After an indeterminable amount of time, the dragon finally drifted off to sleep, and he dreamed of lights and universes and starry skies, and of moments that could have gone differently...
...
When the night fury awoke, he was aware almost immediately of a sort of discontentment in the air. Picking himself off the ground and shaking out his wings, he looked around and noticed that there were more dragons than usual inside the nest. Most mornings, nearly everyone was out looking for food or getting a stimulating flight in. This morning, however, the nest was practically full.
"I hate stormy days," he heard a passing Nightmare complain, and just like that, the night fury's worries were eased. Though the blanket of negativity still laid stiffly on the atmosphere, there was nothing really wrong - nothing serious, at least. Most dragons simply did not like to fly in storms. It was dangerous, stressful, and a lot of hard work.
But the night fury was not like most dragons. Without a second's hesitation, the black dragon spread his wings and darted through the nearest opening. The rocky red world of the nest fell away behind him, and he entered now a world of swirling, roiling gray. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance. The heavy storm clouds greatly decreased the dragon's visibility, but the night fury hummed happily anyway. Stormy weather meant there were much less dragons out flying; he would have the skies almost completely to himself. And even better, he realized, the storm would block viking sight lines, too, meaning he didn't need to wait until nightfall to head to Berk. He was getting an early lesson today. So with a light heart, the dragon flapped his wings and doubled his speed, rocketing toward the little human isle he had come to rather enjoy.
...
After Gothi erased her drawings for the day, the rain began to fall. It fell lightly at first, then with steadily-increasing speed. The rain itself was not a problem, but the raging lightning and bullying winds that would soon follow were not exactly ideal flying conditions. The night fury growled quietly, torn. The swirling clouds above were arguing quite plainly for leaving; the dragon should fly home, and quickly, before the storm could delay him. But the night fury's curiosity was arguing for a different plan of action. The memory of the two vikings he had heard that night, the shock and wonderment at hearing one of them say Hiccup's name, pulled at him. The storm was coming, yes, but the dragon was faster. He could fly low to the village and listen for any talk about Hiccup. If he heard anything, he could listen and be off. Just fly a bit faster than normal and he should be able to beat the worst part of the storm with a little time to spare. It was a tempting idea.
Thunder rumbled, closer than before, and Toothless growled once again. He needed to make a choice, and soon. Play it safe, or take a chance? The rows of viking houses stretched out below him, their rooftops only just visible in the obscuring mist. He could come back, he reasoned. Look for Hiccup another time. Ah, but time - that was another issue. The countdown to the supposed end of the world ticked on relentlessly, and the night fury wondered, if he missed out on this opportunity, was he certain he would get another? No, he realized. He wasn't. If this was only shot, he was going to take it. Besides, he thought as he dipped down to fly low to the ground, safety is overrated.
Zipping by houses in a random, unorganized manner, the black dragon listened intently to the vikings inside. Some houses were quiet. In others, he could hear voices - snippets of conversation. But nobody mentioned Hiccup, and none sounded like the ones he had heard discussing Hiccup earlier. Turning right arbitrarily and swooping up a small hill, the night fury wondered if it was time to give up and turn home. The rain had begun to fall with a little more force, and now the wind was starting to kick up. The clouds above had darkened to make night approach faster. The weather would be dangerous soon. With a sigh, the night fury turned and began to head back down the hill to the sound of the reverberating thunder, closer still. But as the sound faded into echoes, a voice cut clearly through the storm.
"What are you going to do?" it asked, dripping with resignation but laced with exasperation. The night fury stopped mid-air, so utterly shocked he nearly fell to the ground. Heart pounding, the dragon landed immediately and remained still, ears straining. That voice. He knew that voice.
"You already know what we're going to do, Hiccup," a second voice responded wearily. Blood began to pound fiercely through the night fury's veins, his own excitement threatening to drown out the conversation. That first voice he heard - it was Hiccup's voice. And the second voice, he realized, was one of the ones he had heard that other night. "We're going after the nest," the second voice continued. "And we'll keep going after it until we find it." The man's tone was hard, unyielding.
"Do... do you think you will find it?" Hiccup asked the question timidly, obviously trying to be non-confrontational, but the tone still held the faintest hint of doubt and accusation. It was odd, the night fury noted immediately. The Hiccup he knew spoke every word with the utmost assurance. Where was that confidence now?
"We will," the other viking replied angrily, voice strong with unfettered passion. "The blood will not stop until this war does, so we are going to end it. Not them. Us." The war. Them. Us. The night fury realized, rather belatedly perhaps, that they were discussing the war between the vikings and the dragons. How strange to hear it from this perspective. The Red Death called it a war between good and evil. But now, after everything... Now the night fury was not so sure. This viking spoke of the blood the war had brought, and he was right - of course he was. There had been heavy losses on both sides. The Red Death would have them think that the vikings wanted this war - that it was part of their evil, violent ways. The humans enjoyed killing, she had often told them. But this... This didn't sound like that. In fact, from the sound of things, the people of Berk wanted this war over. Could it be that the vikings actually wanted peace?
The first visible bolt of lightning streaked across the sky in a web of fearful force, and the resulting crack and rumble of thunder brought the night fury out of his thoughts. The foundation of everything he thought he knew about the vikings was crumbling where he stood, but the storm reminded him that this was neither the time nor the place to deal with that. Right now, he was looking for Hiccup. And after that, he had to leave.
"...unease among the men," the nameless viking was saying bitterly. The dragon focused intensely on the voice and looked around, trying to determine which house the conversation was being held in. As the man talked, the dragon eliminated houses, hurriedly attempting to narrow it down to only one. "They are greatly discouraged; we haven't been able to locate the nest yet, and we've been searching for years. There are rumors," he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if deciding whether or not to confide in Hiccup. The night fury narrowed it down to three possible houses as the viking started again. "There are rumors that no man can find the dragons' nest." He admitted this with evident bitterness and discouragement. The dragon supposed the man was looking for some sort of encouragement, but Hiccup, it seemed, was inclined to agree with the rumor.
"I'm sure only a dragon can find the dragons' nest," the viking boy said unhelpfully, a note of finality entrenched in his tone. And at that moment, the night fury knew exactly which house it was. There, the house on the hill. With mounting excitement, the dragon swooped over to the tall wooden structure, and carefully peered through the window.
The wooden interior was alit with a soft, warm flickering glow that radiated from a large fireplace against the opposite wall. There was a sturdy wooden table just a short distance from it, and there sat a formidable-looking viking indeed. Seeming as strong and sturdy as the house itself, the viking turned slightly, staring at nothing, lost in thought. But his head was turned at just the right angle so that the night fury could see the viking's face clearly. The man's expression, oddly, was lit - but not by the fire. The dragon recognized the glow of understanding that comes with the beginnings of an idea. It was painted across the viking's face, and his eyes glinted with cunning that made the dragon nervous. But the man's expression was not the only thing that made the dragon nervous, for this man was a recognizable one. He was the viking leader.
Surprised and uncomfortable, the night fury shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked around the room once more, yearning for a glimpse of Hiccup. The dragon wondered if the voice he had heard really was Hiccup, and wondered what Hiccup would look like. Would Hiccup recognize him, know him? Or was the Hiccup he knew really from the future, a different version of the Hiccup he would see now?
But all the questions and thoughts and hopes were drenched with the rain; besides the viking leader, the room was empty. Hiccup, whoever he was and whatever he looked like, had gone. A second bolt of lightning etched itself across the stormy sky, and the closeness of it reminded the dragon that it was definitely time to leave now. Launching himself into the electrified air, he sped off for home, disappointed but also enlightened. He had not gotten to see Hiccup as he had hoped, but he had learned far, far more than he bargained for. What was he to think of vikings now?
Swooping past the last of the viking houses on his way back to the nest, he caught one last snippet of conversation. A viking woman's voice, comforting and kind, saturated with love, floated over to him clearly even through the cacophony of the storm.
"Do not be afraid, child," the woman said softly, her offspring's cries quieting in the background. "The storm is dark, but always passes."
The night fury shot out over the open ocean, Berk disappearing behind him, and he thought, astonished, on the woman's comforting reassurances. The humans were supposed to be evil, according to the Red Death. But everything he had seen from his own experience proved otherwise. Sure, they fought fiercely and violently when the dragons raided them, but how much of that was malice? Weren't they just protecting their own?
Do not be afraid, child. The storm is dark, but always passes.
Conflicted and guilt-ridden, the dragon flew slower, lost in his world-shattering thoughts. Everything we know about you guys, he mused, is wrong.
The twinkling stars began to peek out of the night sky as the dragon left the storm behind. The swirling gray clouds that were once so malevolent were now folding in on themselves, being blown away quietly into nothingness. But there was an odd stirring in the air, and although the storm was clearly receding, the night fury could not shake the feeling that an even bigger storm was only just beginning to brew...