Retcon Alert: If you haven't read chapter 11 recently, you may want to go back and re-read it, as I've added some additional dialogue between Astrid and Stormfly. In short: Astrid now knows that Stormfly forgot her original name and chose to go by the name Astrid gave her.
Chapter 14: Armistice
Hiccup hurt. He lay at an awkward angle, causing painful cricks in his neck and back. His wings ached from too long spent pinned to his body. Worst of all, his head throbbed in time with his pulse; every beat of his heart felt like the banging of a great war-drum beside his ear.
He couldn't breathe properly. Something was wrapped around his muzzle, constricting it. He absently raised a forepaw. Before he could reach his snout, his claws struck something solid.
The memories rushed back; the cove, being ambushed by his father. His eyes shot open.
Above him, the first light of dawn brightened the clouds. Between him and freedom hung a net of thick black iron chain.
Hiccup shot to his feet. In a flash he took in the grey stone walls and floor, the heavy reinforced doors, and the Night Fury tied to a cart in front of him. With a sense of dread, and rising panic, he realised where he was;
The Kill Ring.
The predawn silence was broken by distant voices. Hiccup couldn't make out their words - his head still rang from the hammer blow - but he could tell they were getting closer. He instinctively tried to spread his wings.
Cold! He tried to rear, but his collar struck something behind him, and he stumbled forwards. He backed up a half-step, before the thick wooden ring around his neck stopped him.
Panic rose in him and he pulled back frantically, muscles straining as he jerked against the restraints.
The cart rocked and chains rattled, but held firm.
Think! Hiccup forced himself to still, and to breathe as deeply as he could through his nostrils. These carts were built to contain Monstrous Nightmares; he wasn't going to get out using brute force.
He looked over at Muninn. Much like the people that built it, the design of the cart was simple and sturdy. Two iron bars looped over her back - the icy chill of the metal had startled him earlier - and a large wooden collar - more of a yoke, really - was clamped around her neck. It's sides were wide enough to stop her backing out of the contraption, while three chains secured it to the front of the cart.
The clasp and hinge of the yoke were weak points, Hiccup thought; but there was no way he could reach those. If he could get the muzzle off, he could hit the anchor points of the chains with his fire. However unless he wanted to use a blast at point-blank range, he'd have to melt them, which would take time.
The arena gate clanked open. Hiccup froze. His eyes locked on his father, but all he saw was Stoick's emotionless stare the night before - as if watching a merchant display his wares - while his son fought in the mud before him. A muffled whimper crept out through his muzzle.
"So," Gobber began, standing beside the chief. "You're telling me you actually believe the lassie's story, and one of these beasties is our Hiccup?"
Stoick simply glared at him.
"RIght, glad we cleared that up," the smith continued. "Any idea on how we're meant to tell which one?"
"Astrid said the other one was female."
Gobber nodded. "Anything else? You know, something we could use?"
Stoick rounded on him. "Bork was your kinsman, I'd have thought you-"
"What do you want from me, Stoick?!" Gobber shot back. "Bork's papers may detail how to kill every dragon we know of with any kind of weapon imaginable, but there's not much about sexing them! Shall I walk up to them and say 'excuse me mister angry-fire-breathing-reptile, do you mind raising your tail- Oh my, what big teeth you have'?"
The sound Stoick made as he exhaled was somewhere between a sigh and a growl.
"You're the master of dragon training," Stoick reminded him, "And you knew the boy..."
... better than I ever did. Hiccup finished.
"Your expert opinion, if you please, Gobber."
"Aye chief," Gobber muttered. His brows furrowed and he habitually stroked his moustache as he thought.
"That one," he said eventually.
And pointed at Muninn.
"He's bulkier than the other one," Gobber explained. "According to the men, he fled when you attacked, the other one tried to fight - damn near killed Spitelout before they brought it down."
No! Gobber it's me! Hiccup wanted to shout. He rattled his chains and strained his jaws against the leather binding them, to no avail. Stoick took a deep breath, and with the air of a man heading to his execution, slowly walked over to Muninn.
Metal clanged behind his head. Hiccup winced and let out a small whimper; the ringing steel just behind his ears pierced straight through him. He looked to the side, Gobber was stood there, his hook poised threateningly over the bars encircling him.
"Quiet down you devil," he growled. "Don't you think you've hurt him enough already?"
Hiccup stared up at his former mentor. Come on Gobber, he begged, willing him to realise his mistake.You practically raised me; can't you see it's me? There was no sudden flash of recognition, only a grim, hateful sneer.
With a silent moan he sank down onto the cart.
Stoick Haddock heard his heart pounding heavily in his ears, and felt sweat collecting on his forehead as he crossed the ring. He stopped several paces away and looked down on the Night Fury.
It was strange; with all the mystery and superstition surrounding it, he had expected a hulking, monstrous beast of legend. Instead, he'd personally killed Nadders larger than the 'offspring of lightning and death itself'.
"Not so fearsome when your foes can see you, are you?"
The Night Fury's eyes were pointed in his direction, but they seemed unfocused, like they weren't really seeing him. Stoick studied its - no, his - features, looking for something, anything that reminded him of his son.
All he saw was the face of the enemy that had taken his wife.
"Oh, Hiccup..." he mumbled into his beard. The ...things on the side of the dragon's head twitched. Stoick coughed. "Son..." he began.
The Fury raised his head from its awkward position resting on the collar, and glared at him, it's pupils narrowed into tiny black slits. A furious hiss issued from his muzzle.
Stoick instinctively stepped back. He clenched his fist at his side, fighting the urge to draw his weapon. He met the dragon's stare with his own.
"Hiccup..." he tried. Words failed him again. He desperately searched those toxic green eyes for any trace of his son.
What do I want? He wondered.
After that terrible day, so long ago, when Val was taken, he'd thrown himself into his work as chief. For a time, his life had consisted solely of supply inventories and plans for the coming year - anything to keep the grief at bay. Eventually, it became his reason for being; protect the village, make them strong, make sure no one else suffers your loss.
Now, he held the key to finishing his life's work, and part of him wished he could throw it away, just so he could have his son back.
The Night Fury's cold reptilian eyes bored into his own, full of wrath.
Only Loki, of all the gods, could be this cruel; answering a prayer in such a way as to make you wish you never uttered it.
"Why did you do it? Why did you attack Dökkhöfn?"
The Night Fury before him didn't react.
"Damn it, they were your kin!" That was the worst of it. They wouldn't know the full extent of the carnage until the ships sailed again come springtime, but there were at least a dozen families on Berk with ties to the Meatheads. If only Hiccup and the other Night Fury hadn't been so damned destructive, he could have argued with the council for keeping him for training, or to sell to dragon trappers. But no, now his people were out for blood, and if he stood in their way, they would turn on him.
Still, the Night Fury remained impassive.
"Why, Hiccup?"
No response.
"Do something, damn you!" Stoick roared. The creature in front of him flinched, and for a moment he saw bestial terror flash in his eyes. Stoick's anger left in a rush. He felt cold.
He glanced up at the sky. Oh gods, Val, what do I do?
Forcing down his pride, Stoick lowered himself to one knee and looked the dragon that was his son in the eyes. "Hiccup," he forced out. "Son, I'm sorry. Not just for... this," he gestured to the cart and the chains enclosing them. "I should have been there for you. After Val... It was..."
He took a shuddering breath. "I can help, but I need you to show me its still you in there, please..." he extended a shaking hand towards his muzzle.
The Night Fury jerked away and snarled at him.
For a moment, Stoick was back in his burning house, watching his love disappear into the dark and smoke.
He swayed on his feet. "You're not my son," he gasped out.
The leather grip of his sword creaked beneath his fist - he didn't remember reaching for the weapon. "My son was a Viking," he growled, rising to his full height. "I raised him to never betray his blood, not to fall for the wiles of a demon queen!"
"Stoick."
The chief whirled. Spitelout stood by the arena entrance. "What?!"
"The fleet's ready to sail, chief." As he spoke, Spitelout kept his gaze fixed on the far wall. Stoick wasn't sure how much his half-brother had seen; but the man knew enough to not say anything.
"Good," he nodded. "Gobber! Meet us on the docks. Bring both of them."
The smith gave him a long look, something that may have been pity in his eyes.
Stoick span and marched off before he could respond.
I'm sorry, Val.
The chill wind heralded winter as it whistled over the clifftops of Berk, slicing Astrid to the bone. She paid her discomfort little notice; she watched the docks below, where her people prepared to sail to their doom.
Ragnar Ingerman and his shipwrights had worked through the night to make a pair of longboats, damaged in the summer, seaworthy. The rough cut planks stood out even from her position on the clifftops. The ships would be slow, and the unseasoned wood wouldn't last a season in the water, but they would carry their passengers to Helheim's gate.
And into the jaws of the Queen, Astrid thought.
Despite the shipbuilders' heroic efforts, the majority of the warriors were packed into fishing ships, their hulls pushed dangerously low in the water by the weight of men and steel packed into them. Somewhere amongst the organised chaos below was the Sjóknapa, and onboard, her parents.
She watched as Hiccup and the Night Fury were wheeled down the ramps, and hoisted onto the longships. One of them - she couldn't tell which at this distance - panicked as they were lifted, bucking against their restraints, causing them to swing wildly through the air.
She replayed the last precious minutes with her parents in her mind, trying to commit it to memory. She had begged them not to go, but, as she knew they would, when the call came to ready the ships, they obeyed; As warriors they were honour-bound to follow their chief, even to the grave.
At last, the Night Furies were secured, and the chieftain's horn was sounded. The two longships unfurled their sails, and lead Berk's fleet between the sentinel statues, out on the Hooligan tribe's last great raid.
Astrid stood there, ignoring the cold creeping into her limbs, until the final ship shrunk to a speck, and at last vanished over the horizon.
Her Uncle's words - those she had echoed to Stormfly less than a day ago - taunted her.
When we are knocked down, we have two choices; we can roll over and admit defeat, or we can grit our teeth, get back up and fight.
What was the point of getting back up? She asked herself, when all it does is give the enemy a chance to knock you down harder? What was it the southerners said? Something about discretion being the better part of courage?
It's all so messed up, she thought. What had compelled her to follow Hiccup into the woods that morning which felt so long ago? And then, when she witnessed him transform into a Night Fury...
"I should have just left him to starve." It wasn't like much of the village would've - had - missed him.
"So, why didn't you?"
Astrid spun around. "Orvar? What are you doing here?"
"Ma and Pa went with the ships, so I..." her little brother trailed off. "Why did you do it, sis?"
She sighed. "He's the chief's blood, Orvy. We may not like him, but it's our duty to protect him all the same."
He nodded seriously.
She turned her back to him, staring out towards the horizon. "At first," she began, "I was just helping Hiccup."
"How did you know he was still, you know, him?"
"I had my suspicions after he was transformed," she explained. "The next day, I found him in the forest and he proved it by writing runes in the dirt." She took a breath. "He was Stoick's heir, and he was starving. I couldn't leave him like that."
In the distance, a gap in the clouds cast brilliant rays down on the ocean. Any other day, she would have taken it as a sign of hope.
"He was the first to find out," she continued. "One of the Queen's dragons, a Nadder, found him. Hiccup killed her-" she heard a sharp intake of breath from Orvar. "-and with her dying breath, she told him that the dragons are just as much victims in this war as we are; that the Queen forces them to fight us.
"The next day, I met Stormfly in the ring."
"Stormfly?"
She laughed humorlessly. "The training Nadder. Of course, I didn't give her that name until later that night.
"At the end of the bout, I slashed her wing pretty badly." She felt a fresh pang of guilt, remembering how she'd nearly crippled the dragon who'd saved her and Hiccup time and time again. "Afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to her, and what Hiccup had told me; that Stormfly was just an innocent victim.
"You heard what happened next. I went back to her, she let me treat her wing, then sheltered me when the storm hit." She glanced back at her brother. "I nearly died in that Storm, Orvar, but Stormfly, she sheltered me beneath her wings, shared her warmth with me; the very person who'd mutilated her that morning.
"After that..." she sighed again. "It wasn't just about Hiccup any more. Stormfly took me flying with her - it's incredible Orvar! The freedom! I can't describe it!" Her tone sobered. "Then the Raid came."
She paused, remembering the screams, and the flames that had claimed so many lives.
"Stormfly saved Hiccup's life twice that night. We spoke after the battle, and-"
"Wait, you spoke to Stormfly?"
"Yes, in a way. She understands Norse, Hiccup understands her, and can write Norse."
"Oh, wow."
"I knew then that we had to kill the Queen. Ending the war is the only way to save Berk, and..." she hesitated. Yes, she told herself, this is right. "...freeing her kin is the least I can do to repay the life-debt I owe her many times over."
Orvar went quiet. She turned her gaze back out to sea. Time passed. Eventually, in a thin, wavering voice, her brother asked "Are Ma and Pa really going to die?"
She turned to face him. "I..." What could she say? That there were countless more dragons than he'd seen in his short life packed into the mountain? That the Queen was a monster spawned from the depths of Muspelheim? That the tribe was sailing towards them with no idea what they were about to face?
Eventually the reason for her hesitation dawned on him. She saw the tears build up in his eyes, before a wordless sob escaped him and he lurched forwards, wrapping his arms around her.
"Be brave," she told him, awkwardly returning the embrace. "Yes, there are a lot of dragons at the nest, and the Queen is very strong, but Ma and Pa are great fighters, and they've got the rest of the village with them. They'll come back, you'll see."
"No!" Orvar sobbed into her tunic. "They're all going to die! Stop them, sis, please!"
It felt like he'd plunged a dagger into her heart. She felt tears of her own gathering. I couldn't even keep one dragon safe, how do you expect me to save all of Berk?
Footsteps pounded rapidly against the boards. Not now, Astrid thought, looking up.
Ruffnut skidded to a stop a few paces away, red-faced and panting.
"Astrid!" she gasped.
"Ruff! What are you still doing here?"
"Spitelout kicked us all off the raid," she explained between gasps. "He said that since you turned traitor, the rest of us couldn't be trusted either."
Astrid scowled.
"His words, not mine!" she exclaimed quickly.
"What do you want?"
"It's Snotlout," she explained. "He didn't take it well; he's got it into his head to prove himself by killing the Nadder in the ring."
Astrid's breath caught in her throat. Stormfly!
"He's going to get himself killed," Ruffnut continued. "Please Astrid, if what they said about you is true; if you have some way of controlling that dragon, please, save him."
For a moment there was quiet; no sound but the whistling of wind and lapping of waves. Ruffnut stared at her, desperate and pleading.
"Ow! Sis!" Orvar squeaked. "Can't breathe!"
Astrid looked down at her brother; she'd unconsciously tightened her grip on him. She let go and turned to Ruffnut.
"If that idiot manages to hurt my dragon," she growled, "I'll kill him myself."
With that, she set off in a sprint towards the arena.
Behind her, Ruffnut uttered a dramatic sigh and took off in pursuit.
The jury-rigged longship battered its way through the swell. It met every wave with a sudden jerk, then a great splash as it forced the water to part, and finally a sharp drop into the trough on the other side.
The ship was flanked by a pair of fishing boats. Not designed for sailing in open ocean, and heavily laden with men and materiel, they rocked precariously in the waves. The only thing keeping the vessels afloat was that the sheer number of men packed onto them could bail out faster than the water came in.
The ship struck a particularly steep wave, and lurched violently. Hiccup's stomach flipped. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaws, fighting the urge to throw up. He really didn't want to vomit while wearing a muzzle.
Oh, the gods hate me, Hiccup moaned. In the few short days since he gained his flight, he'd twisted and turned his way through the air in every way imaginable, without once feeling queasy. Yet, despite the seas being mild for the time of year, his stomach had turned as soon as they'd left the harbour.
"We meet again," Stoick murmured - his voice carrying from the prow to Hiccup's sensitive ears. "You can burn our homes, kill our friends, but we will not be quelled so easily." Hiccup saw the horns on his helmet shift as he glanced upward, and spoke in prayer. "Odin Allfather, we dedicate the coming battle to you, and ask your blessing in return; grant us victory this day." Then, in a booming voice that rang out across the waves, he called out "Hard to port!"
The fleet swung about - leaving Hiccup's stomach behind. Slowly the fog banks of Helheim's Gate were dragged into view, bringing with them a wave of dread and icy fear. He instinctively pressed himself down onto the boards beneath him, pulling his wings tighter against his back.
Muzzled and bound, he could do little more than watch in horror as everyone he'd ever known sailed into the jaws of death.
Then, silence; complete, unearthly silence, as they passed into the Queen's realm. Even the seas themselves cowered in fear of the presence at the heart of the mists.
"Sound your positions, stay within earshot." Stoick barely raised his voice, but his words carried across the water like a shout.
"Here."
"One length to your stern."
"On your starboard flank."
Gobber hobbled up to the prow of the ship. "Listen... Stoick... I was overhearing some of the men just now and, well, some of them are wondering what it is we're up to here..."
His voice faded into the background as a low chattering echoed through the mists. Hiccup's ear fins twitched.
Invaders come. Return to the nest, my flock.
He half-rose to his paws. He was in danger. He needed to-
Auric light flared within. Icy energy surged.
He snapped to like he'd been hit with a bucket of seawater. He found himself staring off into the mists, in the direction of the nest. He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to stare at the wood beneath his claws, but still he felt her power tugging at him, pulling him towards the nest.
The chattering echoed through the mists again, and with it came the Queen's voice.
I know you are there, Yilbegän's child. I will not hold a grudge, all you need do is come back...
Come back... her words seemed to echo in his head. His eyes unfocused, and his gaze drifted up, over the side of the boat, towards...
No! He screwed his eyes shut, concentrating on the brilliant spark of light within. Focus Hiccup, keep her out...
The flock called again. His ear-fins fluttered in response.
"Shush," Stoick ordered, cutting off Gobber's rambling.
Why do you fight me? The Queen whispered. Don't you see it's hopeless?
Hiccup's eyes blinked open. She's right, isn't she? What, after all the pain and suffering he'd endured, had he actually accomplished? He'd sent close to a dozen innocent dragons to their deaths, all to give Muninn a brief taste of freedom, before cruelly snatching it away and delivering her back to the Queen.
His and Stormfly's grand dream of building a secret flock was just that; a fantasy. There was no way they could escape the Queen's sight long enough to build a force that would stand against her.
Stoick pushed through the warriors crowded on the deck and stood before him. He glared down at him with eyes full of pure, unbridled hate; eyesthat pierced to his very soul. Hiccup was no stranger to his father's disapproval, but there was no love, no compassion, no pity; nothing human in the face that looked down upon him.
His ear-fins flared. He felt the Queen probe his mind.
They don't deserve you, she whispered. Lead them to me, and I will set you free, then burn them all.
"Step aside." Stoick moved past him, heading for the steering oar at the back of the ship.
A gentle wave struck the ship, and his stomach twisted again. He blinked; he hadn't noticed his gaze drifting up towards the nest.
"Lead us home, devil," Stoick growled.
Alone, sick, and tired - so tired - of fighting, Hiccup did exactly that.
Again, Astrid found herself running headlong through the village. Before she had thought it quiet; now, though, it was truly, deathly, silent. Between the black patches of ground where houses had once stood, and the abandoned building sites, homes stood empty; their doors hanging open, their windows dark, no fires burning in their hearths.
She sprinted down the main street, and pounded across the bridge connecting the mainland to the training arena. She skidded to a stop on a slight rise, overlooking the ring. It seemed everyone left was pressed up against the bars encircling the arena.
Astrid's heart sank. She was too late.
There was a flash of fire in the ring, followed by a familiar screech.
Stormfly!
She rushed forwards. She couldn't just stand by. She needed to get in the ring; she had to-
A gnarled wooden staff blocked her path. "Where do you think you're going, girlie?"
She looked up. Straight at Mildew's twisted face. She barely resisted the urge to spit in it.
"Stoick gave us special instruction to keep you away from the dragons." Another older villager stepped up, hand resting on a worn hilt at his belt. The man didn't visit the village much, but she recognised him as one of Mildew's complainers.
Astrid ground her teeth in frustration. The gate was right there! Through the bars, she could see Snotlout and Stormfly circling in the middle of the arena. The Jorgenson boy hunkered behind a scorched wooden shield, clutching his sword in a white-knuckle grip.
"Run along girlie," Mildew drawled. "We wouldn't want an accident to happen before Stoick gets back, would we?"
Astrid barely registered the threat. At that moment, Snotlout bellowed and charged. Stormfly's tail whipped. Snotlout caught her spines on his shield, then dropped to his knees, slashing her leg as he slid past.
Stormfly screamed. Snotlout stood, his sword dripping red. The crowd cheered.
Astrid moved before she registered the impulse. She grabbed Mildew's staff and wrenched it from his hands. She spun, bringing the wood up just in time to catch the second guard's sword. She whipped the heavy end of the staff into his temple.
"Help!" Mildew cried "Somebody- Oof!" The old man crumpled as she brought the other end of the staff up between his legs.
Astrid exhaled a quick puff. Both guards had gone down in the span of a single breath. Adrenaline still flooding through her, she took in the situation. Over the clamour of the fight, the crowd hadn't heard Mildew's shout.
However, one person had. She saw Snotlout's eyes dart sideways and widen as they saw her standing, staff in hand, over the two men. Stormfly took advantage of his distraction and barrelled into him. Snotlout flew across the arena and landed heavily on his back. The enraged nadder pounced on him, pinning his chest beneath her uninjured foot.
Eyes narrowed into feral slits, Stormfly lowered her head and hissed furiously in his face, before slowly raising her neck.
Astrid saw what was about to happen, and for an instant, she wished she could let it. But she knew what she had to do.
"Stormfly, No!" she yelled, jamming the point of the staff beneath the portcullis and heaving. The gate levered up an inch. That was enough. She lunged forwards, grabbing the bars, and threw it open the rest of the way.
The staff clattered on the stone behind her, abandoned, as she rushed across the arena.
Her Nadder turned away from Snotlout for a moment. Her pupils widened slightly as she focused on her.
"It's okay Stormfly," she murmured, stepping to the side - to avoid the blind spot - and slowly extending her arm. As she reached for her Nadder's muzzle she glanced at the crowd, and spoke up. "This fight is over."
Snotlout snorted, and shoved at Stormfly's foot. The Nadder's head snapped back to him, eyes narrowed and hissing furiously. A quiet groan escaped the Jorgenson as the dragon's weight bore down on him.
Astrid spared him a moment's glance. He looked pained, but alive. "Keep still!" She focused back on her Nadder, taking a cautious step forwards. Stormfly dropped into a crouch, mantling her wings, concealing Snotlout from view. Her narrowed eyes locked onto Astrid, a constant low hiss escaping her jaws.
For a moment, the old Astrid resurfaced; she recognised the clearly enraged Nadder before them and screamed at her to flee. No, Astrid let out a slow breath. This was her Stormfly, her friend. She held her ground.
Remembering their first meeting, Astrid slowly stepped to her Nadder's side. Her dragon's tail swung around, creating a thorny barrier between them. Not taking her eyes from her Nadder's own, she slowly reached for the tail.
Her trembling hand brushed against one of the Nadder's spines. She gently applied pressure. It resisted for a heartbeat, then folded down flat against the tail. Astrid let out a soft sigh of relief. "That's it, girl" she breathed, smoothing down another spine. "It's me. You told me you came back to protect me, remember?"
Stormfly blinked, her pupils expanding to their normal size. The aggression drained out of her posture. She let out a quiet croon, extending her neck towards her.
"It's okay," Astrid told her, placing her hand on her muzzle. "You were scared; I know you'd never hurt me."
Stormfly hummed in appreciation, then broke the contact. She raised her wings and they looked down at Snotlout. He lay limp beneath Stormfly's claws, staring up at them with wide eyes.
Astrid kicked his sword away from where it had fallen nearby. It skittered across the arena floor. "Don't try anything stupid. Understand?"
He nodded mutely.
Astrid moved to stand beside her Nadder, resting a reassuring hand on her neck. "Let him up, girl."
Snotlout scrambled to his feet, and made to break for the exit.
"Wait." She eyed the blood spattering the ground, then held out her hand. "Your tunic."
Snotlout looked back at them, not comprehending.
"Your tunic," she repeated. "Give it to me."
Snotlout glanced from her to Stormfly and back again, before yanking off his tunic and undertunic, dumping both garments in her hand.
"Now get lost." Astrid growled.
Snotlout fled across the arena without looking back.
Astrid exhaled slowly, finally noticing the tense silence hanging over the ring. The audience consisted mainly of children and the elderly - those too young or too old to fight. A nervous muttering spread through them as grandparents shielded their charges behind them.
Astrid glanced at Stormfly. Blood still oozed from the cut on her leg; she needed to tend to the wound, but their favour with the crowd teetered on a knife's edge.
Stormfly nuzzled against her for a moment, crooning softly, then tossed her head towards the crowd with a chirp.
Astrid understood. I'm fine; do what you must.
"I-"
"Astrid! What have you done now?!" She spun around at the pounding of footsteps from the arena entrance. "Why did we just pass Snotlout running like he was being chased by Hel her-" Ruffnut skidded to a stop at the threshold, seeing the gate open and her standing next to Stormfly. "...oh."
A half-formed idea of a plan swam into Astrid's mind, and she pounced on it. She took a deep breath, then looked up at the crowd. "Please!" she shouted. "Listen to me!"
The muttering only grew in volume.
"Stoick's life is in danger!"
That got their attention.
"The chief doesn't know what he's sailing into," She told them. "But first, there's something you need to see." She looked back at Stormfly.
"The dragons, they're not like you think."
She glanced towards the entrance. Tuffnut had joined his twin in the passageway, along with Fishlegs and her brother. "Ruffnut, come here."
The female twin visibly gulped.
Astrid turned and met her Nadder's gaze. "It's okay. Stormfly here won't hurt you."
Ruffnut hesitantly stepped into the ring.
"Stormfly?" she asked, stopping a few paces away.
"She doesn't remember the name her parents gave her," Astrid explained. "I call her Stormfly. She says she likes it." Leaving Ruffnut to mull over the implications of her words, she knelt down beside Stormfly and dabbed at her leg wound with Snotlout's woolen overtunic. The cut was deep, but had missed its intended target - the tendons running up the back of the leg. "Come here," she told Ruffnut, holding out her hand. The twin didn't move. "She's hurt," Astrid explained, looking up at her, and indicating Stormfly. "I need your help."
Not taking her eyes of the dragon, Ruffnut slowly crouched down beside her. Astrid placed the wadded up tunic over Stormfly's wound, then took Ruff's hand and pressed it down on the improvised pad. "Hold this here while I talk to the others, okay?"
Ruffnut nodded stiffly. Astrid saw her eyes widen in panic as she stood up and backed away. Hoping that she hadn't just made a terrible mistake, she turned her back on the twin and met the eyes of the assembled population of Berk.
She took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"The dragons are not like you think," Astrid repeated. "They're intelligent, they understand Norse, and they're not our enemy." This drew a few murmurs of dissent from the crowd. "Their Queen forces them to fight us..."
Stormfly tuned her out, instead peering down at the human female crouched beside her. Her instincts told her to take wing, and find some quiet rock on which to lick her wounds in peace. However, Astrid needed her, and she seemed to trust this female, ...Ruffnut. So she stayed.
Stormfly took a deep breath of the human's scent. Her odour wasn't too dissimilar from Astrid's. Beyond the commonalities of all human scents there were highlights of fish, salt, and steel that she suspected were shared by all Vikings of this tribe. The most prominent odor was the acrid stench of fear rolling off her - far more than Astrid had when she first opened her cage.
She snorted, ruffling a few loose strands of the Viking's hair. The human fledgling jumped, letting out an involuntary squeak, and nearly dropped the fabric pressed against her leg.
"I bear you no ill," Stormfly crooned. "So long as you stay your claws, I shall do the same."
The human relaxed minutely, though she still kept her muscles tense and held the pad at arm's length.
Stormfly sighed inwardly; it would be too much to hope that every human would be as receptive and quick to change as her Astrid had been. She looked over at her, feeling incredibly proud of and thankful for her human; in less than half a moon's cycle, she had gone from being ready to kill her, to arguing her case to her people.
"... she's a hundred times bigger than the biggest dragon any of you have ever seen," Astrid continued, "and she has hundreds, maybe thousands of dragons with her. No Viking, no matter how brave, could hope to take the mountain alone. We have to stop Stoick before he reaches the nest, or if we're too late, free Hiccup and the Night Fury; they're our only hope of defeating the Queen."
"Oh yes! I love this plan!"
Stormfly snapped her head up. The human fledglings lurking in the entranceway had finally built up the courage to step to the ring. At their head was a young Viking the spitting image of the one at her feet.
Siblings, Stormfly thought.
"You were wise to seek help from the world's deadliest weapon," the male in the lead announced. In a conspiratorial whisper he added "that's me."
Astrid stared at him, baffled.
"How are we going to catch up with Stoick though?" asked the largest of the trio. "He took all of our ships."
Astrid looked from the newcomers, to the reinforced doors lining the walls, then finally to Stormfly. Their eyes met.
"My wings are yours, my friend." She shuffled her wings.
Astrid stepped closer and crouched beside her. "That's enough Ruff, thanks." She tore a patch from the woolen garment, then ripped the fledgling's undergarment into strips and used them to bind the pad to her leg.
Astrid glanced up at her as she worked. In a whisper, she asked "If I let the dragons out of their cages, can you convince them to help us?"
Stormfly hesitated. She knew little beyond the species of those she was imprisoned with - the stone walls between their cells were too thick to enable communication.
She drew herself up to her full height. Now was not the time for doubt. Her friend and her Alphas needed her. She slowly bobbed her head up and down. She would try.
For the sake of all she knew and believed in, she would try.
Return to me, my kin. Invaders approach.
The call of the flock carried the Queen's voice through the mists. Hiccup unconsciously echoed it, ear-fins flexing in time with his chattering. His head swung around, following the direction of her pull. A moment later, the ship beneath him lurched, turning to follow his stare.
As they passed through a narrow gap between two sea stacks, the mast struck something with a dull thunk. Hiccup tore his gaze from the way ahead long enough to glance upwards. The decapitated prow of a longship hung above them, wedged between the stone pillars. The tattered remains of her sails fluttered in the fickle breeze that coiled through the mist.
"Ah!" Gobber exclaimed. "I was wondering where that went."
"That's not very encouraging," another Viking muttered.
Ahead, visible as shadows in the mist, the bleached skeletons of more ships hung from great stone gallows.
"Stay low," Stoick murmured. "Ready your weapons."
The ship immediately fell into a tense silence. Only the creaking of the ship and the near constant call-and-response of the dragons could be heard.
The ship jerked to a stop. Hiccup staggered forwards, nearly banging his nose on the deck. He looked up in time to glimpse a crimson tail vanish into a crack in the mountain. Hiccup blinked; the flock was silent, his mind clear. He instinctively backed up until his collar hit the bars restraining him.
"We're here." Stoick announced. In the sudden silence, the crunch of his boots landing on the gravel beach was louder than an avalanche.
Oh gods, Hiccup thought. What have I done?
Astrid moved swiftly around the arena, pulling the levers to unlock each cage in turn. There were four muffled clanks of distant mechanisms, and three doors cracked ajar.
Stormfly took a deep breath. "Stay calm my kin, and step into Koyash's light." She spoke in a clear, confident tone. "These humans mean you no harm."
There was a metallic clatter behind her. She spun in time to see a green Terror dart out of a hatch set into one of the doors, her eyes sweeeping the ring, taking in the unarmed humans and open gate.
"See ya, fireless ones!" she squeaked, and leapt into the air, bolting for the exit.
"Let them go!" Astrid shouted.
Stormfly snorted. 'Fireless' was a grave insult; it figured that would be the one scrap of the old world to survive the Queen. Enjoy your freedom, sister.
Her attention snapped back to the front as the largest gate began to open. The pillar of light shining between the great doors illuminated a flash of the red-scaled Nightmare within.
The human fledglings - even her Astrid - backed up towards the exit. Stormfly heard a scrape of metal as the male twin - Tuffnut? - made to pick up the abandoned sword from earlier.
"No," Astrid told him, batting his hand away.
"I know you have been imprisoned for many seasons," Stormfly told the Nightmare. "As have I. But I beg of you, please, for the sake of all our kind, listen to what I have to say."
The Nightmare's head emerged into the light. She saw his pupils contract, seeing the sun for the first time in Trinity knew how long.
"It wasn't always like this for our kind; we weren't always subjects to a tyrannical Queen. Long ago there were the three Alpha Species: The wise Bewilderbeast, the passionate Red Deaths, and the Night Furies, who watched over the others and ensured their rule was fair and just."
Long, deadly wing-claws clacked against the arena floor as their owner prowled out of his cage.
"Alas," Stormfly continued, a hint of nerves creeping into her voice. "The Furies failed in their duty, and that failure has cost us greatly. Do not despair though, for now they have returned to right their old wrong."
She thought of how Hiccup had battled to protect her and Astrid in their flight from the Nest, and how when the Fury had ambushed them, he had told them to save themselves and faced her alone.
"They are true Alphas, and they need your help. They call to you for aid - will you answer?"
The Nightmare said nothing.
"If not for them, then think of our kin still trapped under her power, don't-"
"Wait." His voice was deep and rumbling; almost something felt rather than heard. "You're her, aren't you?"
Stormfly blinked. "Her?"
"The Singing Nadder." He glanced to the side as the other dragons - a green Zippleback and a grey-brown Gronckle - pushed their way out of their cages. "After I was captured, I was taken to an island where many more of our kin were imprisoned."
Stormfly knew the place; she had spent many days there before being transported to Berk.
"By the time I arrived, I had begun to realise what the Queen has taken from us. The dragon in the cell next to mine told me not to abandon hope, that once we had been proud and free, and that they could be again.
"When I asked how he knew this, he told me he had first heard it from the previous resident of my cell, and him from another neighbour, and so on. They said that some time ago a Nadder had passed through who sung songs of this forgotten age. She bade all who would listen to defy the Queen by remembering and sharing her words."
"Yesss," agreed the Zippleback. They spoke with an accent, extending the 's' sound into a soft hiss." We heard these talesss also."
"They told me the same as well," affirmed the Gronckle.
"So?" Asked the Nightmare. "Are you her?"
"I..." All this time, someone had listened to her songs! "Yes, I am her."
The Nightmare inclined his head. "You gave us hope where there was none to be found. Thank you. For that..." He looked to the other dragons, who bowed their heads solemnly. He lowered his muzzle, snout nearly touching the ground. "For that, we will answer your call."
Stormfly was speechless. Those long dark days in her cell before she'd met Astrid, she'd kept herself going on the belief that somewhere a single dragon might remember a few scraps of her songs when the Queen fell. She'd never expected... this.
"T-thank you," she spluttered out.
The three dragons raised their heads. "What should we call you, O singing one?"
She turned to the Zippleback. "Like you, I don't remember the name my dam gave me, but..." She looked back at the human fledglings, who were watching with wide eyes and open mouths - even Astrid, who had seen her and Hiccup talk before. She beckoned her human with a tilt of the head. "... this one, Astrid, she calls me Stormfly."
The dragons stiffened as she approached. Stormfly felt her tail-spines raise of their own accord. She shifted slightly, ready to jump to Astrid's defence.
Astrid paused just out of their reach. "It's okay," she told them. "I won't hurt you."
The Nightmare eyed Astrid for a moment. "You told us the Night Furies had returned. Why are these humans so important?"
"The last Night Fury used her power to transform the child of their chief - the humans' alpha - into one of her kind. The humans captured both of them and, at this moment, are sailing with them towards the nest."
The Nightmare's gaze snapped back to Astrid. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
"No!" Stormfly squawked, half-opening her wings. "We can't hurt them! Hiccup may be a Night Fury now, but they used to be his people!"
The Nightmare ceased his growl, but didn't take his eyes off Astrid. Her human's gaze darted from his bared teeth to her and back again. The other dragons remained tense, watching the exchange with baited breath.
"Think about it," Stormfly told him. "There's only four of us - six if you count the Night Furies - we can't take on the Flock by ourselves; we need their help.
"You know what it's like to be freed from Her control," she continued. "When the Queen falls, the whole nest will go through that. At that moment, would you rather Vikings be on our side, or out for revenge?"
"Very well," The Nightmare relented, turning back to her. "We will bind our fate to these humans."
Astrid exhaled suddenly. She looked up at Stormfly and rested a hand on her neck. "You just saved my life again, didn't you?" She moved her hand, gently caressing her scales. "Thank you."
Stormfly hummed, then lowered her head and nudged her human into the center of the group. Astrid looked back at her.
"Talk to them," Stormfly chirped, gesturing from her to the dragons. "They want to help."
Astrid glanced back and forth a few times before getting her meaning. "Okay..." She took a deep breath. Four pairs of reptilian eyes gazed back at her intently.
"We need your help." She glanced back at her. "But Stormfly's probably already told you that."
"We need to stop Chief Stoick from reaching the nest, or if we're too late, get Hiccup and the Night Fury off the boats. Stormfly and I can do most of it ourselves, but if we have to fight the Flock, we could use your help." She paused, and beckoned over the human fledglings. "However, you'll need to let one of us ride you."
The three dragons jerked in surprise, but to Stormfly's amazement, didn't reject her plan outright.
"It's for your own protection," Astrid explained. "If you fly anywhere near the fleet by yourselves they'll shoot you down without hesitation, but if you've got a Viking on your back, they should hold their fire long enough for us to explain ourselves."
The Gronckle spoke up. "We'll help you however we can, Stormfly." She glanced at her companions. "But we can't do what your human friend is asking. As soon as we get close to the nest, the Queen will take over us again."
The Nightmare growled in affirmation. "I've lost too many years to her already."
"Agreed," hissed the Zippleback. "We cannot do this thing."
"I understand your reluctance," Stormfly said, looking at each of them in turn. "But what if there was a way to protect yourself from her influence?"
The three dragons stared back at her intently.
"I'm an Aurfýr " Stormfly announced. Seeing their confusion, she explained. "Yesterday, Astrid and I ventured too close too the nest, and the Queen pulled me back in." She shuddered, remembering the feeling of looking out through her eyes, unable to act as she carried her friend to her death.
Absent-mindedly Astrid reached up and rested a hand on her neck. She hummed in thanks, and continued. "When we arrived at the nest, the Flock nearly killed Astrid; at the last moment I felt something stir within me."
It had been so much more than those words conveyed; in her last moment before being torn apart, Astrid had looked to her. That gaze had sparked something deep within her, drawing it out, feeding it until the light blazed through her entire body. In the next instant, she was free, and there was no question what to do; she needed to protect her Astrid. And so she had.
Stormfly blinked, snapping back to the present. "They rarely feature in the songs, but it wasn't just the Alphas who inherited the Trinity's power. Some of their light passed into the blood of the common dragons, where, in one in every thousand thousand hatchlings, it would manifest. Some mockingly called these dragons 'betas' - as their power was a mere spark compared to the blazing light of a true Alpha - but, amongst their own, they were the Aurfýr "
"Using the old power, I was able to free myself from the Queen, and escape the Flock with Astrid. If you fly with us, I can shield you from her control."
The three dragons looked at each other.
"I say we do it," The Nightmare growled. "We are already putting our faith in her. I trust that she'll protect us when the time comes."
The other two grunted in agreement.
Stormfly nudged Astrid and they stepped back. The three dragons turned to the human fledglings.
"There are four of them and only three of us," The Gronckle pointed out. "Either we leave one behind, or one of us will have to carry two."
Zippleback stepped forward, peering at the two long-haired fledglings. "Greetings," they hissed. "You two look alike." They inhaled audibly. "And smell similar too."
"Yes," Stormfly told them. "They're siblings."
"Siblings..." "Hmmm..."
The two heads looked at each other.
Astrid stepped around behind the Twins and grasped their wrists. "Stay calm," she whispered, "And hold your hand out, palm forwards." She slowly raised their arms to shoulder-level.
The Zippleback started, raising its heads and looking down on the humans warily. The twins tried to tug their hands away, but Astrid held them firm. "It's okay," she said, "They won't hurt you."
Stormfly wasn't sure if she was talking to the Vikings or the dragon.
The three held their position. A second passed. Slowly, the Zippleback lowered its heads, touching their muzzles to the twins' outstretched palms. The human siblings looked from the dragon to each other and back again, nervous laughter bubbling up within them. Unnoticed, Astrid let go of their wrists and slipped away.
"I want the Nightmare!" The littlest fledgling announced, stepping forwards and reaching for his muzzle.
Astrid's eyes widened. "Orvar, wait!"
Stormfly tensed. This one was her human's nestmate.
The Nightmare reared up to his full height and glared at the human. "Who are you to decide whom I shall carry, little one? You are not my master!" He finished in a roar, his hide exploding into flames.
Astrid lunged towards her brother. Stormfly crouched, ready to snatch both of them to safety.
As quickly as the flames appeared, they died. Orvar stood stock-still, unharmed, his hand still outstretched towards the Nightmare.
The crimson dragon snorted. "You have spirit, hatchling. You'll do." He bent his neck and tenderly touched the tip of his muzzle to the small human's palm.
Stormfly let out a long breath through her nostrils, standing back up to her full height as she did so. She shuffled her wings - dispelling nervous energy - and eyed the Gronckle.
"Looks like it's you and me, human," the rock-like dragon said, ambling towards the largest fledgling.
"Uhh... hi," he said. "I- Wait! Where are you going?!" His eyes darted between the approaching dragon and Astrid as she backed away towards the arena entrance.
"You know what to do." Her human nodded to the Gronckle.
"You lot are going to need something to help you hold on."
Astrid took a deep breath, and tugged on the ropes one more time. "Let's do this, girl."
Stormfly turned her head to the side and looked at her human, perched on her back. Despite the night in the cells and the fight that morning, the arrangement of fabric and ropes that Astrid sat on still held firm.
She chirped an agreement and stood to her full height, turning to face the dragons arrayed in a line behind them.
The early hours of the morning had slipped away as they figured out how to to get the fledglings onto the backs of the dragons, and how to keep them there in flight. There had been many minutes of clambering, limbs in uncomfortable places, and mimed conversations, but, at last, they were ready.
Stormfly glanced upwards through the bars enclosing the arena. Even after the earlier drama had been resolved and it became clear nobody was going to be killed, the crowds had hardly thinned. They remained, watching with quiet awe - and, Stormly thought, a desperate hope.
Below the crowds four human fledglings sat astride their chosen dragons, held in position by simple loops of rope wrapped around their mount's body.
"Remember," Stormfly told the dragons, "We're doing this to help the humans. Even if they fire at you, do not attack them! Listen to the ones on your backs, and follow mine and Astrid's lead!"
On her back, Astrid was giving a similar speech to her kin. "...they're not horses; the dragons will fly where they want to. If you want them to do something, speak! They can understand Norse as well as you or I!"
"There's one more thing..." the Nightmare said.
"Yes," Stormfly briefly bowed her head to him. "I hadn't forgotten." She moved to stand directly in front of him. "I don't know how long this will last, but it should stop her from pulling you in immediately."
She took in a deep breath, and glanced upwards, searching for appropriate words.
"Trinity, grant us your blessing," she intoned.
She bowed her head and touched the Nightmare's muzzle. "May Ülgen's foresight guide your wings." As she spoke, she closed her eyes, focusing on the spark of power within her, letting it grow until it filled her. Then, she took hold of as much energy as she dared and pushed it into him, focusing on forming a shimmering sphere around his mind.
Her eyes shot open as the power rushed out of her. She blinked. Did it work?
The Nightmare bowed his head slightly. "Thank you," he breathed.
She moved on to the next dragon in the line; the Zippleback. They touched both their heads to her muzzle. "May your fires burn with Koyash's fury," she spoke as she repeated the process.
Finally, the Gronckle; she touched her muzzle to her head and closed her eyes. "And should you fall, may Yilbegӓn's Path stand open for you."
She stepped back and looked each dragon in the eye. "We fly."
"We fly," they agreed.
She looked back at her human.
"Let's fly!" Astrid shouted.
Stormfly turned and crouched in one motion. Spread your wings. Hold a moment. Then leap!
She shot through the entranceway on the wing. As she burst out the other side, she tilted her head back and screeched a fierce battle cry. The other dragons echoed her cry as they followed. A heartbeat later, the humans on the backs joined in. Finally, a few shouts of encouragement drifted up from the Berkians far below.
This is it, Stormfly thought, as they turned towards the nest. Whatever happens, this is the beginning of the end for the Age of Alphas.
Pronunciation Guide:
Aurfýr - Rhymes with 'fear', not 'fire'
Author's Notes:
Friendly greetings!
For once, I don't feel the need to open these notes by apologizing for the gap between updates. (But I'm still going to talk about it anyway!) Sure, I could probably have gotten this out a week or so earlier if I'd applied myself more, but I'm not ashamed of a month-and-a-half turnaround between chapters. As we're entering the holiday season, I don't know if I'll be able to get the next chapter out this year, but my current plan is to have all of Shadow of the Night finished before it's third anniversary (april 7th).
I should point out that the idea to call this chapter 'Armistice' has been in my planning document since 2015, it's entirely a coincidence that it happened to come out in November!
It's been a while since I've done this, but I want to comment on a review I received from the lovely Anhedral. In their review, they praised the amount of agency Stormfly has as a character in this tale. If you recall, I wrote the first five chapters of this story with only a vague idea of what the endgame would be, I initially introduced Stormfly to teach Hiccup to fly and to deliver exposition about the world I'd created. Anhedral's review made me realise how, over the course of this story's development, Stormfly has arguably become the main hero of the piece, and that the end of this chapter was a conclusion to an arc she'd been on since before this story started. I'd always planned to tell part of this chapter from her POV - more out of necessity than anything else - but now I had a reason to relate the scene from her perspective, and I hope you'll all agree the chapter turned out better for it.
After a couple of dragon-centric fanfic recommendations recently, I have something different for you, in A Thing Of Vikings by Athingofvikings - so punny they named it twice! Whereas many HTTYD fanfic writers, like myself, will drop the occasional word of nordic language or bit of Viking history into their work for the sake of verisimilitude, A Thing Of Vikings takes a different approach and takes the first movie, and all the anachronisms therein, as canon and then drops it into an authentic portrayal of the historical 1040s.
As a mere interested amateur, I can't comment on the historical veracity, but if the chaos of a Viking tribe suddenly riding dragons in the medieval period isn't enough of a draw, it is also one of the best written fanfics I've read this year.
Also, for those of you who follow my recommendations, I've created a community under the unimaginative name "Superbun Recommends" where I've collected all of the stories I've recommended across all my works. (Currently it's categorized as a "general" community, in case I ever branch out into other fandoms)
Finally, as always, thank you for reading, and please leave your thoughts in a review!
~Superbun
QuiteARandomFan: Don't worry about being late, I value your opinions, and I always eagerly await your review. I don't consider a chapter of SotN "finished" until I've read your thoughts :P
Yes, I have read Fly To Live. I recall the idea of Hiccup running away through the author's own world was interesting, although it was a while ago that I caught up. I should probably go back and re-read it...