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...
...
It was quiet when he reached the dragons' nest. Landing softly near the entrance, the night fury listened to the soft sounds of sleeping dragons inhaling and exhaling in a slow, relaxed rhythm. The lava beneath them bubbled in the background, a comforting, soothing sound that had often lulled the black dragon into a deep restful sleep. But not tonight.
Tonight, the night fury was wide awake, head filled with new understandings, growing doubts, and paradigm shifts. The Red Death sleeping soundlessly below them all had constantly informed them of the humans' villainy. She had made her case, and the dragons had bought into it almost without question. Any who doubted the violence of the humans soon had their doubts erased as the Red Death sent them on raid after raid, battle after battle. The vikings made weapons out of everything - weapons that they held, weapons that they threw, weapons that were launched impossibly into the sky. Killing seemed to be their only aim, and time after time, dragons were brought down, crashing hard into the dirty earth. And then, the fires of war blazing around them and the ferocious viking faces leering in front of them, there was nothing left to be done. They could only watch, as the humans and their glinting metal weapons tore into them with icy sharpness, unrelenting until the darkness of death blackened their vision and, finally, took their life.
Yes, such cold-hearted murder was villainy indeed. But were the dragons not villains, too? The night fury bowed his head in his terrible epiphany, staring sorrowfully at the rusty rock beneath him, exactly the color of human blood. He knew the answer, of course. Dragons were not free of guilt in this war. The ferocious battles left both sides dirty.
Feeling slightly sick, the night fury turned to stare out at the starry night sky. The air drifting in from outside was cold and clear, refreshing. The dragon closed his eyes and leaned into the breeze, letting it waft around him and chill his scales. He wished it could cleanse him - rid him of his guilt, his sadness, his past deeds. But he doubted now whether anything could redeem him - redeem them. The other dragons were set in their ways, their experiences and the Red Death's conditioning forming a blindfold over their hardened eyes. They would not see the truth so easily, so readily. It would take something big to convince them. The dragon sighed, watching his breath mist up and float away in the cold night air. Changing their ways seemed an impossible feat.
"Hey," said a familiar voice suddenly, quiet and soft and sweet. The night fury turned to see the blue Nadder sitting hesitantly behind him, head tilted in curiosity. "Couldn't sleep either?" she asked kindly.
"No," he told her, matching her quiet tone. A Terror nearby shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake. "Not tonight," the night fury finished. He moved aside, giving the Nadder space to join him in watching the stars. "What about you?" he asked her. "Not tired?"
"Bad dreams," she explained with a small, sad smile. She stared at the stars, too, a look of longing in her eyes. He followed her gaze and watched the distant balls of light burn brightly and easily. It was serene, peaceful. Ah, peace, the night fury thought wistfully. He looked back at the Nadder's longing expression. Maybe they were both searching for the same peace.
"You know," the night fury spoke up with a hesitant grin. "I heard of a very good nightmare cure, and I wanted to try it." He saw the spark of recognition light up in her eyes, immediately followed by the warmth of humor.
"What is it?" she asked, and she smiled - a real, genuine one.
"A flight," he said simply. She laughed softly - a musical sound - and together they took off.
...
The stars seemed closer now. Maybe it was the fact that they were outside, or maybe it was the pleasure of good company, but either way, the stars did seem closer. They glinted with a warm, happy light, and the night fury hummed softly in contentment and peace.
He and the blue Nadder were lying next to each other on a cliff's edge, and had spent the previous hour or so talking lightly and watching the numerous stars. But as the night grew later, the Nadder had finally succumbed to sleep. So the night fury laid there, awake but comfortable, watching the stars with the sound of the Nadder's soft breathing on his right. It was a nice moment.
He turned his head to watch the Nadder's sleeping form, and saw Hiccup, seated cross-legged on the Nadder's other side. Inexplicably, the viking's appearance neither surprised nor startled the dragon, but made him grin happily, a small laugh escaping his throat.
"Hiccup," he greeted quietly, with a small nod.
"Hey," Hiccup responded, and the dragon could hear the grin in the human's voice. Immediately, all the questions the night fury had saved up bubbled quickly to the front of his mind. Part of him didn't want to ask those questions, though. It would ruin the lovely moment, and the answers may be ones he would rather forget. But Hiccup's appearances were becoming few and far between, and the questions were ones he needed answers to. Sighing in resignation, the dragon spoke up.
"Hiccup," he began softly. "Is this... Is this a tangent universe?" The viking boy looked over at him, and the dragon could feel the boy's unseen eyes looking him over in careful calculation.
"The end of the world approaches fast," he said finally, sadness evident in his tone. The dragon's heart dropped. If the end of the world - the collapse of the universe - was indeed coming, then this was a tangent universe, and its time was running out. The countdown ticked away in the back of the dragon's mind.
"But then how do we stop it?" he asked frantically, urgently. "There has to be a way." But the viking had turned to gaze at the stars once more, and no answer was forthcoming.
"The vikings, then," the dragon began again, trying to remain undeterred. "The humans - they're not evil, are they? They're not what we thought they were." It was more of a statement than a question, but Hiccup nodded anyway.
"The Red Death has blinded you," Hiccup said sadly, and the night fury frowned. The way Hiccup talked, it seemed as if the Red Death was to blame. But had she done it on purpose? Wasn't she just as confused and misguided as the rest of them? But suddenly he remembered the strange, cold look he had seen on her, the night all this strangeness had begun. Before, he had trusted her utterly, believed her just as all the other dragons had. But now he had his doubts. And it was terrifying.
Wanting to think of anything else, the night fury began to study Hiccup. He looked no different than all the previous times he had seen him; he wore the same obscuring cloak, and held the same lethal-looking dagger that forever dripped red with blood. He was small, but sure. And as always, he was utterly, completely hidden. The dragon frowned. Having missed the opportunity to see Hiccup in Berk, and having always seen Hiccup only in his cloak, the dragon burned with a desire to see what his human friend truly looked like. He had wondered about it, guessed at it, dreamt of it. But he wanted to know. Scowling in annoyance at the black fabric that covered Hiccup's body, the dragon spoke up.
"Why do you wear that stupid man suit?" he wondered, glaring at the black human cloak. But Hiccup's answer was nothing he expected.
"Why do you wear that stupid dragon suit?" Hiccup rejoined, without any real heat. It was a strange question; the night fury looked like a dragon because he was a dragon. Unless, a small voice in the back of his mind spoke up, you are more than just a dragon. Maybe there is more to you than you realize. Maybe you can accomplish things you never thought possible... And there it was again. That sudden feeling of power and potential, welling up within him like lava within a volcano.
I can do anything, Hiccup had said before. And so can you.
Once again, the night fury pushed the sense of extraordinary power back, until it receded once more into nothingness. This was madness, surely. Unsettled, the night fury focused again on Hiccup's black cloak. He wanted to see Hiccup - really see him. He wanted to know the viking beneath the cloak. His curiosity burned at his insides until he finally blurted:
"Take it off." The viking turned to look at him, and the night fury bowed his head in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to sound so demanding. "Please," he added, more politely. "I want to see you," he explained earnestly.
"No, you don't," Hiccup said shortly. He sounded as sure of himself as ever.
"I do," the night fury insisted, and this time he was surer. A long moment of silence passed, and Hiccup did not deign to argue back. But just when the night fury started to think that Hiccup might just ignore his request outright, the viking stood. Curious and uncertain, the night fury stood too, and turned to get a good look at the cloaked viking boy. Did he stand up to show himself? Or maybe he was leaving now. Hiccup sighed a defeated sigh, and the dragon knew then that he would get his wish. He watched as Hiccup's slender hands moved up and deftly undid the little silver clasp. And in one fluid movement, the cloak fell, in a whisper, to the floor.
The night fury could not help but take several steps back in horror at what had been revealed. There stood a young viking boy, as small and slender as the dragon had suspected. His hair was a reddish-brown, falling into his emerald eyes in places. He wore a green long-sleeved shirt, a fur vest on top of that, and pants and boots. He looked like a normal, if small, viking boy. None of this inspired any horror in the dragon. What did cause fear to turn his veins to ice was the boy's horrible, unforgettable condition.
There, on Hiccup's torso, was an utterly horrendous burn mark. Large and circular and horrible, it ruined his flesh and singed the remaining fabric of his shirt. There were smaller burn marks around it as well, and there was blood. Too much blood. It darkened his sleeves where he had apparently pressed them to his middle, to staunch the bleeding, or cover the wound, or maybe just as an instinctual reaction to the pain - the unendurable agony the injury would have indubitably caused. Hiccup's injuries were awful, the grotesque sight of them burning into the dragon's memory. By all accounts, Hiccup should be dead. Yet there he stood, expression grim, but eyes holding not even the barest hint of pain or discomfort. He watched the dragon's reaction carefully, and then silently bent down, picked up the discarded cloak, and hid himself once more within its folds. He sat down smoothly next to the blue Nadder, and turned to watch the stars yet again.
The night fury, however, did not find it so easy to resume his former position. Questions and thoughts and fear and concern filled the dragon's mind, and he paced for a minute, unsure where to even begin. Are you ok? was one of the questions that came immediately to mind. But obviously, whatever had hurt him before had ceased to bother the young viking. Finally forcing himself to be still, the night fury sat down again next to the still-sleeping blue Nadder. He turned to face Hiccup, not bothering to hide his emotions, and sighed shakily.
"What happened to you?" he asked quietly. Who did this to you? and Why? were his follow-up questions, but unfortunately, Hiccup only shook his head. This, to the night fury's immense disappointment, was a topic the viking would not delve further into. But now the mysterious viking and his bewildering past (or was it future?) took hold of the night fury's mind with an iron grip. Question after question raced through his mind, and the dragon was more eager than ever before to understand this strange, impossible viking.
"Why do they call you Hiccup?" the dragon asked quietly, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Because that's what I am - a hiccup," the boy replied without missing a beat. His voice sounded as sure as it ever had, and it bothered the dragon to no end.
"I don't believe that," the night fury rejoined, his tone ringing with conviction. The viking turned to look at him, study him.
"Well, you're the first," he said. And he lapsed into silence once more. The dragon followed suit, returning to his thoughts. It was truly weird, he realized, how all of this strangeness - this utter madness - had become such a regular part of his life now. He remembered his first electrifying encounter with the young viking as if it had happened yesterday. But it had not. There had been lots of time between then and now - time that they didn't have. But the madness continued on and the countdown never slowed.
"Hiccup," the night fury began again, stifling a long-suffering sigh, "when is this going to stop?" If his question sounded desperate, the viking made no mention.
"You should already know that," Hiccup replied smoothly, continuing to stare at the vast expanse of stars. The dragon frowned at this, but knew better than to press the subject. When Hiccup was cryptic about something, he would not be giving any more details. The dragon resigned himself to contemplative silence when, to his great surprise, Hiccup spoke up.
"There's something I want you to see," he said. Curious, the dragon looked over, but the viking was still staring resolutely at the stars. Taking the hint and following his gaze, the dragon stared at the starry heavens, too.
All of a sudden, a patch of stars seemed to glow brighter and brighter until suddenly, he wasn't looking at the stars, but at a bright ball of light, glowing and pulsating in an ethereal rhythm, and the center of it became clear. But inside, he did not see the night sky behind it. He was seeing something else. Something much less beautiful.
He was looking at the center of the dragons' nest, down where the swirling steam hid the roiling lava beneath. But the nest, for some inexplicable reason, did not look comforting as it normally did. For perhaps the first time ever, the night fury looked, and did not see "home". This was someplace dark, someplace terrible. And something horrific was fast approaching. He could feel it; the tension of it tightened his muscles and held his gaze firmly in place as if by hypnotism. And then, out of the mist - a figure. A dreadfully familiar figure.
In deadly silence, the Red Death rose up out of the steam, her bulk parting it and sending creeping tendrils throughout the red caverns. And although she had indeed done this many times, this image here was not one the night fury had seen. It was nothing any of them had seen. This here was a different side of the Red Death - a side that matched perfectly with her fearful name. This was not a caring, protective, and good dragon queen. This was a monster, terrifying and horrible, rising out of the steam like some creature from Helheim itself. And as the night fury watched, the Red Death opened her enormous jaws, rows of lethal teeth bared with murderous intent. And right then - as the rest of the dragons slept in blissful ignorance, she swallowed a Gronckle whole. With a last sinister grin that chilled the night fury to the core, the image rippled, and then vanished.
Willing himself to remain calm, the night fury got up and paced quickly around the cliffside. The dread was set firmly in his stomach now, the fear holding an icy grip on his heart, and he fought to not be sick right there on the rocks. Evil, evil, evil - that's what the Red Death was. And yet they had never known - had never even suspected. Hiding behind her benevolent facade, manipulating the dragons to wage war against humans who did not deserve it, she had been the one pulling the strings all along. The Red Death was the root of all the evil. Dragons disappearing in the dead of night, dragons being killed by humans, vikings being burned alive by vengeful dragon fire - there had been far too much blood for which the blame could not be placed. But now it could. Now, the night fury knew.
The Red Death was responsible for all the blood. And it was time she paid the price.
Without knowing how he knew, the night fury turned as if on instinct to face Hiccup, waiting for the command the viking would give. Sure enough, the young viking had one at the ready. Nodding at the night fury with a fierce meaningfulness, Hiccup gave the order.
"Show it to the dragons."
The night fury vaulted into the sky with speed he did not know he possessed. Inexplicably clear on what he had to do, the dragon flew furiously toward the nest, black wings beating in the blackest sky, ready to expose the blackest of monsters.