Author's Note: Last chapter passed five thousand views overall for the story. A modest total compared to some of my other works, but that's fine. This story is a bit more out-there than any of my other works anyway.
"Top o' the mornin', chief Astrid!" Gobber saluted with his hook hand, hurrying along to Astrid's side. He pulled a sheet of parchment from somewhere and began reading from it. "We've got a few things 'ere."
"Foreign news first." Astrid requested, still walking through the village. Her ax hung by her side, and a sky-blue cloak fluttered in the breeze after her. It was the color of Stormfly's scales, a memorial to her friend. It made her feel a little better, to think that her faithful companion still had her back, even if only in spirit.
"Well, the Berserkers are quite interested in, eh, the 'dragons broken to the saddle', I think it said in their letter. Their chief wants to meet to discuss trade, and maybe renegotiate the treaty."
Both of them saw what that truly meant, coming from the man so obviously crazy that he'd been named Dagur the Deranged, chief of the Berserkers.
"Tell him I'll meet him..." Astrid began, her voice cold. "If he comes to Berk with at most a single ship. Any more will be seen as breaking the treaty, an act of aggression." The subtle politics involved in chiefing had in some ways been the worst to learn, but after over a year, she had a handle on how to play the little games involved. It would not be breaking the treaty for Dagur to show up with his entire armada. Not with how the current treaty was written. By acting as if it was, Astrid was sending a message. The balance of power had shifted, and their agreements with the Berserkers would shift to reflect that. She was not going to give the Berserkers anything involving dragons. Not even if the dragons had been hers to give.
"Aye, I'll get on tha'..." Gobber muttered, marking a few notes in the margins of the parchment.
"Local issues?" Astrid prompted.
"Not much today. Some kids tippin' over yaks..."
"Put the Thorston twins on sentry duty for a week and see if it stops," Astrid said wryly. "They never change."
"Already did, actually. Though it was more as retribution for them paintin' me hook yellow." Gobber admitted, waving his now clean hook around for emphasis. "I don't know where they get these ideas."
"Who knows. Anything else?"
"Aye, there's some issues over at the memorial statues. An ongoing dispute between Bucket and a few of the engravers." Gobber sighed. "That one's likely to explode if it isn't dealt with soon."
Astrid agreed with that. Bucket was usually pretty mild-mannered, but when his artistic side was insulted, things got heated quite quickly. She changed direction, heading now towards the Great Hall, and the cliffside nearby where the construction was taking place.
As she moved through the village, she looked around proudly. The houses, now freed from the design constraints inherent in an ongoing war, were becoming more elaborate and colorful by the day, their occupants slowly realizing that effort put into the design would no longer be wasted when the house was inevitably destroyed in the conflict.
Some redesigns had indeed been necessary, such as making sure every house was stable enough to support several multi-ton dragons on the roof at any given time. A few collapses as support beams gave out after months of pressure had made sure they all understood the need for that. Many houses now had additions to the sides or in a few cases an additional floor. Those were made to accommodate the family dragons, and while not common were a familiar sight, large additions with oversized entrances. Vikings were crafty, and the lack of a war to fight had freed many of them to pursue woodcarving or stonecraft, secondary hobbies turned full-time occupations.
But Vikings were still Vikings, and no one could accuse the people of Berk of going soft. Tempers still flared, drunken brawls were as commonplace as ever, and the average Berkian could still fight like the best of them.
There was something more now, though. The Vikings of Berk freely interacted with the dragons in their midst. It had been something like this before, but once Fishlegs had cracked the language of their reptilian cohorts, the way Vikings treated the dragons had changed, if subtly. They were respected now, members of the village. Fishlegs had been quite insistent about that. Even though not many Vikings had managed to learn the language, or even wanted to, they all treated the dragons with respect. Fishlegs had told Astrid that most dragons shared the disinterest in learning on their side as well, so at least the interest was mutually lackluster.
She herself was trying to learn, though only able to pick out a few words so far, despite months of practice. Fishlegs had told her first-hand of the odd pain that seemed to be inherent in knowing both languages, but she would shoulder that and worse to be able to listen to both sides of her village, to hear every villager.
The Great Hall loomed into view as she rounded a corner. Stepping off the path, she and Gobber made their way up to the sheer mountainside by the side of the hall. There was a flurry of activity around it, scaffolding and pulleys lifting men and supplies up and down the area of work. There was also a near-inconsolable man with a bucket on his head sitting off to the side, alternating between scowling and frowning at the construction.
Astrid stepped into the man's line of sight. "What is it now, Bucket?"
"Those hacks are making Stoick's ears too big!" Bucket exclaimed. "I've painted him before, for the chiefly portraits. I know how big they should be."
Astrid took a moment to examine the half-finished carving, giving Bucket vague reassurances as she did. It was done in relief, and when it was finished it would have three figures. Stoick the Vast above and slightly behind Hiccup and Toothless. A monument to the great chief of Berk, and to the son that changed the way the world worked. A monument, though none knew it yet, that would rewrite history slightly. Astrid had already told the engravers what would be put below it. Stoick the Vast, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and Toothless. A brief history of their greatest achievements. At the very bottom, a lie.
Killed by a witch known as Vithvarandi.
It was not a lie in the case of Stoick, but it certainly was for the other two. She didn't really care. This was a way to preserve their legacy, to leave it untainted by uncertainty and unanswerable questions. Hiccup would not be remembered by future generations for his use of dark magic and disappearance. He would be remembered for his amazing accomplishments, the things he truly deserved to be known for.
It was her way of apologizing, in a way. She saw now that she could have treated him better, both before and after the events at the nest. Whether or not she liked him, her attitude could have been better.
She had not married, not yet. At the moment she didn't need the distraction. Leading the village was enough to keep her occupied, and would be for the foreseeable future. Truly, she had half a mind to remain unmarried and to pass on the chieftainship to whoever was the most worthy of the next generation. It made sense, and would hopefully set a precedent that would make Berk stronger in the future.
Something tickled the back of her mind, a warrior's instinct. She was being watched. She turned, half-expecting some sheepish villager waiting to get her attention, hoping for help with a problem of some embarrassing nature. That happened far more often than she would have guessed, back before becoming chief. Who knew how Stoick had handled it so discreetly.
Instead, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Vikings going about their business, dragons of all kinds going about theirs, a constant rainbow of color.
Then she saw it. A dragon that glinted in the noon sun, his scales a pale gold, eyes near white, large and expressive.
A Night Fury, one she'd definitely never seen before. There had not been a single Fury in the village since that violent night Hiccup and Toothless had left. Who was this?
She wished Fishlegs was around so that she could ask. But he was nowhere in sight, likely on the other side of the village.
The Night Fury shifted its gaze from Astrid to the half-finished memorial, its eyes wide and curious. It walked closer, ignoring the awed sounds its mere presence elicited from the amazed Vikings. After a few moments, it turned and faced Astrid, deliberately making eye contact. Then it slowly began walking towards the outskirts of the village.
The intent was clear. "Gobber..."
Gobber sighed, looking after the dragon that almost glowed in the sun. "Aye, I know. I'll go find Fishlegs, but somethin' tells me ye won't need 'im by the time he gets 'ere."
Astrid nodded absently before following the Fury. She caught up quickly, as it was walking slowly, and fell in alongside it.
It looked up at her, and she noticed an odd arrangement to the scales under its eyes. The eyes themselves were wide and friendly, but determined.
"Do you understand me?" Astrid asked, knowing the odds were low. Most dragons didn't.
No response. So clearly, asking questions was pointless. They reached the edge of the village, and the dragon unfolded his wings, their golden expanse glinting in the sun.
Astrid could see lines of silver breaking the solid gold. Mottling, natural discoloration? Or were they old scars? She wasn't sure.
The dragon nodded to his own back, craning his neck.
She hadn't ridden a dragon since Stormfly died, except the few times she needed to make an impression, generally riding standing on Barf and Belch's back, for dramatic effect. But her muscles remembered this, and she slung herself on fluidly. Almost perfectly, though her legs faltered at the lack of saddle.
The golden dragon lifted off, taking her soaring in spirals above Berk. It was a sight she never tired of, Berk from dragon-back. But at the moment, her mind was unsettled with too many questions to truly enjoy the view.
The dragon, on the other hand, had no problem whole-heartedly staring at Berk, wonder clear in his eyes.
Astrid laughed at that. Like a tourist...
Well, he was a tourist, a visitor. They definitely didn't have any permanent Fury residents.
After a few minutes of sightseeing, the dragon turned towards the back end of the island, angling towards a beach that was never used, so far from the village.
Astrid was only somewhat surprised to see two figures out of memory there, looking as if they had stepped out of the memorial to greet her. Hiccup looked as if he hadn't aged a day, though Toothless had several new scars. The two were both smiling, though Hiccup's smile had a sad edge to it.
Astrid slid off of the golden dragon, patting his head in thanks for the ride. She gestured to him as he ran over to stand on Hiccup's other side. "Made a new friend?"
Hiccup laughed. "Not quite. This is Spark, Beryl's older brother."
Right, he called Toothless Beryl now. That brought Astrid back to reality. "Why are you here?"
"A few reasons." Hiccup replied seriously. "For one thing, I thought you should know, Vithvarandi is dead. Well and truly dead."
"Good," Astrid nodded. "She was a threat."
"To all of us." Hiccup agreed. "Also, I have a few things for you, or more accurately for the village."
"Do you plan on delivering them yourself?" Astrid asked skeptically. "I'm really not sure how you'd be received by the people."
Hiccup smiled sadly. "No, I'm not. I have no place on Berk. Rest assured, this is just a visit to tie up loose ends." His smile became more genuine, and he casually tousled Spark's earplates. "And to let Spark get a look at Berk. He really wanted to see the place."
"I know, he acted just like most of our Viking visitors do," Astrid replied lightly. "Gawking at everything."
"Hey, I guess that proves you're doing a good job." Hiccup mused. "Do you still resent me handing the job to you?"
"No, not really. I was the best one for it."
"No argument here." Hiccup said, shaking his head. "From what Spark's been saying, you've done a great job. He heard talk that dragons are treated as equals now?"
"Yes, they are. Fishlegs figured the language out, and everything else just kind of naturally followed. It's not easy to learn though."
"Yeah, I did kind of get a shortcut." Hiccup looked up, his demeanor a bit less lighthearted, a bit more sorrowful. "Do many want to learn?"
"The important ones do. Kids, and me." Astrid replied, a bit embarrassed. "The kids ensure the next generation will know it, and I will be able to deal fairly with my own people without an interpreter. Though I can barely understand anything right now."
"Good, very good. Better than I'd hoped, to be honest." Hiccup pulled out two rectangular objects from a bag he wore over his leather armor. "One of these is for the village, and the other is for you."
"What are they?"
"Books. I had a lot of time to burn, while we waited for Spark's wings to heal." Hiccup smiled down at Spark, who warbled happily and nudged his side.
So those were scars, not natural marks. "What about?"
Hiccup tossed the books to Astrid, who deftly caught them. She looked them over. The cover of one was titled 'Ember', and the other 'Stormfly.'
Now she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Hiccup..."
"Works of fiction, written by an anonymous author." Hiccup said sadly. "So that there's no mention of magic, and no connection to the rumors I'm sure will circulate about me for centuries."
"Actually, I've made sure that part of your life will not be remembered," Astrid admitted. "According to the memorial, you and Toothless died alongside Stoick, to a witch by the name of Vithvarandi, who was never heard from again."
Hiccup chuckled, while Toothless actually looked insulted. "That's fine. I like it, actually. Anyway, the one called 'Ember' is for the village. It's pretty long, and it tells of a dragon called Ember, from hatching to death. It's not a happy ending, but I made it as accurate as I could." He blushed. "To a point. I do want kids to be able to read it. Some of the more private memories may have not made the cut."
Astrid looked at the book again, as if seeing it in a new light. "So... a true story."
"Toothless's father, and Spark's. Not that anyone would know the dragon named Beryl in the story would grow up to be the Toothless of legend."
"And the other..." Astrid mumbled, knowing what was inside the smaller tome.
"Everything I got from her, nothing left out whatsoever. It's not all nice, and I didn't soften it at all. I wrote what she saw, what she felt. I figured since she was killed before you ever got a chance to really know her, this was the least I could do."
"This is..." Astrid didn't know how she wanted to finish that statement. It was morbid, but in a way exactly what she didn't know she had wanted until now. A way to know who her friend really was. "Thank you."
"I had time, and her memories took a few days to fade." Hiccup admitted. "I'd have written from the lives of the other dragons I accidentally took from Vithvarandi, but only Stormfly's memories remained at all after I had Beryl get rid of the other bodies. Probably because I had been forced to use hers before, and actually saw them beforehand."
Astrid wasn't sure what he meant, but there was logic behind his explanation, so she didn't question it.
"So there's that." Hiccup absently counted off on his fingers. "Spark wanted to see Berk, I had news and books to deliver... I think that's it."
Astrid sighed, her mood dropping like a rock. "So you're leaving. Again." It was no surprise, not really, and he could never have remained here, but it still hurt a little.
"Looks like. There just isn't a place for us here." Hiccup looked over at Beryl. "And besides, I have one more promise to keep."
"Hiccup, what happened?" Astrid spoke what had been bothering her, the last year. "Everything seemed fine, the future was pretty well set, and then it all went to Hel."
"I wish I knew." Hiccup chuckled darkly. "We all had our little innocent hopes. Stoick wanted me to be chief someday, I wanted to better understand Beryl, to fit into the new world I'd accidentally created. Beryl, he was happy, or would be if I would stop being in danger all the time. Such innocent hopes, all in all."
"And..."
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be." Hiccup suggested. "Reality is, well, twisted. That's the best way I can think of to describe this. The world is not a perfect place, and we're all left to figure out how to be happy with it."
"Have you?" Astrid asked carefully.
"Yes, I think so." Hiccup replied. "Not entirely happy. But as close as someone with a past like mine can get. Have you?"
"I'm getting there," Astrid admitted. "As you said, it's not perfect."
"It never is. It's funny, really." Hiccup mused. "I have everything I could have asked for. I can understand dragons, turn into a Night Fury at will. But the tradeoff..."
"Losing your father, your tribe?"
"That. But there's something more. I lost Flint, long before this started. Living with that is the price."
"Uh... you lost me there," Astrid admitted. Who was Flint?
Hiccup blushed. "Oh, right. Yeah, you wouldn't really know about that. Eh, you'll figure it out. It's in the book, the one about Ember." He seemed a bit uncomfortable.
"Right. Ember was the orange Night Fury, right?" Astrid struggled to recall that night. "The one..."
"It's hard to explain. But I am Ember, now." Hiccup said, running a hand through his hair. "His memories are mine, mine are his. We merged, somewhat. So everything in that book... it happened to me, was me."
"Hiccup... I'm not going to question that." Astrid shrugged, her cloak rippling in the light breeze. "Thor knows I don't understand what happened to you. Live a nice life, I guess."
"And you, Astrid." Hiccup saluted her mockingly. "Chief Astrid. Wait, did they give you a title?"
"Yes. Astrid the Steadfast." That had involved a standoff with one of the more hostile tribes of the archipelago, but the full story was a long one, one Hiccup didn't need to know. It had been back when she was still new at everything chiefing entailed, and she may have gone a bit overboard. It was a bit embarrassing, even if she had gotten a title out of it.
"It suits you." Hiccup eyed her mockingly, his expression light. "Such the image of a Viking chief. You need to gain a few hundred pounds for it to be accurate. And maybe a beard."
"And there's the old Hiccup sarcasm. I was beginning to wonder where that had gone."
Hiccup smiled and responded seriously. "Actually, that's Ember's influence. I don't feel the need to cover discomfort with sarcasm. Now it's just for fun."
"You're serious." Astrid eyed Hiccup, searching for some physical sign that he had changed. "What's that like?"
"Indescribable. Even Vithvarandi didn't get it. Of course, her two personalities fought each other, and one was apparently subjugated and locked away by the other. So she wasn't exactly in a position to understand."
"Why am I not surprised you at some point tried to describe it to her?"
"At the time, fighting wasn't an option." Hiccup defended himself, waving his hands for emphasis. "If I had attacked, people would have died. Besides, she wanted to talk first, in some half-planned attempt to get me to stop hunting her."
"Clearly, it didn't work."
"Yeah, clearly." Hiccup turned. "Have a nice life, Astrid. Berk is the future, of that I'm sure. Make it a good one."
"What will you do now?" Astrid asked. Really, she was curious.
"I have one last promise to keep." Hiccup said quietly. "And a lot of lost time to make up for. Berk is the future. We'll just fade into the past. After everything that's happened, I think the three of us deserve some peace."
"You do." Astrid agreed. "Goodbye, Hiccup."
"Goodbye, Astrid." Hiccup smiled sadly. Then he held his hands out, the blue flames she remembered from long ago flooding from his palms. After a moment the orange Fury she remembered stood in his place, far more scarred than before, but with eyes that were bright and alert.
The three Night Furies bounded into the sky, soaring, and after they had gained some height, flipping, tagging each other with their wings. They flew away from Berk, their game carrying them fast and far.
Astrid watched until they were two dark specks and one bright in the distance. Then she turned and began the long walk back to the village. She didn't mind that. It gave her time to think, time to consider what to tell everyone else.
By the time she reached the village proper, she knew what to do. However, Fishlegs and Gobber found her first. Fishlegs looked crestfallen, and Gobber was smirking knowingly.
"You were right, Gobber," Astrid confirmed. "I didn't need a translator."
"Astrid, what happened?!" Fishlegs gasped. "I keep hearing about a golden Night Fury from the dragons, and I can't find him!"
"It's too late Fishlegs, they're gone. He was just passing through." Astrid didn't like the disappointed look on Fishlegs' face, so she handed him the book titled 'Ember'. "But he left a few things for us. That one's for the village."
"What is it?" Fishlegs had a look of concentration on his face. "Astrid, there's clearly more to this. Dragons don't deliver books." His face lit up, a look Astrid knew as inspiration striking.
"Hold that thought, Fishlegs." Astrid grinned. "This stays between us three, but the golden Night Fury was here with two others. They brought news. Vithvarandi is dead."
"I knew he'd do it eventually." Gobber asserted. "But they're gone?"
"He didn't seem to want to stay long," Astrid said. "They flew off together. Three..."
Wait...
"Oh, and apparently Toothless regrew his tailfin at some point. I just realized that." How had she missed that?
After that, they went back to business as usual. Fishlegs read the book of Ember, and then put it into the Great Hall, for any to look at.
That night, after a hard day of chiefing, Astrid sat down and contemplated the unadorned cover of her friend's life. She would read it. But for the moment, she was content to sit and remember one long gone. Nostalgia was not something she as a Viking in the prime of her life should be feeling, but it was there nonetheless.
She really did hope Hiccup and Toothless had good lives. They deserved that much. She opened the book and began to read. To take one final look at her long-gone friend.
Author's Note: And thus ends Innocent Hopes, Twisted Realities. A strange combination of horror, psychology, and adventure, with a tinge of family thrown in. It actually isn't as horror-centric as I had originally envisioned, though the early chapters more than deserve the title. Dark, yes, but horror? Not so much, in the later chapters. I hope you as readers enjoyed it anyway, not too disappointed in the latter half of the book. Anyway, this is how it ends.
Or, this is how it would end, if I was done with this universe. But I'm not. The epilogue will come on Thursday, and the final chapter, a little bonus, on Saturday, the same day the prologue of When Nothing Remains posts. This story is not yet over, not by a long shot.
Oh, and this seems like a good time to thank toothlessgolfer, the beta-reader for this series. He's been a great help in many ways, and has definitely increased the quality of both this and the sequel immensely.