Hiccup and Toothless lazed away most of the day, watching the storm clouds approach. They went flying a few times, but something in the air unsettled Toothless, so they didn't stay up very long. Toothless figured it was the oncoming storm.
'Night Furies don't generally like lightning. It is the weapon of Skrill, our natural enemy.' Toothless was in a passive mood, curled up in the cave mouth, watching the distant storm. Hiccup was sitting next to him, trying to draw it. He spared a thought for the notebook he'd entirely devoted to a certain project, but it was still in the forge. It wasn't important.
"Why are you guys enemies?"
'I'm not sure. We're both pretty rare species. Apparently, Skrill always call us "Usurpers," whatever that's supposed to mean. If there's no storm, the Night Fury will always win in a fight. If there is a storm, the Skrill usually wins, but not always. They always attack on sight though. Storm or not.'
They whiled away the day like that. Hiccup really didn't see any reason to return to the village. He would just come back here at night anyway. Everyone was likely still sleeping off the activities of the night before last. He had been, and he was used to sleepless nights.
Night hadn't quite fallen yet. The storm was minutes away from breaking. Toothless's ears shot straight up.
"What is it bud?" Hiccup was alarmed.
'Not tonight. Why would it be tonight? But it is, isn't it.' Toothless turned to Hiccup and said the word Hiccup most anticipated and most feared. 'Raid.'
Hiccup didn't waste time asking if Toothless was sure. He definitely was. Hiccup jumped onto the saddle, and they took off.
Night hadn't technically fallen, but the storm clouds made that irrelevant, and all was dark. Hiccup accessed Toothless's senses entirely. The Fury had the advantage in every single sense right now. Hiccup would share those advantages.
They moved Toothless's tailfins as one and shot to a spot high above the village. The cloud bank was nearly upon the village. They had grabbed the rock in the cave, and Hiccup was carrying it, hunched over it in the saddle, as had been decided earlier. Toothless would fly, Hiccup would drop the rock.
Toothless landed on the mountain, camouflaged against the dark stone surface in the darkness.
They waited. The storm was now over the village, but it had yet to break. There hadn't been a single bolt of lightning yet. No rain had fallen, despite the immense downpour clearly waiting to be unleashed.
"How could you tell? They aren't even here yet." Hiccup wasn't doubting Toothless, but he was curious as to how that worked. He looked down at the village and realized that they were preparing for a raid. For that matter, how did the village always seem to know a moment ahead of time?
'It's more of a feeling. Live through enough raids, and you can just tell. I bet some of the older Vikings can feel it too.' Toothless had noticed the village preparing.
Hiccup stared at the ominous clouds and wondered what they were waiting for. Then he saw a wing flick through one of the lighter clouds. "They're above the storm!"
The raid began, the common dragons plummeting through the cloud cover to attack and destroy. But Hiccup couldn't find it in himself to care. He and Toothless were there to fight one very specific dragon, who had not yet shown herself. The clouds were almost black now, and if it wasn't for Toothless's night vision, Hiccup would have seen absolutely nothing.
They heard the rising ballistic screech. They rose as one, racing out to meet the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself. The plan was, get the Queen's attention, get her to follow them, lead her to the cove. Then get above her and knock her out, Toothless flying and Hiccup dropping the rock. It was simple, difficult, and risky. They didn't care. Hiccup would have done much crazier to rescue his own mother.
They stopped above the center of the village. They would get her attention after her first attack when she would be closer to the ground. She blasted a tower as she dove past it, hitting it from only a few feet away, an explosion of plasma illuminating her silhouette.
In that moment, the storm broke.
The first bolt of lightning struck the raiding Night Fury dead on.
Hiccup and Toothless were paralyzed in horror. She had fallen limp out of the sky, straight into the village square. She had never even seen them, and now she was most likely dead or would be in seconds if she wasn't already. They hovered there, invisible to the Vikings.
The raiding dragons paid them no mind. They would continue raiding until the Queen took control of another dragon and resumed command.
Stoick stared in utter disbelief. He walked over to the downed black dragon of death. He thought absent-mindedly that they'd have to change the book. It might be the offspring of death itself, but not lightning. Thor had disproven that tonight. This was a message from the gods, that was obvious. But what? Thor struck a dragon no one had ever seen out of the sky with a single bolt of lightning. Why?
The dragon's chest heaved. It was unconscious, but not dead.
Stoick laughed as he saw the twisting of fate. He turned and addressed the few villagers who had seen what happened. He had to shout to be heard over the rain. The storm had finally broken.
"We needed a Nightmare! Thor judged my boy, and found the Nightmare not good enough! SO HE SENT US A NIGHT FURY INSTEAD!" That last sentence was shouted at full force, Stoick's voice carrying further than ever before, tinged with joy and disbelief.
Hiccup and Toothless were closer now, a few dozen feet above the crowd, and listening in utter horror. There was no way for them to get Toothless's mother out of there, not while she was surrounded by armed Vikings.
Stoick continued speaking. "Gobber, Ack! Get over here and restrain the beast! We'll put it in the Nightmare pen. Tomorrow, Hiccup will kill it in the arena. A fitting way for the son of a chief to prove himself a Viking worthy of Berk!" He stepped away, and a dozen Vikings led by Gobber and Ack swathed the dragon in chains and rope. Once it was so entangled it looked more rope than dragon, they began the laborious process of dragging it to the arena. For Hiccup to kill in front of the entire village in the morning.
Hiccup and Toothless might have intervened at that point, secrets notwithstanding. But they were abruptly struck with another problem. Literally.
Hiccup stared at the bound and unconscious dragon being dragged towards the arena. "We can attack when they're on the bridge. We'll knock her off and catch her, to carry her to-" He was cut off as Toothless was rammed into from the side. Dragon and rider flew sideways, being shoved by something. They landed heavily, rolling to a stop.
Toothless got to his feet. Nothing was damaged, including his saddle and tailfin, but his side hurt. He turned to check Hiccup frantically. Hiccup was standing up from where he had been thrown. The rock they had planned to use was nowhere to be found.
Hiccup shook his head. "I'm fine. What was that?"
At that moment a third creature landed in the clearing. It was a large Monstrous Nightmare. Bigger than the normal size. It was blood red, and its eyes were strange. They had no pupils, just pure yellow orbs of malice. No, it had pupils upon closer inspection, but they were so slitted they were almost invisible.
Toothless flared his wings. 'You!'
The dragon took a step forward. 'So you are not dead after all.'
Toothless was the one who had said that, but it was what the Nightmare had actually said. He was relaying what the other dragon said so Hiccup could hear.
Toothless spoke for himself, both to Hiccup and the Nightmare. 'You're the Queen. Ran out of Night Furies, so of course, you just take over another dragon. Go away. Or I'll be forced to deprive you of yet another useful slave.' Those last words dripped with derision and scorn.
The Nightmare flared up, literally lighting its own body on fire. 'You're much better than this body. I think I'll take you back.'
Toothless had no time to react as a Gronckle dropped literally out of the sky onto him, landing on his back and slamming him into the ground.
Hiccup noticed that an instant before that happened, the Nightmare's pupils returned to normal. He understood, in the corner of his mind that wasn't panicking, that the Queen had temporarily taken control of the Gronckle, in order to hit Toothless from above.
The Gronckle's eyes returned to normal, and it buzzed off, seemingly unconcerned with its temporary loss of control. The Queen was back in the Nightmare now, judging by what it did next.
Hiccup ran to stand in front of Toothless, who was definitely not going to be able to defend himself. When the Gronckle had hit him, Hiccup had felt the link between them snap, just like the last time Toothless had been knocked unconscious. He hated that emptiness in his head but ignored it. He pulled out his scythe and held it threateningly. "I know you understand me, Queen. You'll take him over my dead body."
The Nightmare snorted. It lunged at Hiccup.
He swung the scythe around, digging a furrow in the dragon's chin as he dodged. He felt terrible hurting any dragon, especially one who wasn't in control of their own actions, but he had no choice. For all the good that it did. His dodge had been necessary, but it took him out of the Nightmare's path. The dragon leaped on top of Toothless, and its claws tightened around his unconscious form. Before Hiccup could get to it, it flew.
The Queen flew away with the limp form of Toothless between her talons, and the raid ended.
The Queen had gotten something infinitely more valuable than food. Namely, the Night Fury she had assumed dead. Once she looked it in the eye, she would once again have a Night Fury among her slaves, to use as she wished. The raiding party flew towards Helheim's gate. Straight to the nest.
Hiccup felt horrible. Not only had they never even gotten a chance to save Toothless's mother, Toothless was gone, and most likely a short flight away from being a slave again. The thing he hated above all else. And Hiccup had failed. Failed to protect him. He had never even had a chance of fighting that Nightmare off. Maybe in a year or two, with more practice.
But he was done feeling sorry for himself, done panicking. He knew that acting emotionally instead of planning in times like this lead to disaster. So he thought. He needed a way to the nest. And he was scheduled to face Toothless's mother in the ring in the morning.
Oh, the irony.
He had to assume she would be out of the Queen's control, and if the Viking method of tranquilization was any indication, she would be knocked unconscious at least twice before morning by various Vikings whenever she stirred. So he had to hope she would have her full memories back, like Toothless after his second blow to the head on the cliffs. Hiccup was formulating a plan. He would face Toothless's mother in the ring, and he would try to get her to trust him. They would break out of the arena, and go rescue Toothless.
He knew it was a stupid plan. There was so much that could go wrong, he didn't even know where to start. The only things he had going for him was his affinity for dragons, especially Night Furies, and the pure insanity of what he would attempt. But he had no options. He would do this, or Toothless's mother would die to some other Viking, Toothless would be stuck as a slave forever, and the raids, the war would never end.
He stumbled back into the village. The damage was light because the raid had ended so soon.
The Vikings all assumed it was because the raiding dragons had lost their Night Fury. They didn't know it was because the raiding dragons had found a Night Fury.
Hiccup found Stoick. He had nothing to prepare, no final arrangements. The only thing he could do between now and entering the ring was think. Try to figure out the best way to win a hostile dragon's trust while in an arena surrounded by bloodthirsty spectators.
"Ah, son. Have you heard the news?" Stoick sounded jubilant.
"Yes. I'll be waiting by the arena gate." Hiccup put no emotion into his voice. He was done. Done pretending, done faking things. That at least had happened. One way or another, in the next twenty-four hours it would all be over.
Astrid had heard what had happened, though she hadn't seen it. And she cursed Stoick and Thor for making it happen. She had wanted to be the best. Now, being the best didn't mean killing the most Monstrous Nightmares. Whether or not Hiccup succeeded, she would have to top fighting a Night Fury. No one had done that before. Being the best meant killing Night Furies. Thor and Stoick had upped the ante.
She also had a sneaking suspicion. Hiccup wouldn't be able to kill that dragon. It would escape, taking with it Astrid's best shot at success. It might have been paranoia or intuition. But Astrid stopped by the armory and took a bola. She would carry it with her. She would take it to the arena. And she would take one of the highest seats. She could throw a bola reasonably well. There was no harm in being prepared.
Stoick stared at the dragon no one had ever seen. It was still unconscious, though they had hit it in the head whenever it stirred to make sure of that. He would order them to untie it and leave it alone an hour before the event. That should be enough time for it to wake up. Right now, he wanted to try and guess how it would fight. How Hiccup would do against it. It was a sleek, powerful dragon. Four stocky and muscular legs, and almost no neck. Undoubtedly very fast. But relatively small and weak scales. The dragon was... Stoick frowned. The dragon was built for offense. Purely for offense, with no apparent defensive capabilities. Its attacks would undoubtedly be quick and brutal.
The parallels to Hiccup's weapon were extremely unnerving. The dragon and Hiccup by all appearances had remarkably similar fighting styles. But Stoick had faith in his son. Rather, he had faith in the Viking his son was turning into, and in the gods who had deemed him worthy of this challenge. Hiccup would fight this dragon, and he would kill it. Stoick had no doubts about that. The way they had gotten this dragon, it had to be fate for Hiccup to begin his life as a real Viking by killing the most dangerous dragon of all.
Hiccup ran into Stoick once more that night, in the main room of their house. Stoick had something behind his back. "Hiccup. I brought you something. To keep you safe, in the ring." He held out a Viking helmet. "You deserve it. Every Viking has a helmet. And this one's special. When you carry it, you carry all of us with you." Stoick didn't tell Hiccup it was made out of the metal of his mother's armor. specifically, her breastplate. Hiccup didn't need the distraction right now.
Hiccup took it, though he didn't want it. He didn't have a choice. He mentioned resting in preparation for the events of the next day, and left the room.
Hiccup spent the remainder of the night in his room in his house. He hadn't done anything in there besides sleep in a few weeks. Dust was everywhere. He had tried to get some sleep, to better be prepared for the morning. But he had failed at that. He would just have to operate on no sleep. Which wasn't anything unusual, for him.
He looked at the things scattered around his room. The parchments, the old sketchbooks, the invention prototypes. All from the time before the bola launcher. All from the Viking wannabe he had been. There were so many inventions designed to kill, to capture, or to maim. They had all failed. He was glad of that now.
He looked around the room once more. This place to him represented what he had truly been before Toothless. Intelligent, but desperate, depressed, and bloodthirsty in the mistaken conviction that killing a dragon was something he wanted to do.
He was ready to leave all this behind because he already had. The only things he valued now were the things he had made after he met Toothless. They were different because the things he built after Toothless were made to rebuild, protect, or help. Even the scythe had been made to protect. He had changed. Or maybe he had just accepted who he really was. Not a Viking. Not one of them. Hiccup still harbored some faint shred of hope that some of them could change. But he wasn't going to risk trying to change them when the lives of the people he truly cared about hung in the balance. Hiccup had more important goals right now.
It was time. Hiccup shouldered his scythe and carried it out instead of leaving it on his back. He was going to war. Just not against the foe people would expect. He walked through the eerily silent village. Everyone was already at the arena. He made his way to the gate, the only thing keeping him out of the arena. Now he put his scythe on his back. Stoick and Gobber were waiting for him there.
Stoick smiled proudly. He patted Hiccup on the back. "Make us all proud."
Gobber spoke up. "Ye'd better get goin' Stoick. Ye've gotta give a speech before Hiccup can start, remember?"
Stoick left the arena gate and made his way to his seat. There he gave a speech.
Hiccup tried not to listen. He caught the general idea. Today Hiccup becomes a Viking, blah blah blah. He didn't need to listen. He was done with that. Now he just needed to get one dragon to listen to him.
Gobber made eye contact with Hiccup as Stoick finished his speech. "Knock 'em dead."
Hiccup faced his mentor. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing he could say right now.
Gobber pushed the gate open, ushered Hiccup into the arena proper, and locked the gate behind him. Hiccup was alone in the arena. He turned slowly, taking in the cheering crowd. Now was time for step one of his plan. Hopefully, this would work. "Everyone, I want your attention." He yelled all of this at the top of his lungs and made eye contact with Stoick. "I want your word as chief no one will enter the arena to interfere. No matter what happens." If Stoick gave his word here, the entire village would be honor-bound to not interfere. It would make an impossible task slightly less impossible.
Stoick was taken aback. His son looked almost angry. But he could understand the sentiment. He himself would rather have died in his initiation test than be saved from failure. This was what would make Hiccup a Viking. The other trainees would prove themselves in raids, but this was Hiccup's only chance, as the best in class. "You have my word!" He was confident Hiccup wouldn't need help.
Hiccup smiled. That had been one of his biggest fears. He had envisioned dozens of Vikings dropping into the arena and stopping him once his plan started. Now they couldn't. A Viking was bound by his word, and the chief had just spoken for the entire village. He moved to the center of the arena. His scythe was still on his back. "I'm ready."
The doors to the Nightmare pen opened. Inside, a Night Fury slightly larger than Toothless lurked. Her eyes were dark green, darker than Toothless's acid green. She had a very distinctive scar on her back. Hiccup realized that the strange pattern was from the lightning strike. She didn't come out of the pen. She simply stared at him. Eyes accepting of her fate. Just like Toothless had. She was just as doomed as Toothless had been. Trapped, injured, no way out.
Hiccup knew he had to get her to come out of the pen. Hopefully she understood as much Norse as Toothless had suggested. He also really hoped he remembered her name and Toothless's correctly. He spoke softly, so he would be unheard by all but the Night Fury. "Svarturkló?"
The Fury's eyes widened, and her pupils dilated for a second before contracting. She certainly recognized that name. Her own. She stepped out of the pen and slowly began circling Hiccup, keeping to the edges of the arena, trying to get downwind. To smell him.
Hiccup understood this. And so he waited. Once she was downwind, she abruptly stopped and stared at him. It wasn't a friendly stare.
Hiccup tried to explain. What had Toothless's name been? "Svarturkappi."
At that, her eyes narrowed. She growled.
Hiccup abruptly realized that he had to explain a bit more. "No, I didn't hurt him. We're friends. Friends." He shook his head. "Not enemies." He sighed in relief as the Fury eyed him with confusion. She understood that, at least. The smell of a Night Fury was pretty convincing evidence.
From above, the Vikings didn't have the angle to see into the pen. They gasped when the Night Fury slowly crept out, keeping its back to the wall. It circled the arena, eyes focused on Hiccup, who still hadn't even drawn his strange weapon.
Stoick didn't know what his son was doing. He was just staring at the dragon as it circled him. He hadn't even drawn his weapon. And was he talking? Stoick couldn't hear it, but he could see Hiccup's lips moving. He didn't like this.
Hiccup decided now was the time. "Svarturkló. Svarturkappi is in danger. The Queen has him." Svarturkló bristled. She seemed to understand that Toothless was in danger, but Hiccup was pretty sure she didn't understand the word 'Queen'. It wasn't something Vikings ever had reason to say. They didn't know she existed.
He tried another way. "Svarturkappi is at the nest. We need to save him. Both of us. Together." Svarturkló definitely understood the word 'nest'. Hiccup wasn't sure just how much of the rest she got.
Time to find out. He took a step towards her. Hands held out. Weapon still on his back.
Svarturkló bristled, wings flaring. She didn't seem to care about his scythe for some reason. Maybe she didn't realize it was a weapon. She had never seen one and had only seen him with it on his back. Vikings wore a lot of stupid things not intended as weapons, like the spikes on Astrid's skirt, so to her it probably looked like a very stupid choice of clothing. She was staring directly at his helmet. The Viking helmet.
Well, this was certainly going to be symbolic. He almost wanted to thank Stoick for giving him such a perfect demonstrative aid.
Hiccup looked up at the crowd. He looked at Svarturkló. Made eye contact. "I am not a Viking. I never have been, and I never will be." He took his helmet and dropped it at his side. The clang as it hit the ground and rolled was deafening in the shocked silence. "I care more about your son than I do this entire village. Let me help you rescue him." He raised his hand toward her and looked away.
Stoick was at a loss for words. If Hiccup had defied him, or explained, maybe his anger could overcome his shock. But this... this confused him far too much for him to form coherent words. When his son raised his hand at the deadliest dragon in existence and looked away, Stoick was sure Hiccup was trying to kill himself. Then, after a moment, the dragon did the unthinkable. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself made contact with Hiccup, moving its nose to meet his palm, eyes closed. This was madness. That thought broke him out of his trance somewhat. He slammed his hammer against the bars of the iron dome in front of him. He wanted to shock the world back to normal. At that moment, he wanted the dragon to attack his own son, to restore the world to as it should be.
Hiccup heard the hammer impact the bars. He flinched, and the dragon under his hand did the same. He thanked the gods that Night Furies weren't like Nightmares. That would have spooked any other dragon. But Svarturkló only flinched. Maybe it was because they both had other things to worry about. He raised his eyes, and she opened hers. They made eye contact. They could see a reflection of themselves in the other. Determination and trust born of necessity.
He spoke softly. "We need to get out of here. Can you fly us out?" Svarturkló may not have understood the exact message, but she clearly knew enough Norse to catch the meaning. She eyed the arena dome and purred so softly he could barely hear it. It was her way of saying yes.
During this entire thing, the usually rowdy Vikings were silent. First from the spectacle of seeing the unseen dragon. Then from the pure insanity of Hiccup's actions. Finally from shock when the dragon returned the insanity in defiance of reality as they knew it.
The reactions of the teens were as unique as they were. Fishlegs couldn't even think of his stats right then. He was having every number he had ever written proven obsolete. What use were stats about the world when the very concepts they described suddenly meant nothing? Hiccup had recently been a source of confusion, but this was too much. Fishlegs would need the next several weeks to process what was going on.
The twins stared in utter awe. They couldn't comprehend what was going on, but as creators of chaos, they welcomed anything that made the world more interesting. This certainly did that, if nothing else. Anyone looking at their faces would have seen expressions of utter delight.
Snotlout was angry. Hiccup was supposed to get killed by the Night Fury, not... whatever this was. His simple mind could only hold that one line of thinking. Of the teens, his reaction was the closest to the reactions of most of the Vikings.
Astrid. What was Astrid thinking? She was choosing not to think. She genuinely didn't care what Hiccup did now. He was a walking corpse in her eyes. Him and that Night Fury. She still had her bola.
Author's Note:Well, no one called that. Though, toothlessgolfer's guess was a very interesting one, and one I may at some point write in another story. I took great pleasure in using the 'gathering storm' metaphor all this time, knowing what I was referring to was both a physical storm and a metaphorical one, the physical causing the metaphorical. Fun.