies about Hiccup for years, and certainly didn't but a bounty on his head or send dragon hunters after him" he drawled sarcastically. "It's not like we can't trust what this guy says. Oh wait."

Adulfr's hands were clenched into fists. He felt insulted. "How dare you? I am trying to do the right thing now. I didn't have to apologise to you, but I did it anyway. I'm starting to regret that now, if this is what I get in return" he said.

"Oh, what were you expecting? That you'd say 'sorry' and I'd say 'it's fine' and everything would be sunshine and rainbows?" Snotlout asked, still sarcastic but with an edge sharp as a blade to his voice. "I have every reason to suspect you have some ulterior motive. You're just doing this to get something out of it; freedom, or perks, or…I don't know what. But I for one ain't falling for it."

Snotlout turned and strode back to the forge, pulling the cooled axle out of the water. "Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious? Apology not accepted" he sneered.

Adulfr felt humiliated, tense and frustrated. Trying to apologise had done nothing to make him feel better; if anything it made him feel worse. Fishlegs frowned at Snotlout. "We'll talk later" he warned, before beckoning to Adulfr.

With nothing else to do, and nowhere else to go (except back to his cell, and he refused to sink that low), Adulfr followed Fishlegs through the streets. Eventually they reached a small house that obviously belonged to Fishlegs himself; the Gronckle carved above the door was a pretty big giveaway. At least, Adulfr somehow doubted he'd be taken to the house of a complete stranger.

Fishlegs opened the door. "Come on" he urged, stepping inside. Warily, Adulfr followed. The door was closed behind him, and then Fishlegs showed him to a storeroom in the back with a large, bulging sack hanging from the ceiling. "I figured you could use a stress reliever" Fishlegs explained, gesturing to the sack. "It makes for a good punching bag. Knock yourself out." He stepped aside.

Now this was more like it! Adulfr took a deep breath…and threw a flurry of hard, fast punches into the heavy weight of the sack. It felt good. As he thoroughly beat the sack of grain, or maybe sand, the tension drained from his body. At last, he slowed and came to a stop, panting. "I haven't…done that in a while."

Fishlegs hesitated. "I can…probably get one of them hung up in your, err…"

"My cell. Yes. That would…help. Thank you" he added as an afterthought.

"You're welcome."

"So, now what?"

"Back at the forge…it didn't go as planned. That's my fault" Fishlegs admitted, "but sometimes – for things like this – just saying sorry isn't enough. You need to show people that you're trying to change for the better" he explained. "The question is, how best to do that…I have one idea, but I don't think you'll like it."

Adulfr frowned. "Why? What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Um, community service. Let's say, everyone who lost a loved one to the war you started, you do something to help them instead" Fishlegs explained.

"You're right, I don't like this idea. Why should I let myself be treated as a thrall?" Adulfr demanded, indignant. "They'd just try to humiliate me."

"You kept thralls. That's wrong, Adulfr, I told you" Fishlegs declared. "People aren't property. You wouldn't like it if someone treated you that way, so why would you expect anyone else to like it either? Because they don't. Besides, haven't you ever just done something nice for somebody else?" he asked.

Adulfr frowned. "Why would I? No one ever…" He cut himself off quickly.

Fishlegs gave him a sympathetic look anyway, damn it. "No one's ever done something nice for you, d'you mean?" he asked, far too perceptive for Adulfr's liking. It went against so much of what he knew to seem vulnerable like this.

Fidgeting, Adulfr muttered "I suppose. Except…" He gestured vaguely to the punching bag onto which he'd unloaded his frustration. You're trying to do the right thing he reminded himself. "If I did as you suggest…would that count as doing the right thing?" Adulfr inquired, just to be absolutely sure about this.

"Yeah…but maybe it isn't such a good idea. I know you don't wanna be around people much" Fishlegs acknowledged. "I'm sure we can think of something" –

"No" Adulfr said sharply. "I mean – look, I…appreciate the thought" he admitted awkwardly, "but we both know I'm still a prisoner. I'm not supposed to enjoy this punishment. I should…defer to your judgement. In this case, at least."

Fishlegs nodded slowly. "Alright. Well, I'll ask around and see if there's anything you could do…um, do you want to come with me or would you rather stay here?" he asked. "Aegir'll be out playing with Helena all day, so…" he shrugged.

"You're suggesting that I stay here in your house" Adulfr raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you trusted me. You shouldn't. You do know that, right?"

Fishlegs replied, "I know. But it's not about me trusting you. It's about you trusting me. So that you'll let me help. Does this mean you don't want to stay?"

Adulfr thought about it, and realised he didn't want to stay inside, even if it wasn't in a cell. "I'd rather go up on the cliff, actually" he decided at last. Fishlegs nodded, and said he'd ask Meatlug to escort Adulfr up to that spot. I don't know why he says 'ask' when he's just trained her to do this the man thought as they left the house and he made for the cliff, tailed by the Gronckle.

Sitting on the cliff edge, overlooking the ocean, made Adulfr feel strangely calm. That dragon of Fishlegs was dozing nearby; Adulfr wasn't sure if she'd even notice were he to fall off the edge, but he decided not to test that idea. On the far side of the island, at the Academy, he could see students jumping off of the cliff and getting caught by their dragons. It was some kind of trust exercise.

A shadow passed over him, and then a familiar lithe black dragon landed gracefully nearby. "Where's Fishlegs?" asked Hiccup, dismounting. Meatlug started awake, blinked sleepily, and gave a clumsy bow to her Alphas.

"I pushed him off the cliff" Adulfr replied sarcastically. The Gronckle apparently didn't understand sarcasm - it didn't fully register that she had understood his speech - and hastily buzzed over to check. When she saw no sign of her precious rider splattered below, she turned and growled at Adulfr. "Oh, shut up."

"Okay, so where is he really?" Hiccup prompted, as Meatlug retreated, glaring.

Adulfr rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Not that it's any of your business, but he went to see if there was any…community service I could do. I came up here for some peace and quiet – aside from the snoring Gronckle" he added snidely.

"Stand down, Meatlug" Hiccup ordered when she snarled at him. "What, err, kind of community service? I didn't think you wanted to do anything like that."

"I don't. He said it would be doing the right thing, if I…repaid my debt to those who lost someone because of me" Adulfr explained. "The more right things I do, the more chance I have of gaining this good fortune you enjoy so freely."

Hiccup wondered if he should say that doing the right thing in the hopes of getting rewarded was sort of missing the point, but thought better of it. Besides, wasn't it better for the man to have any incentive to do good, even if it was sort of selfish? "Well in that case, you're in luck, considering I have this" he remarked, taking something wrapped in cloth out of Toothless' saddlebag.

"What is that?"

"A present. Close your eyes" said Hiccup. When Adulfr frowned suspiciously, he rolled his own and added "just, humour me. Please."

With a sigh, Adulfr closed his eyes. "Hold your hand out." He did so. A weight appeared in it – something made of wood and fabric. "Okay, you can open 'em."

When he did so, Adulfr looked down at his hand to see…a prosthetic? A rounded hook, with a wooden base and a stiffened sleeve, but exquisitely made. The metal was free of rust and so shiny he could see his distorted reflection in it. The wood was sanded ice smooth, with small wolves carved in a ring around it.

"You…you made this…for me?" Adulfr asked, his voice surprisingly quiet.

"Yeah. Well, most of it. Tuffnut made the base" Hiccup explained. "Try it on."

He slipped the cloth over the stump of his left arm. It wasn't scratchy, like the old spare hook he was sometimes allowed to use. There was even padding before the wood. A simple strap let him tighten it himself, so long as he held his forearm straight up. It wasn't the same as having his hand back, of course, but it was still better than nothing. Adulfr hadn't expected this at all. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." In the forest below, something exploded. Hiccup sighed. "We have to go. Uh, good luck with…y'know…" he trailed off awkwardly. Adulfr nodded. Hiccup nodded. Then he swung into the saddle and Toothless took off.

Fire blasts. Screams of anger, pain, fear. The hiss of poisonous arrows and tangling nets streaking through the air, butchered bodies lying sprawled across the ground, the relentless march of the enemy. He saw it all, and was helpless.

*Help! Brother!*

Selena. His sister. Where was she? He had to find her!

There she was – surrounded. No! He flew faster than he ever had before, wings burning, the wind whistling across them as he shrieked out the sound that made any and all foes cower in fear. His fire surged up from his chest into his throat and spilled forth into his maw. He spat it out – but still the axe came down –

*No!* Artemis gasped, jerking awake with a heaving breath. His pupils slit, his nostrils flared and his ear-fins stood erect as he took in his surroundings. The cavern looked no different. A shadow moved outside and made him freeze, baring sharp fangs – but no, it was merely the wind moving a tree branch.

On impulse, he rose to his feet and crept towards the entrance, slinking around twisted fangs of stone. Staying in the shadows, where his dark scales would hide him, Artemis reached the cave mouth and peered out. There was no sign of humans, aside from the small nest of them down in the valley. Those ones were probably harmless, so long as they didn't foolishly try to steal any human prey.

His ear-flaps twitched at the sound of a small noise behind him. Retreating from the opening, Artemis padded back into the depths of the cavern. His mate Iceheart emerged from behind the rocks, her glacier blue eyes glimmering with concern. In the light of the sun that found its way inside, her pure white scales shone (1). *What's wrong? Is there danger?* she asked him, tense and agitated.

Artemis slowly blinked his golden eyes at her, peace. *No, dearest* he assured her, *I had a nightmare and wanted to be sure we were safe, that's all.*

Iceheart padded closer and nuzzled him. *Tell me* she said firmly, but quietly, so as not to disturb their daughter, who lay curled nearby in a bed of ashes. Like her dam, Snowdrop's scales were mostly alabaster but for her ear flaps, spines and tail fins. Whilst her right eye was blue, her left eye was brilliant gold. (2)

Artemis lay down beside his mate and explained *I dreamed my nest was attacked by humans, and my little sister was slain. I failed to save her.*

Leaning closer, Iceheart told him *It was only a dream. Your sister won't be anywhere near humans; if any of those creatures found your nest, they'd be killed* she declared, with a satisfied snort. Licking at her shoulder, over the scar that ran across it, Iceheart added *Besides, you'll see your old family soon, and then we'll finally have a home.* She had a home once, but she could not return.

She went back to sleep, but Artemis remained awake, lost in thought. It had been so long since he'd seen them; his mother, father, and younger sibling. Had they missed him, he wondered? He'd missed them, of course. Artemis had meant to go back for ages now, yet his guilt stopped him from doing so. 'Any day now' slowly but surely became 'one day', and 'one day' might never come.

Artemis had felt stifled back in Myrkr. As the eldest son of the Queen and her mate-consort, he was the future Alpha. It wasn't that he didn't want to be alpha; he took it as his due, but there was surely so much more to life than ruling a nest? His dam, Phoebe, always said it was better for them not to stray too far. The world was too dangerous, with the humans who hunted them.

Humans. How could such weak-fleshed, stomach-baring animals pose a threat to dragons, the most lethal of creatures? Any human that strayed into their territory was killed before they could find Swift-Wings there and escape to tell anyone or come back to hunt. Yet Artemis wondered why they were so scary.

His sire, Crescent, had been a scout in youth before courting and wooing (to every other drake's surprise) the young Queen-to-be at the time. Their kits grew up hearing many incredible tales about distant places and strange dragons. To the west was bounty and safe havens; to the east and south lay danger and death. Humans lived in those places, with their traps and nets and killing-things.

Despite this, Artemis inherited his sire's wanderlust. If humans were really so terrible, then why stop at killing the ones who got too close? Wouldn't it be better if there were no hunters at all? He didn't want to kill all humans; he wasn't a monster. Still, if there were no human hunters left, his pack wouldn't have to stay in hiding. They could roam wherever they pleased without fear.

What a foolish egg-for-brain he'd been. An eel-eater! It was his idea to go out and kill as many hunters as possible to make the world (so huge, too huge) better for dragons everywhere. He wasn't alone at first. His friends came with him, all five of them ready for anything, or so they thought. That was, until…

One by one, he'd lost them all. Stygian was brought down when they attacked some hunters, entangled in a rock-and-ropes trap. He'd fallen into a river and they couldn't get close enough to drag him out. Cimmerian was slain when he went hunting alone and they found him impaled on the spikes of a giant biting-trap. Celeste had screamed at him and flown right into the hunters arrows.

Artemis didn't know what happened to Brunet. His last friend left to find home again, urging him to come back, but he just…couldn't. Not after he'd failed like this. Some future alpha he was. The pack would be better off without him. So he'd wandered alone, avoiding humans at all costs. He watched from a distance as his kind were slain, too cowardly to try and help, too guilty to turn away.

Eventually, it felt as though he was the only Swift-Wing in the world (but he wasn't, his pack was still hidden and safe, it had to be). One day, Artemis had come across a battle pit, where humans locked up dragons and made them fight. He might have sadly left them to their fate – it wasn't safe to be out in the day, but he'd been starving – if not for seeing, like a ghost, a Swift-Wing there.

Only the dragon wasn't a Swift-Wing; but similar. Small, white as snow, and vicious. The first opponent they faced was a Fire-Scale; they blasted him in the face and leapt for his throat when he was distracted. Even from a distance, Artemis could see that scars littered their body, and one ear-flap was shorter.

As he watched, he remembered all the dragons he couldn't, or hadn't, saved. He felt he needed to save this one. So that night, Artemis did what he'd sworn he would never do again, and approached humans. The pit wasn't well defended; he could sneak around in the shadows, taking out the hunters guarding their captives one by one. When taken by surprise, humans were rather easy to kill.

Artemis still wasn't sure how he'd managed to kill every hunter without getting caught, but once the grisly work was done, he could blast open the dome above the pit, and the cages. Then it was simply a matter of biting off the muzzles, and breaking the chains that held them down; which was easier said than done.

The white dragon, the one he'd done all of this to rescue, was in the last cage Artemis blasted open. A drakaina, shaped like a Swift-Wing but more rounded, with fewer nubs and shorter, blunter spines. Pure white, like fresh fallen snow, and startling blue eyes. Eyes that glared at him with anger and fear radiating from slit pupils, as she'd hackled and snarled at him, *Stay away from me!*

Artemis exhaled at the memory, and gazed fondly down at Iceheart as she slept beside him. They had come a long way since then. He grew weary. Tonight they would fly onwards, following the sunset and the stars west. Home. It was surely okay for him to sleep a little. No humans had seen them arrive, and none would see them leave. He and his family – both here and waiting – they were all safe.

"…Guard yourselves against temptation. Guard against the sins of the flesh…"

The priest's voice rolled through the cavernous church, echoing in sepulchral silence from the buttresses of stone that supported the domed roof high above. The Church of St Anthony was the largest Orthodox Church in Dyrrachium, able to hold hundreds of devoted worshippers of their lord and saviour Jesus Christ.

At the furthest end of the farthest pew sat a lone stranger, afforded a wide berth by his fellow churchgoers. Perhaps it was the sense that this was a private soul, who did not suffer intrusions to his personal space lightly. Or perhaps, with his strangely pale skin and white hair, and his corpse-like thinness, they thought the stranger might be the most feared creature after a dragon; a vampire.

The stranger himself cared little for what anyone might think of him. He had heard all the whispers; had walked on silent feet to stand behind those muttering about him and greet them with a chilling smile. Dhampir, they called him; he still bore a scar from that one fool who attempted to drive a stake of whitethorn through his heart. It had ended much worse for the other man.

He much preferred the epithet Dragon-Slayer. After all, it was far more befitting of his reputation. A hunter, yes, but not of human blood. The man had travelled far and wide, striking down as many as he could of the unholy creatures that the Devil had unleashed into the sinful world of man. He would atone for his sins, pay for his transgressions with their blood, and earn a place in highest heaven.

Grimmel did not hunt dragons for the sport of it, or the wealth. He did it to end the scourge of these demons in the flesh, in the name of the lord Jesus Christ. In the name, also, of everyone who had lost their lives to the monsters in their midst. He dreamed of a world in which all dragons were slain, or at least feared mankind so much that they fled to the furthest, darkest corners of the Earth.

His head was bowed in prayer, but he couldn't help glancing up when the priest intoned "Beware of those in the Godless north, rumoured to live amongst Satan's brood. Beware those who parley with dragons, these sinners which God has condemned. For it is written in the Bible, The dragon is greed and malice incarnate; whomever is foolish enough to call it ally, is not worthy of the Lord."

Grimmel's brow furrowed, for the priests words did not make sense. Yes, there were still places where heathens clung to the old pagan ways. Those who rejected Christ chose death. What concerned him more was this rumour about people living with dragons. It had to be a mistake, surely? He'd misunderstood.

It was probably just a metaphor. That, or these heathens lived with dragons the same way that army he'd heard of had 'lived with' the beasts. The same way he did, as much as he loathed it. To use them as tools – as weapons? That was unsettling. At least he was doing it for the greater good. Grimmel resolved to ask the priest after the sermon, and have the matter settled once and for all.

He waited until everyone else had left the church, before rising from his seat and walking up the nave. "Father?" he prompted; the priest startled. Grimmel smiled his most charming smile and gave a small bow. "Forgive me. I, ah, have a question. Something I heard in the sermon…troubled me" he admitted calmly.

"Oh, I see. Well, you're more than welcome to ask anything" the priest nodded.

"Thank you, Father. It was that part about heathens in the north living with dragons…what did you mean by that? I assume it's merely a figure of speech…" Grimmel offered, part of him hoping for a nod of agreement. Instead, the priest mopped his brow, a grave expression on his face. "You mean it was all true?"

The priest sighed heavily. "It troubles me, too" he admitted. "Traders and merchants – dragon hunters – coming to and fro, talk of dragons being ridden like horses into battle. Dragons the size of mountains, slain or conquered by one called the Dragon Master. There's even…" the priest lowered his voice, "whispers of Night Demons called from the deepest pit of Hell by this man." (3)

Grimmel prided himself on his self-control; emotional fools did not last long when doing God's work and slaying dragons. Yet his alarm must have shown on his face, because the priest hastily gave a reassurance. "Of course, it probably is all just the tall tales of merchants. People do tend to exaggerate these things."

With a stiff nod, Grimmel replied "yes. Tall tales, indeed. Thank you for the help, but I should be going. May the Lord protect you" he said with a respectful bow.

"Farewell, and may the Lord protect you also" the priest replied. Grimmel turned on his heel and walked down the aisle, closing his ears to the sound of the priest muttering a prayer for protection against vampires. Honestly. People had no sense of subtlety. He strode through the cobbled streets, mind racing, towards the harbour where his ship was moored, set aside from all the rest.

Grimmel despised all dragons, but these – Night Demons, Night Furies, Dark Deaths; fitting names for the embodiment of wrath – he had a particular hatred for. It was his life's work to kill as many of them as possible, so that never again would people have to live in fear. He had believed that all of them were gone.

Stepping aboard his ship, Grimmel made his way below deck. The Demoneaters (4) were slumped in their cages. One of them gave a low wail of hunger. "Silence!" he snarled. He detested them, but they were necessary, for the Devil in his wickedness had made it so that the best way of destroying dragons was with another dragon. Or perhaps God, in his wisdom, had tricked Satan into it.

He went to his cabin, shut the door, and lit a single candle, kneeling before the small shrine. His long fingers, paled from countless nocturnal hunts, folded together in prayer. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner" he murmured, eyes closed. "Let me be thy sword to vanquish those accursed creatures. I beseech thee, deliver me unto my quarry…and I will slay them all."

(1) In case you're wondering, Iceheart is a 'Light Fury', but unlike the movie version she can't turn invisible, and certainly not by flying through her own fire. Also, the 'hidden world' as seen in THW will not appear in this story.

(2) I've been wanting to introduce a dragon with heterochromia iridium for ages, and a hybrid seemed like the perfect opportunity to do just that.

(3) It's been ten years since Drago's defeat, and rumours/myths about that are only just starting to reach Albania. Grimmel is in medieval Durrës.

(4) Just to be clear, the Demoneaters are Deathgrippers, just called something different since that's how this version of Grimmel sees them.