Shadow of the Night

by Superbun

'I'm sorry,' The last Night Fury thought, looking down at the boy beneath her. 'I don't even know your name, and I'm going to tear you away from your tribe and place the last hopes of an entire race on your wings.' - What if Hiccup was transformed into a Night Fury and then left to fend for himself? - Dragon!Hiccup and Female!Toothless - Sequel out now!

17. Chapter 15: Regicide

Chapter 15: Regicide
Part 1: War

Stoick stood in the shadow of Helheim's gate. Ahead of him lay fifty yards of bare ash and gravel, then the walls of the nest thrust upwards into an imposing bulwark of grey-black stone. The sea breeze kept the air breathable, but a faint sulphurous odour hung over the island.

Behind him was the largest host of warriors the Hooligan tribe had ever assembled.

He turned to Gobber, standing beside him. "Go find Spitelout and Phlegma. I want to go over the plan one more time." The smith nodded and hobbled off to the fetch the other two - who would be his lieutenants in the battle.

Stoick's gaze drifted back towards the mountain as he waited. He had battled the dragons a hundred times before, but he felt his heart fluttering in his chest, and a cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck. So far, everything had gone to plan - they'd deployed off the boats without incident - but that just made his anxiety worse.

They hadn't seen a single dragon since they'd landed.

Makes sense, the tactician in him whispered. They have a defensible position; no reason to give it up without a fight.

He eyed the crags lining the mountain side, feeling exposed on the barren shore. Were there reptilian eyes, hidden in the shadows, watching their every move?

That was the trouble; his people may have literally written the book on fighting dragons, but Bork's treatises all started from the premise of defending an established position from a dragon attack. Nobody knew how to fight them on their own ground.

"Ahem," Gobber coughed. "Any time today, chief."

Stoick looked up; they were waiting for him. "Right." He took a sword from Plegma and drew a line in the dirt, then a wide rectangle behind it.

"When we crack this mountain open, all Hel is going to break loose."

"In my undies. Good thing I brought extras."

Stoick sighed. "Thank you, Gobber.

"If we're going to win this, we need to control where the battle is fought." He added a line of circles behind the rectangle. "So we'll use the catapults to make a breach." He drew an 'x' on the other side of the line. "The dragons will swarm out of the hole, straight into our archers' fire."

About a third of Stoick's forces were equipped with bows. Few of them were properly trained, but if there were as many dragons in the nest as he feared, accuracy wouldn't be a problem.

Gobber nodded. "Aye, as soon as we've made the breach, the catapults will switch to scatter-shot and support them."

"Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us," Spitelout growled.

"Don't worry," Phlegma shot back. "There'll be enough left to gut you."

"She's right," Stoick said. "The archers will thin their numbers, but most of the fighting will still be on the ground." He drew three more rectangles, between the 'x' and the initial line.

"Spitelout, you'll take the right." He drew an arrow from the right-hand block, curling around towards the 'x'. "Plegma, you're on the left." He did the same for her. "And I'll hold the centre." he drew a final arrow straight forwards.

"Push them hard," he said, "We need to trap them in the breach as long as possible, but be careful you don't end up in the archers' line of fire. Understood?"

The three of them nodded.

"What about this 'Queen' the lassie warned us of?"

Spitelout guffawed.

Stoick silenced him with a glare. "If she shows up...we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Any more questions?

"Right. Good luck, and may we meet again in Valhalla."

"Aye."

"Yes, chief!"

"Aye, Stoick." Gobber lingered a moment. "I'll save a seat for you, old friend."

"Me too, old friend." Stoick replied, not meeting the smith's eyes.

The chief clambered atop a nearby boulder and watched as Gobber made his way back through the lines, past the wooden palisade protecting the archers, to his position with the catapult crews.

"Ready!" His voice echoed in the sudden hush.

Stoick turned to face the mountain. He raised an open hand.

"No matter how this ends, this ends today!"

He clenched his fist.

A series of thunks echoed behind him as the counterweights were released. Then a creak as the catapults ponderously began their arcs. Finally, they accelerated with a whoosh. A half-dozen boulders flew through the air, sailing over the heads of the army and striking the nest with the force of Mjolnir.

The mountainside shattered.

Stoick ducked behind his shield as a cloud of dust rushed outwards, engulfing him and the first ranks. Shards of rock ricocheted off the wood, one pinged off his helmet.

As the wave of debris passed, he peeked over his shield. A section of the nest larger than the mead hall doors had collapsed, creating an opening into a yawning black cavern. Stoick tensed, waiting for the dragons to come rushing out.

Nothing moved, save for the swirling dust and a trickle of pebbles from the edge of the breach. Half-deafened by the rockfall, the beach seemed eerily silent.

Keeping his shield up, Stoick dropped down from the boulder and approached the gap. Attenuated by clouds and dust, the weak sunlight illuminated a haphazard mound of rubble in the mouth of the breach, but left the interior shrouded in darkness.

Switching his spear to his other hand, he drew his warhammer and held it to the side, then rotated it forwards. Behind him a catapult fired and a moment later, a blazing ball of oil-soaked rope roared overhead and into the breach. The light from the burning projectile shone on a cacophony of dragons in every size and colour, packed so densely he couldn't see the walls of the cavern.

Stoick's blood went cold. The light vanished from sight. A steady murmuring built within the nest.

He raised his spear high and roared.

The Hooligans of Berk screamed their battle cries and charged.

The Flock took wing.

Stoick braced his shield as a Nightmare launched itself towards him. The dragon flew straight over his head. He blinked, missing a strike on a Zippleback that rushed past, buffeting him with its wings. Recovering, he thrust at a Gronckle as it buzzed him. He caught the beast on the leg, but it ignored him, flying headlong out of the nest.

Gobber shouted over the din, and the archers loosed a belated volley. Arrows whistled through the air as Stoick roared another battle cry, rushing forwards to meet the oncoming horde.

He jabbed his spear towards the exposed underbelly of a Nightmare. The creature jerked upwards, avoiding the point by mere inches. He spun, thrusting at the thigh of a passing Nadder. Blood sprayed him, but the creature continued on, charging through the breach. He swiped the spear in a wide arc - letting his hand slide down the haft for greater reach. A dull green Gronckle slipped sideways in mid-air, avoiding the attack. He brought the weapon back to his side to meet his next opponent-

And found himself standing in the mouth of an empty cave.

Heart pounding, Stoick turned to survey the beach behind him. A dozen dragons lay dead on the ground, arrows protruding from their chests. The rest had soared upwards, quickly escaping bowshot. Now, they were steadily winging their way away from the nest, joined by lines of dragons emerging from other cracks in the mountain.

"Is that it?!" Somebody shouted.

Stoick tightened his grip on his spear. Something was wrong.

"We've done it!" Another voice announced.

A cheer spread through the men. A knot of fleeing dragons turned sharply and dove back towards them. Terror clutched at Stoick's heart.

"No!" he yelled. "It's not over!" The dragons were too close. They couldn't reorganise in time. He shouted the orders anyway. "Form your ranks! Hold Together!"

Stoick the Vast could do nothing but watch as the dragons hit his formation from the side. They swept along the beach, following the palisade. Fire blossomed in their wake, followed by the agonised screams of burning men.

Around him, Warriors rushed to help their friends in the rear.

"No!" Stoick bellowed. "Keep your formation!"

It was too late; the already disorganised lines were thrown into chaos as men rushed forwards to help, while those near the fighting recoiled from the flames.

The reverberating sound of wings met Stoick's ears.

He spun. Lights were visible in the darkness of the breach. It took him a moment to realise what they were; a dozen Nightmares, their scales lit with blazing fire.

Stoick sprinted for where the first rank had stood. "The nest!" He roared. "Form a wall!"

He grabbed the first person he saw and physically spun them to face the breach. He jerked their shield into position, overlapping with his own. "Wall!"

The warrior's training finally kicked in. "Incoming!" she shouted. "Shield wall!"

More men rushed to their sides, joining on to the ends of the line. A wall of spears and shields slowly grew along the beach; too slow. Stoick watched helplessly as a man ran for the safety of their formation, only for a Nadder to drop onto his back - the creature's claws punching almost completely through his torso.

A Nightmare swooped down towards them, mouth agape. "Brace!" Stoick shouted, ducking behind his shield. Behind him, a man raised his own shield to protect their heads.

A wave of liquid fire broke against the wall. He hissed through gritted teeth as a droplet flew through a gap between the shields and splashed on his shoulder. The ground shook as the Nightmare landed. The beast roared, then lowered its head and charged. Stoick, and the men around him, thrust their spears at it, bloodying its muzzle and forcing it back.

Stoick stood up to his full height - thankful that he towered over most men. Beyond the edges of his formation, all semblance of order had vanished. To the right of the line, dragons flew back and forth, chasing fleeing men.

He felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. His plan had relied on the force of their assault to break the dragons; they didn't have the men for a long, bloody battle.

Stoick pushed the thoughts away; he had lead his people into this, it was his duty to get them out. To their left lay thirty yards of open ground, then another group of warriors trying to hold their own line. He turned to the man behind him - he was surprised to recognize him as Balder Hofferson. "Take my place."

Balder nodded.

"On three. One... two... now!"

Stoick turned his body sideways and raised his shield above his head as Balder slipped past him, slotting seamlessly into the wall.

As soon as he broke free from the rear of the line, Stoick sprinted towards the second group of warriors. Above, a Gronckle dropped out of the air, using its bulk as a battering ram to shatter their line.

Stoick roared, pounding across the ash and gravel even faster. He charged headlong into the Gronckle, using his momentum to drive his spear deep into its flank. He let go of the haft and spun, whipping out his hammer in time to shatter the jawbone of a Nadder as it lunged for him. Before it could recover, another warrior stepped forwards and drove a sword through its neck. "Thanks chief," she gasped.

A groan sounded at his feet. Stoick looked down to see a man lying in the grey dirt, knocked prone by the Gronckle's impact. He held up a hand and Stoick clasped it, hauling him to his feet. "Are you hurt, man?"

The warrior clutched at his side for a moment, then straightened up. "I'll live," he croaked, turning to retrieve his weapons.

Stoick gestured back the way he came. "Get to the line," he told the survivors. "We need to hold the front."

He turned and yanked his spear out of the Gronckle. Blood spurted out of the wound, but the beast didn't rise. He looked over his shoulder; the warriors lingered, staring at the chaos surrounding them with glazed expressions. Stoick felt for them; they'd all seen too many friends taken by claw and fire in recent days, but they couldn't stop. Not here. Not now.

"Move!" He bellowed. "Go! I'll follow you!"

The warriors snapped to attention and ran for the relative safety of the line. Stoick jogged behind them, one eye on the sky.

A shadow passed overhead. Stoick ducked, but the dragon hadn't been targeting him. The zippleback swooped in front of the line exhaling a cloud of gas. It turned sharply and backwinged, dropping to the ground, and blowing the cloud through the wall.

Stoick ducked behind his shield at the last moment, but he still felt the percussive blast and heard the shouts of alarm become cries of agony.

"Retreat!" Someone screamed. "To the ships!"

Images of them trying to board the boats and push off in the midst of a storm of dragonfire flashed through Stoick's mind.

"No!" He bellowed, stepping into the sudden gap. "NO! Hold your ground!"

As if in answer to his shout, a chorus of roars rang out behind him.

Horror gripping him, Stoick turned. A fresh wave of dragons dove out of the clouds and fell on the unprotected fleet, raking the boats with their fires. Flames blossomed on the horizon.

Gods help us, he thought. He'd been outplayed.

Astrid had tried to warn him. She'd seen the Queen, she'd seen ...this. He'd ignored her for... What? Revenge?

Now Berk stood, surrounded by enemies on all sides, watching their only hope of escape go up in flames.

Gods help us all, I've been a fool.

---

The mood had soured when Helheim's gate first appeared on the horizon. After leaving Berk, the Twins, Fishlegs, and Orvar had whooped with the sheer exhilaration of flight. Despite the seriousness of their mission, Astrid didn't begrudge their enjoyment - how could she, when she felt the same urge; to forget everything, and lose herself in the rush of the wind and the surge of Stormfly's muscles beneath her?

Now though, as they plunged into the fog, the dragons drew into a tight formation behind Stormfly, flying steadily and silently.

Astrid shuddered, remembering her last time entering these mists; her Nadder stiff and unresponsive beneath her. She glanced at the other dragons; as far as she could tell, they were still themselves. Stormfly had broken free of the Queen's control once, could she do it again? And what of the other dragons?

Had she made a terrible mistake bringing them here?

Stormfly looked back at her and crooned softly.

"Thanks," Astrid murmured, leaning forwards to rest a hand on her neck.

Then they heard the screams.

It was the sound that had haunted Astrid's dreams since the raid; the cries of men and women in agony;

The sound of people dying.

Stormfly and the others picked up speed without prompting. A chill that had nothing to do with the sea wind seeped into Astrid. She knew the chances had dwindled as Helheim's gate approached, but she'd held out hope that they would be able to stop Stoick before he reached the nest.

But they were too late. They would have to fight. Six dragons against the multitudes of the Flock.

She listened to the screams in grim silence as they crossed the final distance to the nest.

Astrid's first impression was of fire. For a single, terrifying moment, she thought the mountain had erupted. She couldn't stop the horrified gasp that escaped her. The fleet was ablaze, the air thick with smoke. Dragons danced between the towering flames, spitting fire at any who dared approach the water.

Stormfly backwinged and rose quickly, circling above the smoke.

More dragons swarmed around the base of the nest. Pinned between the two groups, in a chaotic mass, were Berk's warriors.

"Astrid!" her brother shouted. "What do we do?!"

She opened her mouth several times, but no words came out. "I..." What did they do? She doubted even the valour of Týr himself would carry the day below. What could she - not even a Viking any more - hope to do?

"Sis!"

She mentally slapped herself. She was a Hofferson; they did not freeze in battle. She scanned the fires below. There! A glimpse of black between the flames.

She looked back to the trapped warriors, a Nightmare swooped low over their heads, raining liquid fire on the men below.

"'Nuts, 'Legs, Orvar, cover them; stop the Flock attacking from above. I'll free the Night Furies."

The riders nodded.

She crouched low as her Nadder dove towards the inferno.

---

Flames encircled Hiccup. They prowled around him like a pack of wolves, roaring and growling in low, crackling tones. The sail of his longship had caught in the Flock's first pass, but, the rest of the vessel had escaped the lick of flame. However, the railings in front of him were already smouldering; the relentless blaze ever hungry.

He could feel the heat even through his scales; if he was still human it would have been unbearably hot. Smoke stung in his nostrils. He tried not to think about whether he would suffocate on it before the ship sank and dragged him down with it.

He heard the rushing of wings over the roaring flames. A Nadder burst through the black wall of smoke, trailing a column of daylight behind her. She backwinged hard - whirlwinds of soot and ember spiralling off her wings.

"Alpha!" Stormfly squawked, dropping onto the deck.

Astrid leapt off the Nadder's back. "Hiccup!" she gasped, then immediately threw her arm across her mouth, coughing. "Is that you?" She wheezed, rushing over to him.

Hiccup nodded rapidly, resisting the urge to take a sudden gasp of air as she pulled off his muzzle.

"We need to get you out of here!" She cast around the burning deck, looking for a way to free him.

Hiccup looked up at Stormfly. "What are you doing?!"

"Fighting for the future of both our peoples," she replied. "Astrid freed the other dragons from your arena, but we are only four; we need an Alpha.

"We need a Night Fury."

But I'm not a Night Fury! Hiccup wanted to scream back. I'm a failure of a Viking, trapped in the wrong body! All I've done my entire life is get people hurt!

Astrid hissed through her teeth as she snatched up an abandoned sword. Hiccup winced, thinking of how hot the metal must be. She jammed it into the crack between the two halves of his yoke and heaved.

Hiccup thought of his childhood. Those long, miserable years; attempt after attempt, and public failure after public failure. He hadn't built those inventions just to win fame and glory - sure, those would have been nice - but deep down, he shared the desire of every child to live up to their father. This whole mess had started because he'd tried to help the village the only way he could.

The lock gave way. The wooden collar fell at Hiccup's feet. He stepped out of the cart and spread his wings, slowly flapping to ease the stiffness.

"Hiccup..." Stormfly began.

He felt the omnipresent spark of Auric power within him. Now the gods - be they his father's Ӕsir and Vanir or Stormfly's Trinity - had granted him the ability to help. Who would he be if he gave up now?

He looked back at Stormfly. "Well, you have two Night Furies." He plunged himself into that well of power. Energy flooded through him.

Astrid gasped. Blue-green light reflected in her face.

He gestured from Astrid to Stormfly. "Go!" He told the Nadder. "Get her out of here! I'll free Muninn!"

"Yes, Alpha!"

Hiccup looked across the blazing fleet. Between the curtains of smoke he could just make out the other longship, run aground on the far side of the beach. Fixing his eyes on his destination, he crouched and launched himself into the air, spreading his wings wide.

That was a mistake.

Driven by the fires, the air beneath his left wing surged upwards, nearly flipping him out of control. He pulled in his wings and dove for the first patch of free deck he saw.

He landed heavily, the ship rocking beneath him. Water splashed into the air, sizzling as it came down on the scorched deck. Hiccup cast his gaze around. The air above the fires was chaotic and treacherous, and he couldn't risk flying above the smoke until he'd freed Muninn. He spotted a mostly unburnt ship just along the shore. If he angled things just right...

Hiccup jumped. Rather than launching himself upwards, he threw himself forwards, opening his wings just enough to extend his leap. He touched down and scanned the fleet around him for his next target. He located a suitable boat, and jumped again. The air clawed at his wings and fins, trying everything it could to throw him off, but he held his course.

Three bounds later, Hiccup came to an abrupt halt. His destination was less than fifty yards away, but every vessel between him and the longship was half-sunk, on fire, or both. He eyed the tall mast of a nearby ship, an idea occurring to him. He crouched down and leapt towards it.

Wait for it... Now!

He pushed his tail upwards, swinging his nose towards the sky. The mast smashed into his underside, forcing the air from his lungs. He grabbed hold with all four limbs, driving his claws into the wood. He scrambled upwards, spreading his wings to balance with all four paws on the narrow tip of the mast.

From his vantage point, Hiccup could see Muninn's cart, still secured in place on the longship's deck. She was slumped on the planks, unmoving. For a terrible moment, he thought he was too late. No, he realised, her eyes were open, and her ear-fins twitched in response to the popping of flames and the crashes of falling timbers.

Hiccup tensed and pushed off from the mast. Hot updrafts buffeted against him. He landed ungracefully, nearly staggering into the far railing. "Muninn!" He gasped.

The Night Fury didn't react.

He rushed over to her. He hooked a claw beneath the leather band around her muzzle and tore it off.

"Muninn! Are you okay?!"

Her lips twitched. He had to strain to make out her words.

"No! Please! I'll do anything for you, just don't make me kill them!"

Her pupils were narrow slits. Whatever she was seeing, Hiccup thought, it wasn't what was in front of her.

"Please, not again! Just let them go, they're no threat to you!"

"Muninn! It's me, Hiccup!"

For the first time, she looked up at him. Her pupils widened with momentary recognition. "Hic... Hiccup?" She jerked away from him. Her pupils snapped back to feral slits. "No! Get away! Before She makes me kill you!"

Hiccup leaned in close, the tip of his muzzle inches away from hers. "That's over, Muninn. I'm Hiccup, you transformed me, remember?" She blinked, seeming to recognise him again. "Then, I freed you. You're not her puppet any more."

"No," she whispered. "No more death."

"Muninn?"

She pushed herself up onto her paws. "I'm fine." She was anything but, Hiccup thought, but he didn't press it. "How did you...?"

"Astrid and Stormfly freed me." He looked to where the beach lay, obscured by a wall of smoke. "They're out there somewhere, fighting. We have to help them."

Munin shrank back, her collar knocking against the bars of her cart. "Hiccup! The whole Flock's out there! We can't fight them!" Her eyes were wide, almost frantic. "I won't go back to her! I can't!"

"Muninn." He looked her in the eye. "I'm terrified. I have no idea how to fight that many dragons, let alone the Queen. Of course I'd rather be flying the Hel away from here. But I'm not going to. Why?

"Because I have to try.

"Stormfly watched her mother - as far as she knew, the only survivor of the Queen's conquest - starve before her eyes. She spent years under the Queen's control, only to regain her mind and be captured by my people in the same moment. Most of the dragons around her were going to be slaughtered, but still she sang her songs to everyone who would listen. Why?

"Because she had to try.

"I spent most of my life as a laughing stock; a weakling in a village where killing dragons is everything. When I built the weapon that shot you down, did I think it was going to bring down the elusive Night Fury? Of course not. Why did I build it?

"Because I had to try.

"And you, when you had me beneath your claws, did you know that I would learn to fly? To use the Aür? That I would free you? Did you even know if I would survive the gods-damned night?!"

"N-no." Muninn whimpered.

Hiccup took a deep breath. His heart pounded like he'd just flown a mile with the flock snapping at his tail. He tried to moderate his tone; insistent, but not unkind. "Why did you do it?"

"I..."

"Why, Muninn?"

"I came into my power a few seasons after t-th... She..." She shuddered. "I knew I'd only get one chance. So many times, I nearly used it, but I doubted myself, told myself that a better opportunity would come along. Then, gradually, the opportunities came further and further apart. You were the first chance in... Trinity, I can't remember how long."

"So..." he prompted.

"I didn't know how much longer I could last! I had to do something!"

"Thank you." Hiccup gazed across the longship's prow. "My people, my father, are out there, fighting for their lives. I have to try and help them. Stormfly brought the other dragons from Berk with her; she believes in what the Night Furies stood for, she believes in us, she believes..." He recalled a hazy memory of Stormfly standing defiantly between him and a Nightmare twice her size. "... An Alpha protects them all.

"I promised I'd free her people. I have to try." He looked back at Muninn. "Will you join me?"

"An Alpha protects them all," she repeated. "I like the sound of that." She stood as tall as her cart allowed. "We will try."

Hiccup spun to face her, his eyes darting over the frame of her cart. "I'll have you out of there in a moment..."

"No need." She blinked, and when her eyes opened, they burned with Auric light. The spines along her back shone the same shade as her irises; a brilliant, emerald green.

Muninn closed her eyes. Her light flared, and a wave of energy radiated out from her, into her collar. Hiccup watched, awestruck as the wood crumbled to dust in its wake.

She stepped out of her cart, rolling her shoulders to shake off the remains of her yoke.

I have got to learn how to do that. Hiccup thought.

---

"Here they come again!" Stoick bellowed. "Hold the line!"

A gronckle fell from the sky. Stoick raised his shield to meet it. The dragon struck with the force of a boulder. Wood splintered beneath the impact. He would have been knocked flat, if not for the weight of men behind him.

The chief roared like a wounded bear and shoved back the dragon, thrusting blindly with his spear. He felt the point sink into flesh and then the haft was ripped from his hand. The Gronckle laboured into the air, revealing the two-headed dragon behind it.

"Zippleback! Scatter!"

Stoick yanked out his hammer and charged, his hoarse cry echoing off the mountainside. The front line joined him, rushing the flock, while the rear retreated, effectively splitting the line.

As soon as they got within ten paces the Zippleback took wing. The ground shook as something huge landed behind him. Stoick skidded to stop and spun around. The biggest Nightmare he'd ever seen - a massive purple titan-wing - had come down in the middle of the scattered formation. It roared, shaking the pebbles on the beach, then reared up. Stoick saw it sides tense as it prepared to douse his men in liquid fire.

"NO!" He yelled.

His hammer spun through the air, striking the Nightmare's muzzle, forcing its head to the side.

The Nightmare turned faster than he thought possible. It's tail whistled through the air, striking him in the side. The blow lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling in the ash several feet down the beach.

Dazed, Stoick fumbled for his knife. Distantly, he realised he was going to die. He gritted his teeth, focusing his whole being on forcing his unresponsive limbs to move. He would go out with weapon in hand, protecting his people. He owed them that much, at least.

Screeching furiously, a blue blur struck the Nightmare in the side. The ground shook as the beast fell. Pebbles flew left and right as it thrashed furiously. Stoick felt a flash of heat as white-hot fire erupted. The Nightmare's bellows became screeches as flames tore through its hide.

And then, silence. The Nightmare's head dropped to the ground.

Stoick staggered to his feet. A blue and yellow Nadder was perched atop the Nightmare's body, talons embedded deep in its flesh. He looked up and met the eyes of the fierce blonde Viking on the Nadder's back.

"Chief!" She shouted. "Are you hurt?!"

"Astrid! What-"

"You're too exposed out here," she cut him off. "There's more cover on the west side of the island. Get the men moving! We'll cover you from above!"

Stoick blinked. She'd just spoken with more natural authority than most Viking chiefs he'd met; it didn't even register for him to be annoyed that she was giving him orders. His eyes drifted back down to the Nadder she rode. The dragon stared back at him with eyes every bit as ferocious and intelligent as the Viking on her back.

The Nadder's pupils narrowed; she squawked in alarm as Astrid shouted "duck!".

Stoick dropped. A volley of spines whistled over his head. He heard two dragons fall to earth behind him.

He straightened up, looking over his shoulder. A pair of Nadders lay in the ash, spines protruding from their chests. He looked back at Astrid.

Her Nadder was crouched slightly, her wings half-open, tail raised high, spines bristling. Astrid was pressed tight against her back, muscles tense. Together, they were the picture of restrained action.

"I'm sorry," Stoick blurted out.

Astrid blinked, straightening up. "What?"

"You were right. We couldn't do this alone. I should have listened."

"I..." She faltered, seeming to suddenly realise she was speaking to her chief.

The Nadder chirped, drawing her attention seawards. Something shot upwards from the burning fleet, dragging a line of black smoke behind it.

"What the-?"

"Watch."

High above the battlefield the thing split into two dark specks. They roared, then pulled into parallel stoops. Stoick felt a chill go down his spine as he heard that singular note echoed in harmony.

"Night Fury!" the cry went up.

He met Astrid's eyes. I hope you know what you're doing.

"Get d-"

"NO!" Stoick roared. "They're with us!"

A flash of blue caught his eye. He looked up in time to see a bolt of light fall from the heavens and strike a Nightmare mid-flight, blasting the dragon out of the air.

He turned back to the pair in front of him. The Nadder was tensed, wings outstretched, ready to leap, she looked back at her rider.

"Stoick..." Astrid began.

He nodded. "West side of the island. You'll cover us."

Astrid crouched down low to her mount. In the same motion the Nadder raised her wings. Then, with a great woosh of air they were gone.

A familiar battle cry broke the lull. A group of warriors split from the line, rushing forwards to encircle him. Bringing up the rear, Gobber hobbled towards him.

"Every bit the boar-headed, stubborn Viking Finn ever was," the smith muttered, watching Astrid soar into the air.

Stoick could only nod silently in agreement. In his youth he'd had the privilege of watching a Norwegian cavalry drill; those professional soldiers hadn't moved with half the grace and synchronicity with their mounts that Astrid displayed; her movements were so in time with her Nadder's flaps that they almost looked like a single body.

A shadow fell over them. A green Zippleback rushed overhead, smashing into a Gronckle, sending it spinning away before it could drop onto the line. He squinted. Was that the Thorston twins sat astride its necks?

"Look at us!" Tuffnut shouted. "We're on a dragon! We're on dragons! All of us!"

Behind the Zippleback came a Nightmare ridden by the younger Hofferson child, and finally a Gronckle bearing the Ingerman boy.

Stoick dragged his eyes down to the ground. There was still a battle going on. "Back to the line!" he called, setting off at a jog.

Stoick slowed his pace, dropping to the rear of their group, alongside Gobber. "We're too exposed out here." he told his friend. "There's more cover on the west side of the island. Get the men moving, the Dragons will cover us from above."

"I think I'll stay," the smith shot back. "Just in case you're thinking of doing something crazy."

"I can buy them a few minutes if I give them-" he jerked his head towards the nest "-something to hunt." He skidded to a stop, turning back the way he came.

Gobber caught him by the wrist. "Then I can double that time."

Stoick met his old friend's eyes. It would be good to fight side-by-side again, like they had back when they'd had fewer responsibilities... and more limbs. He opened his fist. They clasped hands.

Stoick scanned the men with them. If they survived this, they would be stepping into a world where all the old rules were gone. "Balder!" he called.

"Aye chief!"

Stoick met his eyes. If any man could be trusted to lead Berk into Astrid's new world where Vikings rode on the backs of dragons, it was her father. "Lead the men! Go!"

"With me!" Balder shouted, raising his spear and leading the charge back to the line.

Stoick stood, only Gobber left at his side. He turned to face the nest. "One last brawl, old friend."

"Aye, let's make it a good one!"

Stoick roared, rushing forwards and snatching up a six-foot spear from where it had fallen, sticking in the ash. He threw it like a javelin. The weapon arced high in the air, before burying itself in the side of a Gronckle.

"Oh no!" Gobber laughed, brandishing his axe-hand. "Come on!" he bellowed. "Fight me!"

---

Hiccup dove. The world sped past, an indistinct blur, while his target - an orange female Nightmare - stayed in perfect focus. Fire raged in his chest. He released his shot and opened his wings in the same instant.

The flock was all around him.

A Nadder screeched, stalling as her claws rose to intercept him. He rolled, missing her talons by inches, only to nearly fly head-first into a Gronckle. He pulled in his wings, darting under the dragon, then snapped them open again, moments before crashing into the Vikings beneath.

He dodged left - weaving around the raised heads of a Zippleback, then swerved right as a Nadder leapt up from the forest of spears. Another Gronckle tried to block him. He turned his bank into a barrel roll, passing over the dragon upside-down. He flipped back upright.

And he was free.

He focused his Auric light into his wings, and pointed his nose skywards. He sped upwards like a shot from a bow, leaving the dragons pursuing him hundreds of yards below. A heartbeat later, he finished his climb, level with the peak of the nest.

A bitter taste settled at the back of his throat. Before, when he'd fled the nest, he'd fought back against the flock almost instinctively, fearing for his life. Now, though, the dragons below were no threat to him; he was a Night Fury - even if they heard his dive, it was too late to avoid his fire.

You don't have a choice, he told himself. He knew that holding back his fire would doom both the Vikings and the dragons. But that didn't stop him imagining every dragon below as himself in the battle over Dökkhöfn.

A shout drifted up to him, dragging his attention back to the present.

"Retreat! Push to the western shore!"

Hiccup scanned the beach. The carefully organised formations had collapsed into a single, beleaguered mass, pressed on all sides by the Flock. Gouts of fire erupted over the Vikings; four dragons darting back and forth, scrambling to keep the air over their heads clear.

Two figures stood defiantly before the vanguard, the flock closing in around them.

Dad?! What in Odin's name did he think he was doing?

A maroon Nadder swung about, closing in on the pair from behind.

Hiccup knew what he had to do. He folded his wings.

Instinctively his eyes locked onto his target. The world around him faded away. He opened his jaws, igniting his fires, as his wings began to buzz, sounding that familiar shriek.

Something smashed into him from the side. A constellation of pain exploded across his torso as teeth and claws dug into his flesh. His shot went wide, striking the earth and throwing up a cloud of ash and stone. He lashed out, sinking his claws into the dragon attached to him. He shoved with all his might, roaring in agony as the dragon's teeth and claws tore their way free.

He instinctively reached for his power as he fought to arrest his fall. Energy surged through him, deadening his pain. He heard a second whistle, and the Nadder he'd originally targeted vanished in a flash of blue light.

Two more Nadders swooped towards him. He'd lost too much speed.

Hiccup dropped.

He hit the ground running, his paws throwing up small clouds of ash. Above him, the Nadders slowed, backwinging hard to avoid a collision. Hiccup snapped his wings open and leapt back into the air. A Gronckle fireball burst where he'd stood a moment previously. Shards of half-melted rock flew upwards. One of them struck his underside, just to left of his breastbone, embedding itself in the flight muscle.

Hiccup cried out. The light within him surged, dulling the pain. Not fast enough. Every stroke of his wings felt like driving a knife into his flesh. He grit his teeth against the agony and flapped with all his might, out-climbing a Zippleback that barreled towards him.

"Leave us!" Stoick shouted. Hiccup barely heard him over the pounding of his heart. "Protect the others!"

Hiccup glided above the chaos, wings trembling as he gasped for breath.

His flight muscles twitched, and something moved inside him. A jagged fragment of rock fell from his chest. It tumbled towards the beach below, where the warriors of Berk fought their way westward, step by painstaking step.

His ear-fins twitched, picking out a Nadder's screech from the dreadful symphony of screams and roars. Hiccup dove towards the sound before he'd even realised it came from Stormfly.

The Nadder flew at breakneck speed over the heads of the Vikings, a young blue Nightmare snapping at her. A faint light shimmered beneath Stormfly's scales. In the time it took Hiccup to ready his fires, she crossed the mass of warriors and was flying away from the battle.

Hiccup fired.

The Nightmare crashed onto the beach, somersaulting several times before coming to rest.

Hiccup pulled out of the dive, zipping over the beach alongside Stormfly. He looked back. A dozen dragons peeled off from the battle, pursuing them.

"Up!" He shouted.

He angled his tail and shot towards the clouds. Stormfly followed a heartbeat later, nearly keeping pace with him, despite his Aür-assisted wings.

Astrid loosened her grip on the Nadder's neck as they leveled out, the Queen's dragons left far below. "Thanks!" she called over the roaring wind.

Hiccup looked over at Stormfly. "You're using the Aür!" he exclaimed. "How?"

"The Alphas weren't the only ones to inherit the Trinity's power," Stormfly panted. On the far side of the beach, Muninn dove, intercepting a Nadder headed for a Nightmare ridden by Astrid's brother. "If we survive this, I'll explain everything."

"Zippleback!" Someone screamed below.

Hiccup didn't have time to feel guilty. He snapped in his wings, plummeting towards the cry.

A green cloud billowed from one of the dragon's mouths, consuming the first few ranks. Hiccup cracked open his jaws. As soon as he felt warmth blossom in his chest, he fired. A blue star streaked ahead of him.

It was too slow.

The Zippleback's other head snapped its jaws. The cloud detonated in a flash of yellow-white light, leaving behind a tangled mess of half-burnt bodies. Hiccup's shot landed a moment too late, striking the base of the Zipplebacks necks, severing its heads instantly.

"NO!" Hiccup roared. He forced his wings open and pulled a tight half-loop. As soon as he flipped right-side up he breathed in as much air as he could and spat three fireballs at dragons that swarmed into the gap.

He whipped around in a tight circle. In the fraction of a second it took him to come about, a group of Gronckles had replaced the dragons scattered by his shots. He fired again.

Sudden, intense heat pressed against his scales. Three Nightmares converged on him, scales ablaze, spraying flames before them. With nowhere else to go, Hiccup snarled in frustration and shot up, out of reach.

Orvar and the Twins swooped underneath him, their Zippleback and Nightmare snatching two Gronckles out of the air. Fishlegs buzzed behind them on a Gronckle of his own, launching lava-balls at any dragons who tried to land. The air vibrated with Muninn's diving whistle as the Vikings stepped forwards, over the bodies of their friends, reforming the wall.

Hiccup forced his wings to beat faster, he needed to get back down there before-

A dozen Gronckles stilled their wings, dropping onto the line. The wall shattered completely. Muninn cried out as a Gronckle-ball burst beneath her, glowing shards of rock perforating her wings.

At last, Hiccup reached altitude and flipped back over into another dive. He barely managed to get off his first shot before flames erupted beneath him, forcing him up, away from the battle; away from those he fought to protect. Muninn laboured up beside him, her wings dappled with spots of green light as the holes in her membranes knit closed.

The precursive clap of a second Zippleback blast echoed off the nest. A sense of despair welled up in him, but he dove towards the sound anyway.

It's hopeless, Hiccup thought as the world blurred around him. He dispatched the Zippleback in a flash of blue, but the damage was already done. The line was broken and the flock spilled into the gap, lashing out with claw and fire. More dragons swooped towards him, forcing him away.

Hiccup flipped over, targeting another Zippleback. As he fell, he watched, helpless as a Nightmare battered its way through the remains of the wall, spraying liquid fire into the breach. There's too many of them; we can't be everywhere at once.

The Zippleback exploded. Hiccup fired again in quick succession, blasting a Nadder that flew across his path - its claws stained red with Viking blood.

A wave of numbness washed over Hiccup. He let his wings carry him up, away from the battle. Below him, thinking, feeling creatures screamed and died in agony. The cries of men and dragons blurred together in his mind. He couldn't do this. He wasn't a warrior. He didn't enjoy this chaos and destruction.

All this wasted life, for what?

Burning anger bubbled up from deep within. He hated, truly hated, the Queen for what she made him do - even now, when he was free from her will, she forced him to kill innocent dragons to protect his people.

All because of one. One who dares to call themselves 'Alpha'. One who claims to protect her flock.

Like ice meeting lava and flashing to steam, his desperation collided with his fury and erupted in the form of a single word.

"Stop!"

For a moment, the battlefield stilled.

---

Part 2: Shadows

"Stop!"

The roar swept over the beach, carrying with it an invisible wave of energy. Dragons stilled as it it passed, stopping mid flight. Stormfly slowed her wingbeats, gliding between flaps.

On her back, Astrid sat up.

"What just happened?"

The Nadder trilled softly, uncertain. All around them, the flock had halted its assault, the dragons hovering in place.

The silence was almost more disturbing than the clash and clamour of battle.

Astrid gasped. "Stormfly, Look!"

She looked up. "Trinity's Fire...!"

Above them shone an aquamarine star in the shape of a Night Fury.

Realisation suddenly struck her; She couldn't feel the crushing pressure of the Queen's will against her power; in its place she felt a buoying energy, supporting her, strengthening her defences.

Stormfly felt a rush of emotion as understanding dawned on her.

The Flock woke up.

As one, they blinked and looked around, as if seeing where they were for the first time. A thousand grunts of confusion and growls of anguish broke the silence.

"Get ready!" A Viking shouted. "Stand together!"

From within the shadows of the nest, a thunderous roar rang out.

Invaders! They assault your nest! Threaten your Queen! Drive them back into the sea!

Stormfly wasn't sure how, but she felt Astrid cringe on her back; as if she could almost hear the Queen's words.

A handful of dragons dove towards the massed Vikings. Most stayed where they were, casting agitated looks at each other; they had heard, but for the first time in their lives they weren't compelled to obey.

Stormfly's kin screamed as the Berkians repelled the scattered, uncoordinated assault. Anger spread through the flock, replacing the confusion.

They need a leader, Stormfly realised. The flock was free, but without someone to follow, they would willingly go back to the only master most of them had ever known. She looked up. The light faded from Hiccup's body, and he dropped several body-lengths straight down before he caught himself.

She scanned the sky for the other Night Fury. She found her gliding over the edge of the battle.

Come on, Stormfly prayed. Claim your birthright. Lead us.

She remained mute as, with every heartbeat, more of the flock fell back to the Queen.

"Stormfly..." Astrid breathed, uneasy.

The Nadder tore her gaze from the black silhouette. She looked at the dragons around her, their eyes crying out for leadership.

She took a deep breath.

"Dragons of the north!" she bellowed. "Look to the sky!

"The Night Furies have returned!"

She flapped hard, rising above the flock.

"Slavery was not always the way of our kind! The Queen tried to hide it, but look inside yourselves, you remember! There was a time when Alphas ruled with respect, not fear! That time can live again, but only if you fight for it!

"Yilbegän's Judgement has come for the Queen! So Fight! Fight for a true Alpha! For freedom; for justice;

"For your future!"

Stormfly roared, exhaling a column of brilliant white snapped her wings to her sides and dove, smashing talons-first into the flank of a Nightmare that swept towards the Vikings below.

Above her, the flock exploded in a deafening roar.

---

A thousand roars of pain and fury echoed off the rocks beneath Hiccup. The Queen bellowed in response, more dragons swarming out of the breach. The newly freed fell on their former nest-mates. The flock disintegrated into a writhing mass of teeth and claws.

The air reverberated with the cries of injured and dying dragons.

Hiccup hung there, reeling from his shout and the horror unfolding below. The moment the word had left his jaws a tidal-wave of sensation - images, scents, sounds, pain - washed over mind shattered; the pieces scattered over the , a moment of blackness, and he was falling head-first towards the beach.

Is that how it is for the Queen? He wondered. How does she handle it?

A draconic screech tore through his thoughts. Two Nightmares collided in mid-air, snapping and clawing at each other. The Vikings scrambled out of the way as the pair hit the ground and continued to fight, flipping over and over; a deadly whirlwind of teeth and claws, flaming bodies and lashing tails.

He shook himself. The battle wasn't over yet; he had a promise to keep.

He folded his wings. The dragons heard his diving whistle and cleared a path. He focused on the wrestling Nightmares. Like one always recognised the face of their family, he knew instinctively which dragon was free. The Nightmares grew closer, rolling over and over in their struggle.

Now!

They flipped once more. His shot struck one of them square in the back. Hiccup snapped open his wings.

The remaining nightmare shoved off the body of his kin and stood. "Thank you, my Alpha!"

Hiccup flexed the muscles along his spine, whipping around in a quick circle. For a moment he thought he'd been transported back to the battle of Dökkhöfn. Serpentine shadows darkened the sky, flitting overhead faster than the eye could follow. Gouts of fire lit the clouds, and stray Gronckle shots fell to earth like burning lightning. In places, the fighting was so thick that draconic blood fell like rain.

Hiccup felt sick. What have I done?

"This isn't my fault." He growled. "This is all the Queen."

Stormfly rushed past, a radiant blue streak. "Up!" she shouted. "Drive them away from the Vikings!"

Hiccup tilted his head back and fired a shot into the underside of one of the Queen's dragons. He flapped hard, darting through the gap he'd created. He rose above the chaos, casting about for Muninn; Where was she?

Below him, the dragons tore each other apart, his village trapped beneath them. If this went on much longer, all their efforts, all this sacrifice, would be for naught. He grit his teeth.

An Alpha protects them all.

He drove his wings downwards, looping up and over into a dive.

He fell at a shallow angle, screeching over the breadth of the battle. He opened his jaws, air rushing down his throat to fuel his fire. Dragons on both sides heard his rising whistle and scattered.

But they weren't his target.

A brilliant bolt of light streaked from his maw and struck the side of the nest. The whole mountain reverberated with a thunderous blast.

Hiccup opened his wings with a jerk. Pain lanced down his shoulders as the wind tried to tug them from their sockets.

"Stop this!" He roared. "If you truly protect your flock, release them! Stop this pointless fighting!"

He'd barely cleared the nest's peak when a low rumble shook the island

You steal my flock, dare to challenge ME, and now you demand my surrender?!

An almighty crash rocked the mountain. Boulders the size of houses tumbled down the Nest's sides.

Under my guidance, we have seen the most prosperous seasons since your kind first stood on two legs!

The nest shook again. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the breach.

No! I will crush you and your people, just like the Night Furies!

For a moment, the only sound was the groaning of tortured rock.

Then, with a final heave, the wall of the nest exploded.

---

Muninn's wings froze.

She was free.

Bands of ice tightened around her chest. Her heart beat frantically and she gasped desperately for air, but none of it seemed to reach her lungs.

You belong to me now, little one...

No, no, no, no, she thought. This wasn't happening. Not now.

But She was free. She breathed in and exhaled a great jet of fire. Hot air fled the flames, pushing Muninn upwards. Below, dragons - both free and of the Flock - screamed as they were incinerated.

She pressed herself harder against the rock ledge, frantically searching for somewhere, anywhere to hide. Every surface she saw was lit by the same blood-red light. The monster drew closer, looming over her.

"No," she whimpered. "That's not real." She was a Night Fury, an Alpha. It was her born duty to protect the dragons of the North.

But she couldn't move.

Because She was free.

Muninn could only watch as She reared up, drawing in a great gulp of air. She braced herself for more screams.

Fire blossomed on the back of Her skull.

Four dragons broke from the fighting and flew towards Her, the vikings on their backs shouting taunts at the Red Death.

What are they doing? Muninn thought. Even with Hiccup's protection, getting that close to Her was dangerous.

She staggered forwards, shaking rocks loose from the nest with every thundering step. She swung her head around to snap at the offending dragons. She was too slow and as She turned, another of the four - a Nadder - dove at Her neck, raking Her hide with a claw of white fire.

She bellowed in pain. Dragons abandoned their fighting and scattered. Shouts rose up from the Vikings below as they retreated, faced with the monster at the heart of the nest.

Muninn's breath caught in her throat. They were distracting Her.

No, no, no. It wasn't right. She was the last Night Fury; she shouldn't be frozen with fear while four ordinary dragons gave their lives to save the rest. But -

I am your Queen, your Alpha. You belong to me.

Who am I?

She screamed internally, but her throat uttered the words regardless.

She couldn't move.

She could only watch as Her patience ran out.

Away! She commanded.

Three of the dragons staggered mid-air, then turned tail and fled, despite their riders' protests. Only one, the Nadder, remained. She flipped over and dove away a moment too late.

Her jaws yawned open, drawing in a great torrent of air. The Nadder flapped with all her might, but slowly her momentum ran out. Wing-length by wing-length she slipped backwards towards the waiting maw.

She couldn't-

With a shrill whistle, a black blur fell from the heavens.

Hiccup's shot struck Her jaw. The blast threw the Nadder clear, but also tore the human from her back.

"Astrid!" The Nadder screamed in voice of pure agony. "NO!"

Muninn had heard that same scream before. Dozens and dozens of times, as she tore a Fury's Partner from them; one falling to earth, a burnt wreck, the other wailing and roaring in grief and rage. Before, she could only listen to the cries and hope the other's end was swift.

Not this time.

She folded her wings.

For too long, her diving shriek had been only a portent of doom. Now though, it would be as those legendary Furies her sire had spoken of; a sound of hope. She focused on the tiny, plummeting speck below. The human tumbled head over heel, her flailing limbs catching the air just enough that Muninn gained on her.

The ground rushed up to meet them both.

She spread her wings. Her flight surfaces strained as she fought to raise her muzzle towards the horizon.

Then, she was out of the dive, the beach a blur beneath her.

The roar of the wind faded and she heard a second whistle. Hiccup pulled out of his stoop beside her.

"Did you get her?" He asked, breathless.

Muninn looked down between her forelegs. The Viking hung beneath her, dangling by her ankle from one of her forepaws. The human twisted her torso and looked back at her, grinning madly.

The girl was probably delirious with shock and the sudden blood-rush to the head, but Muninn couldn't help it; she smiled toothlessly back at her. "Hold on."

She swung the little Viking forwards then let go of her leg. Muninn caught her by the shoulders as she spun upright, then flared her wings, slowing down and dropping the human onto her feet.

Astrid managed a single syllable of encouragement before a frantic Nadder nuzzled her with enough force to wind her.

Muninn sped over the battlefield. They flew at the height of Her knees, the rest of Her bulk towering over them like a great, living cliff. She felt familiar claws of ice clutching at her.

She was free. She who had owned her, controlled her every move; She who had forced her to murder her own kind.

Her wing muscles stiffened.

"No," she whispered. "Don't think about it. You're protecting the others. You can do that."

She kept flapping. "Hiccup!" she called. "What do we do?"

He looked at Her, eyes scrutinising Her form as Her titanic jaws crunched straight through a catapult like a bundle of twigs.

"She has wings!" he exclaimed. "Let's see if she can use them!" He angled his tail and shot upwards.

"Protecting the others," she repeated, following him towards the clouds.

---

"We cannae help any more! Let's go!"

Stoick stood, surrounded by the bodies of a dozen dragons, gazing up at the monster that had emerged from the nest. He recalled his father's speech about what a Viking could do; 'crush mountains, level forests, tame seas!'

How foolish that sounded now.

They called the Night Fury the 'offspring of Lightning and Death itself' but the Queen truly was a beast out of the Eddas - some bastard spawn of Níðhögg or Jörmungand, he was sure.

"Stoick! Come on!" Gobber grabbed at his tunic, trying to pull him away.

Stoick batted his old friend's hand away. "Gobber, look."

The Queen's first blast of fire had stretched from the walls of the nest all the way to the shoreline; Stoick knew she could annihilate all that remained of Berk in a single breath. Yet she was prevented from doing so by five young Vikings on the backs of their mortal enemies.

In all his years, Stoick had never seen anything so brave. The four adult dragons were like flies on a Yak, buzzing around the Queen's head and darting in to flame at her when she turned to snap at the others.

The Queen roared, the sound striking Stoick with tangible force. The dragons fled. Astrid's Nadder hesitated a moment behind the others. The Queen turned towards her; monstrous jaws opening, her titanic lungs drawing in such a torrent of air that the Nadder was physically sucked towards her.

Deafened by her roar, Stoick saw only a brief blur before blue light flashed on the Queen's jaw, and Nadder and Rider were torn apart. Stoick's breath caught. The Nadder and the Fury both dove to catch Astrid, but they were too far away; they wouldn't reach her in time.

Out of nowhere, a second black shape fell from the heavens, snatching Astrid out of the air moments before they smashed into the ground.

Gobber tugged at his tunic more insistently.

You can't help them. He mouthed.

Stoick exhaled explosively. He was right. Reluctantly, he allowed the smith to lead him away, towards the rest of the warriors. The fate of Berk now lay in the hands of the dragons.

He looked back over his shoulder in time to see two dark specks speeding upwards.

Gods be with you, my son.

---

Hiccup strove for altitude, Auric light blazing within. Muninn climbed alongside him, her own light shining from her spines. The dark, smoke-laden clouds formed an almost solid ceiling that rapidly rushed towards them. A hundred yards. Fifty.

Ten.

Here goes nothing.

"Now!" They flipped over.

Below, the beach was clear. The Vikings retreated to the west and the dragons scattered into the fog bank. He fixed his gaze on the Queen, narrowing his eyes against the wind as they began to fall.

His folded wings buzzed, giving voice to his diving shriek. He heard that familiar note both from within - vibrating through his bones and reverberating in his skull - and from without as Muninn fell beside him.

He opened his jaws. He felt a moment of cold as icy northern air rushed in, then heat as his fire sparked. Fueled by air rushing down his throat, the flames burned ever hotter. The shriek was almost deafening now, drowning out even the roaring wind.

The Queen turned to look at them, but it was too late. Night Furies never missed.

The moment before he fired, Hiccup flared his Auric light and focused it inwards, into his fire-source.

When his shot left his maw it shone a dazzling blue-white.

Their bolts detonated simultaneously. The Queen staggered, then ponderously collapsed onto her side. Flaming mushroom-clouds blossomed above her.

Hiccup and Muninn forced open their wings, covering the length of the beach in the blink of an eye.

"Do you think that did it?" he asked as they came about.

A shadow fell over them as a great wing-sail stretched towards the sky. The trailing edge was tattered from centuries of disuse. Dead scales and pieces of dirt were shaken loose as the Queen lumbered to her feet, stretching her wings to their full extent.

The pressure spiked painfully in Hiccup's ears as she drove her wings downwards. He stared, dumbstruck as she slowly rose into the air. They whipped past her nose and shot upwards

"Well, she can fly."

"Now what!?" Muninn's voice trembled with fear.

Hiccup shook himself. Think! Stormfly, and his own experience, had taught him that their strongest asset was their flight; he knew they needed to get the Queen into the air, but what next? He scanned their surroundings.

The passage of so many wings had diffused the fog bank; the shadows of the first row of sea stacks loomed in the mist. "I have an idea! Follow me!" He flapped hard, accelerating towards the stone pillars.

Close to the nest, the stacks were widely spaced. It took only a slight twitch of his tail to dodge the grey monolith, while the Queen's massive wingspan forced her to swing wide.

"I swear," he growled, weaving around the next pillar. "If I never see another sea stack-"

CRASH! A blast of air rocked Hiccup's flight. He glanced behind. The Queen's maw was mere feet from his tail-fins. She was fast for her size!

Heart suddenly pounding in his ears, he reached for his light and shot forwards, overtaking Muninn. Ahead, a vein of softer rock had been exposed to the elements and had weathered away, leaving behind a narrow archway. He folded his wings, angling towards the gap.

He heard a low woosh as he passed through the gap, then a short whistle as Muninn followed.

He spread his wings as soon as he was clear. He risked another look back. The Queen showed no sign of slowing. Surely she wouldn't-

The Queen ploughed head-first into the archway. The rock shattered under the impact, barely impeding her flight. Her jaws opened. Sickly green gas pooled at the back of her throat.

"Here it comes!" Hiccup warned. "Look out!"

They split up. Muninn broke left. He dove right.

A moment later, a jet of flame blazed through the space between them. Hiccup felt the blistering heat even through his scales. The flames washed up against the sides of another pillar, leaving the stone glowing red-hot.

Hiccup and Muninn regrouped on the other side of the stack, just as the Queen smashed through it.

"Well, that didn't work!" he shouted over the crashing rocks. "Any ideas?"

Muninn's eyes were wide with fear; she was barely holding together.

Hiccup's mind whirled. Outflying the Queen alone wasn't going to be enough. He ran through everything he knew about their species; Night Fury. Speed unknown. Size unknown. The unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself. Never steals food. Never shows itself.

"That's it!"

He looked to the panic-stricken Night Fury flying alongside him.

"Muninn!" He called. "We can get through this, but I need you to stay with me, okay?"

"O-okay!"

Another sea stack rushed towards them. They split on either side of it, the Queen ramming straight through behind them.

"Now, time to disappear!" He raised his tail and sped upwards. With a single wingbeat he was clear of the sea-stack maze. He looked to his side. A second Night Fury climbed with him. "That's it Muninn! Come on!"

Below, the Queen roared and gave chase. Hiccup forced his wings to beat faster, focusing on the soot-stained sheet above. Until they reached the cover of the clouds, they were exposed and vulnerable.

He heard a rush of air from below.

They split apart, spiraling around each other as flames roared upwards. The Queen gained speed, closing the gap between them. Her maw yawned open.

Then they were surrounded by dense grey cloud. The Queen vanished from view. Hiccup heard her jaws snap closed on empty air. He stilled his wings, gliding silently as they swung around in a wide arc.

Hiccup squinted; he could hear the heavy thump-thump of the Queen's wings all around him, but he couldn't see anything through the thick soup of smoke and fog. Remembering his time under the Queen's control, he closed his eyes. He contorted the muscles in his throat and let out that strange, soundless roar.

Colourless light swam behind his eyes.

The strange vision was dominated by a bright shape off his right wing, behind it he could make out the dim, indistinct outlines of the beach and sea stacks. The shape was distorted - the wings blurred into formless blobs of light - but it was unmistakably the Queen.

His eyes opened. He dove towards the shape, Muninn right behind him. Their folded fins buzzed. Thick grey mist rushed over his muzzle.

The air cleared. Hiccup fired. Two flashes of blue light lit the clouds, overlapping peals of thunder echoing off the mountain below. The Queen roared as Hiccup whistled over her head.

He looked back just before they left the pocket of air cleared by her wings. A wave of fear and dread crashed over him, like he'd just plunged into the icy waters below.

The Queen's hide was scorched black where their shots impacted, but her scales were unbroken.

---

Muninn fought to keep her wings from trembling. She shouldn't be here. She couldn't be here, because that meant She was-

No. Focus on Hiccup, he needs you.

She fixed her gaze on the male in front of her, waiting for him to flip over and lead them into another dive.

He kept gliding straight ahead, further away from Her.

"Hiccup!" she whispered urgently.

He looked back at her, eyes wide with fear. "Our shots aren't breaking through her hide! What do we do?!"

"No..." Muninn breathed.

She was free.

She was unstoppable.

Dark memories burst forth from the recesses of her mind.

The last Night Fury circled far above the mountain, so high that even to the dragons swirling around the peak she would appear no larger than a bird. It was so bitterly cold that she couldn't feel the tips of her outstretched wings. The numbness suited her. Up here, where her lungs strained to keep her conscious in the thin air, the screams were quieter.

It was easier to forget what she had lost.

Her eyes forced her to watch the dragons below. She knew she was not to participate in what was to come; her role was only to watch for any survivors of her kind.

Below, a flock of Gronckles and other stone-eaters slowly buzzed forwards. They came into a hover and opened their jaws, unleashing a thunderous barrage of half-molten rocks onto the mountainside.

Stone withered under the assault. Impact after impact carved great chunks out of the mountain. Huge boulders crashed down the slope. Below the tree-line, the foothills were consumed in a vast blaze.

The mountain exploded. Rocks flew outwards, arcing higher than the Flock before falling to the snow-covered ground. In their wake followed the King of the nest, a magnificent Red Death, older and bigger than the Queen, his spines blazing a brilliant crimson in the bright winter sun.

The King roared. What is the meaning of this?! His voice rang clear in her mind even at her altitude. You enslave my flock, assault my nest, Yilbegän's children will kill you for this!

The Queen's reply came as one voice from the throats of her flock. "The Night Furies are dead. Your flock is mine now, brother."

No... The King stopped, hovering in place before the flock. NO!

He roared, exhaling a brilliant jet of fire. He beat his wings and surged forwards, the smoke from his breath curling around him. The flock scattered before the King's rage.

The last Night Fury couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. This was a Red Death, inheritor of Koyash's fire, in his prime. The King was a force of nature; a hurricane of righteous fury.

Then the Queen returned fire.

Flames leapt simultaneously from the jaws of a thousand dragons, streaking towards the King. The last Night Fury lost sight of him almost immediately, the great Red Death consumed in a cloud of smoke, lit from within by flash after flash.

Still, she could hear the King, his bellows of pain and rage audible over the ceaseless rumble of explosions.

The last Night Fury held onto her hope; Alphas did not die easily.

A full minute passed, the flock never letting up their assault. A jet of fire burst forth from the growing cloud of smoke, but the flock was so scattered that it only caught a pawful of dragons. Another minute passed. More spurts of fire followed the first, but the flock kept up the barrage, even as the dragons beside them fell from the sky in blazing meteors.

A third minute slipped agonisingly by, the last Night Fury unable to look away. The King's cries became more and more pained and desperate. His wings - when she glimpsed them through the smoke - grew increasingly tattered.

Eventually they could support him no more.

The King fell. Smoke trailed from bloody rents in his hide. His once proud red markings were smothered beneath a layer of char.

"Muninn!" he roared.

The King struck the mountainside. His remaining fire-gas exploded with a thunderous blast that echoed off the surrounding peaks. A column of thick black smoke, heavy with the stench of burnt flesh rose up, engulfing her.

"Muninn!" Hiccup shouted.

She blinked. The scent of burning vanished from her nostrils. She was no longer surrounded by heavy, black smoke, but dark grey storm clouds. She heard air rushing behind her.

She folded her wings. Flames roared less than a wing-length overhead. She gritted her teeth, feeling her scales crack and skin blister beneath the ferocious heat.

"Muninn!" Hiccup called again. "That was too close! Are you okay?"

"The wings!" she gasped.

"What?!"

"We need to aim for her wings! It's the only way to stop her!"

Hiccup nodded. "Okay. On three. One... two...

"Three!"

They turned sharply, arching up and over Her.

You can do this.

They fell, piercing through the clouds. She desperately swung Her head from side to side, but they were too small and too fast for Her eyes. They fired. Bolts of blue light streaked through the clouds, striking Her wings just beyond the shoulders.

She roared and spun to face the direction they'd come from. At the same moment they opened their wings. They shot over Her tail, then split apart. Hiccup pulled away to the left, while Muninn banked hard in the opposite direction, hugging the edge of the clouds

Halfway through the turn, Muninn heard Hiccup's diving screech. She pulled in her wings, tightening her turn and plummeting back towards Her. As soon as the clouds parted she unleashed her fire. Their shots struck the centre of her wings.

She cried out in pain. Muninn heard a whisper of wind as Hiccup sped past her in the other direction.

She was ready for them on the third strike. As Muninn looped over and dove again, She roared in blind fury, exhaling a jet of flame. She whipped Her head from side to side, rolling over and over. Fire blasted outwards in every direction.

The clouds around her lit orange. "Muninn!" Hiccup screamed. "Look out!"

Muninn snapped her wings open, flapping hard. The glow behind her grew brighter. Panic and Auric light surged within her. She sped forwards. She felt the fierce heat against her scales. At the last moment, she folded one wing and rolled.

Too late.

She screamed. A bolt of agony arced down her spine.

Red light. A monster towering over her.

"No!" she gasped, her lungs pumping air through her jaws faster than her thundering heartbeat.

Focus on the pain. That was real.

She twisted as she fell. Her tail streamed out above her. Green light shimmered over the scorched remains of her left fin, trying to repair the burnt flesh. Given time, it would heal.

But time was the one thing they didn't have.

Already she could feel her reserves of Auric power dwindling, her wound sucking it away. Freeing the flock must have drained Hiccup too; they both had to be left with mere sparks.

And when the power ran out, they would be Hers again.

Or She would simply kill them.

Muninn flipped over and pulled out of her tumble, labouring back up towards Her. She fought for every body-length climbed, struggling against the pain in her tail and the uneven airflow over her fins.

She heard another whistle above her, and a flash of blue lit the clouds, momentarily illuminating Her silhouette

It wasn't enough. Their light would run out before they made Her fall. The familiar fear clutched at her chest. It was over. Unless they found some way to tear open the holes in Her wings now...

Muninn knew what she had to do.

Part of her recoiled from the idea; she felt the fear trying to lock her wings straight.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the screams that haunted her sleep; the last cries of hundreds of dragons that had died by her fires - by Her will. She had been weak, incapable of resisting, unable to save them. But she hadn't forgotten them.

She opened her eyes.

Her wing swept down in front of her. Muninn dove. She cracked open her jaws. Her fire flared within her. She released a bolt of blue light that streaked ahead of her, blasting a hole in the titan's membrane.

Muninn kept her wings pressed tightly to her sides, falling through the rent in Her wing. She spread her wings, stalling just in front of Her nose. "Is that the best you can do?!" she taunted.

"Muninn!" Hiccup cried. "What are you- NO!"

Her jaws began to part. Muninn flipped over, pointing her nose towards the ground. The Red Death's maw snapped shut a heartbeat later. "Come on!" she roared. "Chase me!"

Muninn glanced back as She slowly tipped over, following her into the stoop. The wind rushed over her fins ever faster. Her damaged tail fin was in agony, her abused flight muscles burned. Still, she fought to hold the dive.

Just a bit longer, she thought. Have to make this work.

A deafening roar rang in her ears.

You think you can defy me! I am your Alpha! Your Queen! You belong to me!

Her jaws slammed shut less than a wing-length behind her.

Hold on Muninn. You can do this.

The clouds parted, the beach rushed up to meet them. Behind her, air rushed into a sudden void.

"NO!" She roared. "You are not my Queen!"

She flipped over, throwing out her wings. Her maw blotted out the sky. Fire-gas pooled at the back of Her throat.

The last Night Fury breathed in sharply.

Air rushed between her jaws, down her throat, to her fire-source. Flames blossomed at her core.

For so long, she had clung to the memory of her family flying over the vast ice sheets of their home, brilliant Aurlós shining above them. Now, that light burned within her. She drew on every last spark of power she had left, focusing it into her fire. This is for my parents, she thought.

She exhaled.

Her teeth retracted instinctively as radiant, emerald fire leapt between them. Her shot flew straight and true, streaking upwards, igniting the gases at the back of Her throat.

Her eyes widened. Flames spewed uncontrollably from her maw. Panicked, She spread Her wings.

A terrible ripping sound filled the air, as the weight of the wind forced the holes in Her wings wider.

Muninn tore her gaze away. Precious seconds passed as she fought to right herself; to face towards the ground. She was too low. Too fast. Without the Aür, she could barely move her injured tailfin.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced her nose up until, finally, her wings caught the air. The wind hit her like a solid object, spinning her around. She cried out, feeling something in her chest tear under the strain.

Her head struck the ground and detonated, the blastwave throwing Muninn upwards while Her upper body still fell ponderously towards her. Every flap felt like driving claws into the Night Fury's chest, but she forced her wings to move. Her vision swam as she darted between Her spines, fleeing the ravenous flames. For a moment she was back in the sea-stacks chasing Hiccup. Or was it Stormfly?

The last spine rushed past and was devoured by the explosion. For a single, glorious heartbeat, she was free.

Then a shadow fell over her.

She looked up. The former Queen's club-tail loomed ahead. Her flight muscles cramped solid, wingtips trembling. Utterly spent, she could do nothing to avoid it.

It's what they deserve, she thought, let the old world die completely.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact.

It's over. They'll finally be free.

---

Ash fell thick as the worst of winter's blizzards. Acrid smoke stung Stoick's eyes. Behind him, voices called out, telling him it wasn't safe. Stoick ignored them, pushing further into the miasma.

"Hiccup!" He shouted, noxious fumes burning the back of his throat.

He passed flickering patches of light in the murk - chunks of the Queen still ablaze after the explosion.

"Hiccup!" He called again. "Son!"

A lonely breeze washed over the desolate battlefield. The smoke shifted, revealing a shallow crater;

And a motionless black shape at its center.

Stoick staggered forwards. "Hiccup!"

The Night Fury didn't react. He recognised its markings now, it was the larger one - his son. Oh gods, he couldn't see him breathing.

His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees on the rim of the crater.

"Hiccup..." Tears welled up in his eyes, and he couldn't find the will to stop them. His son, the last connection he had to Valka - the last source of light in his life - was gone. Why?

Because he'd been a gods-damned arrogant fool.

From the moment they'd set foot on the island they were doomed. The flock would have broken and crushed them, or failing that, their master would have sent them all to Helheim in a single breath. It was only thanks to the actions of dragons that Berk survived.

They'd still lost people - losses that they could scarcely afford with the village population decimated by dragon attacks.

Regardless, his people owed their chance to repair and rebuild to their ancestral enemy.

And his son.

"Oh, son..." he sobbed. He'd imprisoned him, disowned him, and forced him to lead them to the nest. Hiccup had no part in this, yet, when the time came, he gave his life like a true Viking; protecting his village;

Correcting his father's mistake.

"I..." Stoick choked out. "I did this..."

He wasn't sure how long he'd knelt there when he heard heavy footsteps approaching.

Astrid emerged from the smoke, her Nadder close beside her - practically rubbing shoulders with her. She came to a sudden stop when she saw the body in the crater. Her hand flew to her lips.

"No..."

A shadow passed overhead. The Night Fury silently settled to the ground beside them.

Stoick forced himself to turn and meet their gazes. "Hic-" He choked. "My son..."

Astrid looked puzzled for a moment, her gaze flicking between his son and the other black dragon.

"Stoick," she began gently, "That's not Hiccup."

He stared at her, not comprehending.

"That's..." she trailed off as the Night Fury began to scrabble in the ash with its claws.

Stoick rose to his feet, wondering what the dragon was doing that was so important. He watched, speechless, as it carved runes into the dirt.

'MUNINN' it wrote.

Stoick blinked. "One of Odin's...?"

"No," Astrid cut him off. "It's her name." She looked at the Night Fury, it nodded. "The dragons don't remember the names their parents gave them - its a side-effect of being controlled by the Queen - so Hiccup..."

Stoick didn't hear anything else she said after that single, magical, word.

He stared at the dragon - the male Night Fury - beside her, through eyes blurry with fresh tears. "Son..."

The Night Fury cleared the ground in front of him with a sweep of his tail and wrote one word.

'DAD'

For seven generations, Vikings and dragons had been mortal enemies. Stoick threw all of that aside without a thought. He lunged forwards, wrapping his arms around the Night Fury's neck.

The black dragon - his son! - grunted in surprise, but didn't pull away.

"Oh, Hiccup..." Stoick breathed. "You came back alive!"

Hiccup hummed softly, his hot breath brushing over Stoick's ear.

Stoick pulled back, looking his son in the eye. Now that he was aware of it, he could see his son's distinctive spark of intelligence in the great reptilian eye. But there was also pain in there.

There's been pain there most of the time you've known him, he thought bitterly.

But this wasn't the old, familiar heartache; this was fresh.

Pain he'd caused.

Everything he'd done to the Night Furies, everything he'd done in the name of revenge, he'd been doing to his own son.

What kind of father did that make him?

"Gods, son, I'm so sorry..."

---

Stormfly chirped, nudging Astrid's arm. She turned to face the Nadder, thankful for an excuse to look away from the intimate family reunion happening before them.

"What is it, girl?"

Since they'd landed, her Nadder hadn't strayed more than a single pace away. Astrid couldn't blame her - she shuddered just thinking of that terrible moment when in one instant they were safe, flying together, and in the next she was alone, plummeting towards the ground.

Stormfly turned away from her with a short trill. Astrid followed her gaze; the smoke had all but cleared now, and a wide circle of stunned survivors had formed around them. Behind the Vikings a second ring was forming, as dragons that had fled the Queen's rampage returned to the beach, blinking at their surroundings and conversing in confused growls.

Both sides eyed each other warily, but, for the moment, neither seemed willing to restart the conflict.

"Come on," she said. "Let's give them some privacy."

The crowd parted before her as she approached, eyes locking onto Stormfly and hands drifting towards weapons.

The Vikings' nervous whispers carried to her on the breeze.

"It's not attacking, none of them are, what do we do?"

"They can't be trusted, ready your weapons."

"No, that Nadder saved Stoick's life, Úlfr saw it."

"Are you sure? Sven said he saw a Nightmare carry off Stoick."

"No, you dolt! Look! Stoick's right there!"

"Is that a Night Fury?"

Eventually, Astrid stood in the gap between the Berkians and the dragons. She turned to face her people. "The dragons are not our enemies," she announced. "The big one the Night Furies - yes, they are Night Furies - killed was their Queen; she was the one who made them raid us. Now that she's gone, they just want to live in peace, like us." She emphasised her point by placing her hand on Stormfly's neck.

A hundred stares focused on her; some merely blank, others outright hostile.

"The only peaceful dragon is a dead one!" Someone shouted, earning a murmur of approval.

Astrid clenched her fists, inhaling sharply. Before she could snap at the man, Stormfly swung her head into view with a soothing trill.

Her Nadder's golden stare met her own.

Astrid sighed softly. "You're right, girl." Now was not the time for this; the battle was too fresh in everyone's minds. She scanned the people in front of her; they were warriors, what they needed was orders.

She couldn't see Stoick through the mass of Vikings, but she didn't think he'd be in a state to give them any time soon.

Astrid thought quickly. Her uncle had drilled the basics of wilderness survival into her almost as soon as she could speak. The same principles applied whether it was a single warrior or an entire raiding party. She rested a hand on Stormfly's flank and took a deep breath.

"Listen up! With the fleet gone, we're going to be stuck here a while. We need to organize before we lose the light!

"Our first priority is the wounded. Get a healing station set up and start ferrying people to it. Second, we need to salvage what we can from the fleet. Comb the beach, if it's usable, drag it here, above the high-tide mark, if it's not, break it down for firewood."

"Well, you heard the lassie!" A familiar voice shouted. "Get movin'!"

Used to recovering after the chaos inflicted by the raids, the villagers didn't need any more instruction. A series of shouts went up as they split into teams, and in the space of a minute the crowd began to dissolve.

Astrid felt a flush of embarrassment as Gobber hobbled up to her. "Gobber, Sir, I'm sorry, I-" She'd totally ignored the chain of command.

"Don't be," he cut in. "You were doing a good job." He looked from her to Stormfly. "Nice to see ya again, you overgrown chicken."

Her Nadder chirped back at him, nonplussed.

"Her name is Stormfly," Astrid told him. "Stormfly, this is Gobber."

"We've met." The smith commented drily. His next words were cut off as three dragons swooped towards them, their wings throwing up choking clouds of ash. The smith tensed beside her. Astrid held out a hand to stop him, but there was no need.

As soon as the lead Nightmare touched down, a figure leapt from his neck and rushed towards them.

"Sis!" Orvar exclaimed, throwing his arms around her. "You're alive! I saw you fall! I thought you were..."

Astrid returned the embrace. "I'm okay, Orvy." She looked up, over her little brother's shoulder. Fishlegs and the Twins stood beside their dragons a few paces away.

She let out a sigh of relief. "You're all okay."

As the rush of battle receded, realisation of what they'd accomplished crept in to replace it. They'd stood up against the Queen, and not only had they survived; they'd beaten her!

"We did it," she breathed. "It's over. We won."

"Hold your horses there, lassie," Gobber cut in. "We're not out of the woods quite yet."

Astrid turned to him. "What is it?"

"Food," the smith replied. "If we're lucky, we'll find a few sacks that aren't too burnt or waterlogged, but that won't feed this lot for very long." He gestured to the beach around them, which was now bustling with activity.

Astrid swore under her breath. It wasn't fair. They survived the flock, and beat the Queen, only to starve to death on this barren beach.

"Uh, about that," Fishlegs spoke up. "I was just thinking," he looked around. The ring of dragons had split up, some flying back up to the nest, others sitting on the beach in small groups, content to stay out of the way of the Vikings.

"If we take a low estimate of the population of the nest," Fishlegs continued. "And a guess at how much an adult dragon eats, then, based on the average amount of food they steal on a raid, multiplied by the number of villages within range..."

"Get to the point, lad."

He gulped, suddenly realising they were all looking at him. "The dragons couldn't get enough food just from raiding! And that's not accounting for how much the Queen must have eaten. They must have another food source!"

Astrid suddenly remembered her first, terrifying, trip to the nest. "You're right!" she exclaimed. "Everything they stole was fed to the Queen, the dragons didn't eat any of it themselves!"

Fishlegs' eyes lit up. "I knew it! It never made sense why they bothered raiding us, when they had all the food they could possibly need on their doorstep." He gestured towards the ocean beyond the fog banks.

"This is fascinating," Gobber interrupted. "But in case you've forgotten: we don't have any boats, and even if we did, we didn't exactly pack for a fishing expedition."

Before Astrid could respond, a gust of wind sent her stumbling forwards into a cloud of dust as their dragons took wing.

"Stormfly!" she cried after her dragon's retreating form. "Come back!"

The Nadder turned to face her, hovering in place. Their eyes met over the distance. Stormfly chirped; trust me.

"Okay girl," Astrid whispered, with a slight nod of her head.

Stormfly turned away from her, circling over one of the groups of the former flock. She called to them for a few moments, and they took flight, climbing up to join the Nadder as she headed into the mists, out to sea.

"Was it something I said?" asked Gobber, bemused.

"I think," Fishlegs replied, glancing at Astrid. "That Stormfly just decided to solve our food problem."

---

The sun had slipped below the horizon, but light remained, cast by a dozen bonfires scattered along the beach. Occasionally a loud snap was heard above the murmur of the Vikings crowded around the flames, as flurry of sparks soared into the night sky.

Astrid stood at the edge of the ring of light cast by one of the fires, Stormfly by her side. It had taken some convincing to get the Vikings to eat food that had been in a dragon's stomach, but eventually their hungry bellies had won out, and the mound of fish coughed up by the dragons had been more than enough to feed everyone on the beach.

She stretched out her arm, gently caressing Stormfly's neck. She followed her hand with her eyes, admiring how the firelight played over her Nadder's scales. Not for the first time that evening, she wondered what she'd done to earn the loyalty of such an incredible creature. Just when she thought she'd done enough to pay back the debt she owed the dragon, she outdid herself, saving the village for a second time in one day.

A golden eye flashed in the firelight as Stormfly turned to look at her, a curious hum vibrating through Astrid's palm.

"Thank you," Astrid whispered. "For everything."

Stormfly hummed louder, arching her neck into their contact.

A raucous cheer rose up from the Vikings. Astrid looked up as Gobber stepped into the ring of firelight, a barrel under one arm and a brace of tankards in his hand. A space was quickly cleared for him, and he sat down. Amber liquid sparkled as he began to pour.

"Is that mead?!" Astrid thought aloud. "Where the Hel did he find that?"

Soon, everyone around the fire had a drink in their hand. While the others lifted their mugs to their lips, Gobber raised his into the air and sang, tunelessly:

"After the long hard days,
Of hunting and of war,
Our throats are tired and thirsty,
And our bodies drenched in gore.

"But we won't waste our evenings
Feeling tired and feeling spent..."

The rest of the crowd joined in. "We perk right up when we breathe in that wholesome honey scent!

"That Abbasidic Brandy;
Too fruity for these tongues!
You can keep your fancy Roman wine;
It tastes like Gronckle dung!"

They went on for several verses, criticising every alcoholic beverage in the known world and growing increasingly boisterous.

"You can keep your filthy poppy;
It makes our bellies bleed!
'Cause when we raise our flagon
To another dead-"

Silence. All eyes turned to Stormfly.

Unperturbed, Gobber continued in a hoarse yell. "There's just one drink we need!"

"Norse mead!"

Astrid couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it all; of Vikings singing drinking songs that had been sung on winter nights in Berk's mead hall for seven generations, while dragons lounged mere feet away.

She had been worried that this peace wouldn't last; that Berk had suffered too much pain at the claws of the flock to just move on. But her village was a hardy and resourceful people; as long as they had booze they could weather anything.

She turned away from the fire as the crowd began a chant of "Chug a mug of mead!" Stormfly trilled softly and followed as she stepped into the darkness. Astrid wove between the bonfires, making her way along the beach, towards where the Queen had landed.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the sky began to glow a faint green - the northern lights shining down through the fog.

Muninn's body hadn't been moved from where she fell.

Astrid stood at the rim of the crater, looking down on where she lay. Hiccup had explained to her and Stoick that the Queen had massacred the Night Furies, and that Muninn was the last of her kind.

To most of Berk, the Night Fury was just another dead dragon on a beach littered with them. To Astrid and Stormfly, she was the last remnant of a golden age; perhaps the last being who truly remembered what the dragons were like before the Queen.

"Who were you?" Astrid murmured. "You went through so much... how did you keep going?"

The only reply was the lonely whistling of wind through the sea stacks.

"I'm sorry..." Astrid looked down at her feet. "That we never got to know you; that all you knew of humanity was imprisonment... I'm not a Skald, but I - we - will remember you... what you sacrificed for us."

Beside her, Stormfly hummed in agreement.

A flicker of green light caught Astrid's eye. Her gaze snapped up to Muninn's body - had a scale caught the light of the Aurora somehow? She looked up. The clouds still hung thick over the island.

Breathless, she turned to her Nadder. "Did you see that?"

Stormfly didn't reply, staring intently at Muninn.

Astrid cautiously slid down into the crater. The light flickered again.

This time she saw it.

A wisp of emerald light, curling in on itself like smoke as it rose from Muninn's body.

A flash of green. Another stream of light drifted up from the Night Fury.

Astrid froze, transfixed by the sight.

The light grew brighter as more wisps joined the first. Soon the strange energy rose from Muninn's scales like glowing steam.

The last Night Fury's eyes snapped open. She drew in a shuddering gasp.

---

Mythology:

Týr - One of the Ӕsir, associated with law and heroic glory. Often equated with Mars in the Greco-Roman pantheon.

Níðhögg - A mythical serpent who gnaws at a root of the world tree, Yggdrasil. In Hel, it chews on the corpses of those guilty of murder, adultery, and oath-breaking.

Author's Notes:

Writing is all fun and games until you actually have to go and write the climatic scene you've been building to for the best part of three years.

Friendly Greetings!

It's been a little while since the last update, so I hope everyone had a good holiday season! My late Snoggletog gift for you all is this double-length chapter (approximately 16,000 words across 5 POVs)! As you can see from where I put the sub-chapter break, I could easily have split this in half and had two normal length chapters, but for various reasons at the time, I didn't want to stop and get bogged down in editing for a week, so I pushed on and ended up with this monster.

I can't avoid talking about it any longer; with the Queen dead, we're nearly at the end of my plans, so the next chapter of this story will be the last. Don't despair, loyal reader, although, like all things, Shadow of the Night must come to an end, it is not the end of Hiccup and Astrid's stories.

And that's all I'm going to say about that for now!

Moving on, the lyrics of Gobber's drinking song are adapted from 'Nord Mead' by Miracle of Sound. "Abbasidic" refers to the Abbasid Caliphate, which controlled the Middle East and north Africa in the Viking age. The process of distillation was known to medieval Arabs, and there is evidence that they distilled wine.

The "Poppy" mentioned in the song is, of course, the Opium poppy, which was, again, known to Islamic societies at the time, where it was used as an anaesthetic. Recreational use wouldn't begin until at least the 14th century, but this is a story about dragons, so forgive me taking some artistic license with the timeline!

If any of you have been following me since 'How Do I Live?' yes, this is the second time a character in one of my stories has quoted Miracle of Sound lyrics. What can I say? He's great - go listen to his latest album ('Level 8' at time of writing) I guarantee you'll find something that you like. If you haven't read HDIL, don't worry, you're not missing much.

You probably noticed I was trying something different in the sections from Muninn's POV. Three years ago, when I wrote the prologue, and laid out the basics of her backstory I didn't have any concrete idea of what her character would be or what role she would play in the story.

Fast-forward to when I was writing chapter 13, I realised that I had this character who I'd given a super-dark backstory to, and I wanted to avoid the new writer's pitfall of giving a character a superfluous tragic backstory that doesn't effect the story or how they act. So, I thought that being brainwashed and forced to hunt your own kind for decades (I still haven't decided exactly how old Muninn is) isn't something you get over in the space of an evening; Muninn should have some lasting mental trauma from her experiences.

So for chapter 13, I came up with the idea that she's incapable of saying the Queen's name, always referring to her in dialogue as 'she' and 'her'. In this chapter, I extended that into Muninn's internal monologue, as well as giving her PTSD-like symptoms.

Please be aware, that although I've tried to be respectful, I am fortunate enough not to suffer with any mental trauma. So, if I've made any glaring mistakes in my portrayal, please let me know, either in a review, or a PM, if you prefer to talk in private.

On a lighter note, I've had my recommendation for the final chapter picked out for a while, so the decision for which story to put in the last available slot was a tough one!

My recommendation for you this time is Dragonoid by Dearing. If you've been following my rec's (go check out my community "Superbun Recommends" if you haven't'!) you'll probably know that I tend to favour stories that stick to the canon or medieval european settings.

Dragonoid, on the other hand, is a post-apocalyptic mecha AU, wherein the titular Dragonoids are attack craft piloted by an alien species that has wiped out most of humanity, save for one last city, which is protected by a force of brave defenders piloting 'Viking' class assault frames (50 foot tall, bipedal anti-aircraft batteries).

The story roughly follows the outline of the first movie, and manages to keep the feel and tone of "HTTYD" while also utilising the science fiction setting to shake things up in interesting ways.

If I had to criticise something about the story, it would be that its adherence to the plotline of the movie prevents it from fully exploring the potential of its premise (HiccupxRuusaan OTP!). But judging the story by what I wish it could have been is unfair; Dragonoid is a smart, well-written reimagining of the story we all love and is definitely worth your time.

Before these notes get any longer, thank you for reading, and please leave your thoughts in a review!

~Superbun