First light brought with it an unwelcome chill the following morning. Thick banks of grey cloud lurked as a testament to the hellish night before, coating the island with a fresh sense of misery that came with the passing of every summer. Puddles had formed around the base of every soaked trunk and bush. The path was muddier than usual, and at time it felt like he was wading through a bog rather than walking through the forest. Those trees that had survived the terrifying force of the wind stooped low, bending under the weight of a thousand tiny pockets of water trapped in the leaves. A good number of heavy, fat drops fell on Hiccup's head and neck, freezing in the cool morning air as he made his way back from the cove.

After waiting out the worst of the storm, they both decided it would be best if Astrid returned to her new home, in order to avoid certain capture. There was no real way to hide the most wanted beast in Berk inside the house of the chief. It was just good common sense to keep his best friend away from perhaps the most infamous dragon-slaying tribe in History, especially when that friend was the most highly sought after dragon in the Archipelago. Sneaking her out of the village after one of the worst storms of the year had been fairly easy. What came next would be the hardest part of all, but it was also the most essential to their plan.

Hiccup would have to speak to his father, Stoick the Vast.

The time had come for him to know what was going on, why his son had been running off to the forest every day and what really happened to Astrid. Whatever came next, they would need the help and support of the entire tribe, or at least the support of Stoick, who could force them to co-operate. The future of Berk depended on Hiccup being able to convince the chief that Astrid was a friend.

She had told him everything the night before, as they sat huddled together in the tiny room, trying to warm up and dry off as nature continued its merciless assault on their forsaken island. It would have been ironic to have died of exposure to the elements, having just survived an aerial battle between two extremely angry and extremely powerful dragons. Hiccup had witnessed the entire meeting, after all.

He had been totally unable to interpret what the other Night Fury – a male, Astrid had told him – had been saying. His meaning, however, was fairly obvious, considering how Astrid had responded, from the initial anger to the fear and trauma as they fled the collapsing rock. Some of the things the Night Fury had said, it was astonishing. Astrid had been able to understand him, clear as she could understand Hiccup, when he threatened to feed him to her, her only friend in the world, and carry her back to 'the nest' for mating rites. No wonder she was traumatised. Transforming into a creature that you've been raised from birth to hate is bad enough, but this… It was barbaric.

But that wasn't all. According to Astrid's translation, the Night Fury had threatened to destroy Berk utterly. Apparently, the entire nest of dragons would attack together to remove the Viking menace once and for all. The 'Mother' had willed it. Recently, the dragon attacks had been getting lighter and lighter, and the Night Fury hadn't been spotted for weeks. It was possible, unlikely as it was, that the dragons were intelligent enough to form a strategy. They could have been building up, consolidating their forces for a final, devastating attack.

For all of Berk's dragon-fighting ability, Hiccup doubted that they would survive if the entire race of hellish beasts descended upon them in a single, bloody strike. Dragons were not like Vikings. They were not tied to the land through farming and housing. They did not care about the seasons, the harvest or the Gods. They could cross in hours great seas that could take days for a longboat to sail, even in the best wind conditions. They were airborne spectres of death, whose only purpose on the Earth was to attack, rob and kill his people.

The only thing that had kept the Village standing so long was humanity's superior intelligence. A Monstrous Nightmare could easily best a Viking in solo combat, but add in armour, a shield, a tough steel sword or axe, and a bottle of his or her favourite mead, and the battle suddenly became much less one-sided. Dragons, rarely attacked with a complex plan or strategy, preferring to cause as much random chaos and damage as possible, and taking advantage of whatever opportunities presented themselves to carry off food. It was fairly easy for a lone creature to get separated from the pack and surrounded by Berk warriors. A few burley Vikings, an everyday fishing net, and a quick knock to the head with a hefty war-hammer, and there would be one more dragon in the arena for training. No matter how many times the beasts came to pillage and steal, they were always out-thought and out-manoeuvred. The combination and effective use of; catapults, nets and solid troop formations, meant that the dragons often left with more casualties per raid than their 'inferior' prey.

That was, until something had started destroying the catapults and defensive towers, and breaking up the ordered formations with its piercing scream. The Night Fury didn't come on every raid, but when it did, there was a marked difference in the dragon's behaviour. It only came on black moonless nights, in the small hours before dawn, much later than the typical raids. On those dreaded nights, the watch was doubled, and beacons were prepared to light up the sky at a moment's notice, but preparation could only take them so far. Under the direction of the Night Fury, the devils would sneak into the village in dead silence, hugging the shadows and avoiding the sky. They would quickly steal as much food as possible, before the alarm was inevitably raised.

At that point, dragons would explode from their hiding places, teeth and claws bared, jets of flame tearing through the closely packed wooden structures. The inhabitants of Berk would awake to find giant, fire breathing lizards scattered throughout the Village, hard at work destroying their homes. Most of the food would have already been taken, so those that remained were entirely focused on spilling blood. It would all happen so quickly. There was no time to put on full battle gear or heavy armour, and weapons were handed out indiscriminately at the forge and armoury. Vikings could be burned in their beds if they were not fast enough. But the as battle got underway, the dragons would inevitably find themselves overpowered in the brutal, close quarter combat amongst the streets and houses. For both sides was a case of fight or die.

That was when the Night Fury would intervene personally. All those who heard the signature scream of Lightning and Death itself would be sent fleeing or hiding beneath their shields. It covered the retreat of its flock, breaking up any large groups of warriors that had quickly assembled in the panic, and tearing down the catapult towers that would have decimated the mass of slowly retreating dragons, laden with stolen food. It was not until the first light of dawn overcame the late night void of darkness that the demon retreated to its lair, its cover finally gone.

It was for that reason that Hiccup feared the male Night Fury's threat. It had always attacked strategically, hitting targets of high importance at crucial times during the fight. It could organise and conduct attacks like no other species they knew of, and from how Astrid described the way it had communicated, it sounded fairly intelligent, sentient even. If that Night Fury had access to an entire nestful of dragons, then it would be the end of days for Berk and her people. It had the tactical knowledge and the devastating power to ruin them, and for all Hiccup knew, it was already on its way.

So he had to tell his father, no matter how dangerous it was. Hiccup had knowledge that was vital to the survival of their very way of life, and even Astrid agreed that Stoick needed to know, no matter how difficult the fallout would be. He would find out about Astrid eventually, so it was probably better that Hiccup told him first, clearly and honestly, and just preyed that he would allow the former Viking to live long enough to explain herself.

Hiccup patted a small pouch on his belt, taking comfort from the rustling within. He had thought of a few ways to convince his father that he secretly befriended a dragon, and cold, hard evidence was sure to have an impact. It was going to take a lot of acting, convincing and talking to make his father believe him, and talking to people just so happened to be one his worst skills, along with dragon-slaying and sheep-toss. Hiccup took a deep breath, preparing for what was certainly going to be one off the most difficult conversations of his short life.

He emerged on the outskirts of the village, few others had risen this early, and it was relatively quiet as he slipped through the streets and between the houses. Normally, Stoick would have been up by now, but he always slept well during and after heavy storms. Maybe it was the reduced risk of a dragon attack that allowed his unstoppable father to have a lie in. As it happened, Hiccup caught him just as he was leaving the house for his usual chiefly business. Plucking up his courage, he cleared his throat and spoke with a loud clear voice that couldn't be argued with or contradicted. In a way, it was a pale imitation of the man himself, as Hiccup had witnessed countless occasions when Stoick had put the leader of a lesser tribe in their place, simply through his tone of voice.

"Dad, I need to talk to you. I mean really, need to talk to you."

His father was taken aback slightly, as if he could hardly recognise his own son. Certainly, he didn't expect to see him right outside their house this early in the morning, and he had never been so eager to have a conversation before. The last time they had had meaningful interaction was when his father 'convinced' Hiccup to enrol in Dragon training.

"I… Yes. Of course son. What did you want to talk about?"

"It's probably best that we talk inside. This is kind of important." Hiccup glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see somebody following and eavesdropping on his meeting. Stoick frowned. Clearly this was something serious if it couldn't be said out in public, where no one would likely listen to Hiccup anyway. Wordlessly, he opened the door, and gestured inside.

The floorboards creaked as Stoick followed his son into the pantry, watching carefully as he unslung a small bag from his belt and laid a thin but worn leather book on the table. The boy struggled with a flint to light a small lamp, his hands visibly shaking as the sparks missed their mark again and again. After an unbearably long time under his father's crushing gaze, the lamp slowly began to glow, the oil soaked wick coughing into life. Stoick leaned heavily on the sturdy oak wood table.

"Now son, what is it you want to talk about. Make it quick because I-"

"Okay dad, please listen to me. What I am going to tell you, you will not believe. It will go against all logic and reason, but please hear me out. No matter how insane it sounds, just give me a chance to prove it first."

Stoick was very interested now. Whatever the boy was going to say, he had never spoken with this much conviction before in his entire life, at least to him. He could tell that this was important, whatever it was.

"Go ahead, I won't stop you."

"Thanks. It's about Astrid, and more specifically, the Night Fury that carried her of"

"Yes, a terrible thing, and for one so young. That Devil will have hell to pay when we finally track it down. I feel for her family the most, you can never truly get over the loss of a loved one…" Memories flashed through the chief's head. Fire, screaming and the face of his wife, permanently burned into his memory.

"What if I told you that Astrid didn't die that day?"

"Hiccup, is Astrid still alive? It is very important that you tell me right now if you know where she is."

"Yeah, see… This is where it gets kind of difficult. It turns out that Night Furies actually have… powers." Stoick raised an eyebrow, but allowed the boy to continue with his story.

"Astrid didn't die, she was… twisted. Transformed, into another Night Fury."

"What in the name of-"

"Stoick was cut short as Hiccup poured the contents of the bag into a pile on the table. They caught the light of the lamp, glistening in the most bizarre and unsettling way. Stoick's eyes were drawn to their obscure beauty. He became immersed in their deep black and smooth texture, unable to look away. For the first time in many, years, Stoick the Vast found himself speechless.

Hiccup didn't need to say anything, the Night Fury scales spoke for themselves.

"But Hiccup, my son. How in Thor's name did you get these?"

"Like I said, Astrid was turned into a Night Fury." Hiccup opened up the book and turned it upside down to show his father. He flicked through the pages, each one covered with immaculately illustrations of the World's most elusive dragon. It was overwhelming. Stoick bellowed out his deep laugh, but it was painfully obvious that it was forced.

"Son, do you really expect me to believe… all this?" He asked hesitantly, gesturing vaguely to the table and all of Hiccup.

"DAD! Look at the evidence. This is real, and we need your help. For once in your life would you please listen to me?!"

He looked deep into his son's eyes. There was desperation, and not a trace of his typical sarcasm and humour. Whatever the case, Hiccup truly believed his story, and it was his duty as a father to at least investigate his claims. Besides, the evidence that Hiccup had gathered was substantial. He would never have become chief through lack of intelligence, and the physical proof on the table in front of him appealed to his rational side. There was a very real possibility that his son was telling the truth, and that the village was facing a monster that they had severely underestimated, except now there were two. His face hardened.

"Son, if what you say is true, then we have a problem. Now there is another Night Fury we have to kill."

"WHAT! No, you don't understand, it's still Astrid inside. We've communicated with each other. She's not dangerous!"

"You tried to talk to a Night Fury. Are you INSANE Hiccup! Do you have any idea how dangerous they are, how much damage they have caused?"

"She is not a dragon. She's still one of us, inside, where it matters. Please, let me show you."

Stoick seemed to calm slightly at his son's request. Stoick knew he should be listening to Hiccup more. He had found the scales and drawnt he pictures, after all. He picked up the book, and opened it at a random page. He stared for a long time in silence. A Night Fury was pawing at the air in front of its nose, trying to dislodge some kind of bug that had made its home on top of the scaly snout. The detail was superb, and the dragon, for all the stories and legends, looked relatively harmless. Hiccup was waiting anxiously, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table, waiting for a decision to be made. Stoick carefully closed the book, and laid it down besides the glistening scales. He was taking his time, gathering his thoughts and coming to conclusions. Making plans and considering his options. The grey light of dawn had surrendered to the sunlight that now streamed in through the windows and cracks in the wooden walls. The chief spoke slowly, in a clear, low voice.

"What do you mean show me?

Astrid had become very familiar with the sound of approaching Vikings over her last few weeks of imprisonment. The sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping could often be heard behind her as the noise bounced and echoed off the cliffs. Hiccup was a lot more silent when he came alone, having found the shortest and easiest route weeks ago. Most visits, the only thing that gave him away was the occasional curse or plea to the Gods as he ran into another tree, was hit by a branch, or tripped over, repeatedly.

This time, however, he was making as much noise as possible, cutting straight through the undergrowth. As they had agreed beforehand, he was not alone.

It was vital to her continued survival that the chief knew about her condition. She had nowhere else to live, and she was bound to be discovered eventually, maybe even by her father, who would kill her on sight. She closed her eyes and forced those thoughts out of her mind, focusing on the task at hand. Initially, she had refused Hiccup's insane plan to go right up and tell him, but the more she thought about it, the more appealing it became. It was better that they convince Stoick truthfully and honestly, and on their terms, before her head was mounted above the great hall as the ultimate symbol of Berk's hatred for her race.

If Hiccup could get his father on board, it might hold the rest of the village back from killing her, long enough to defeat the looming threat of the dragons at least. Maybe, if she was lucky, people would believe that it was still her inside, and not some hideous, heartless beast responsible for countless tragedies.

She would have to look as meek and as unthreatening as possible to improve their chances of success, which was difficult considering what she was. Every aspect of her body was honed towards flight or death, often both at the same time. She was terrifying to behold, with her razor sharp claws and demonic colouration. There was a reason the tribe often referred to her kind as 'Devil'. She experimented with different positions, sitting, lying, standing, even hanging.

In the end, she settled with a fairly neutral stance, standing on all fours, slightly slumped. Her tail was curled up around one side, like she was about to start fanning herself with her remaining fin. She made an effort to keep lower to the ground than a grown man, and make her eyes as round and innocent as possible. She held the position as her two guests picked their way down the path in the cliffs, one much lighter and sure-footed than the other. The chief was the first to emerge from the small opening, shielding his eyes against the unfortunately placed sun.

"Well Hiccup, you've brought me all the way out here. Now tell me where you found this 'Astrid' Night Fury".

Astrid was sat stock still in the centre of the cove, watching keenly as Hiccup emerged from the rocks in his father's large shadow.

"Dad, she's right there." Hiccup pointed directly at Astrid, who had subconsciously pressed herself closer to the ground in the presence of her former chief.

Stoick had unsheathed his sword before the sentence was finished. An iron grip on his son's shoulders kept him from interfering as he bore into Astrid with the most vicious glare she had ever seen. She suddenly felt that this might not have been the greatest idea they had ever come up with. Perhaps the most disturbing thing, was that unlike every other living thing she encountered, his scent had not even the slightest hint of fear.

"So you're the demon that took the Hofferson girl?" He spat, barely able to contain a lifetime full of unrestrained hatred. Astrid moaned and took a step backwards, slowly shaking her head.

"Dad No! This is Astrid. It's still her inside."

"Prove it. I'd rather not take my chances with one of them."

"What about the harness she's wearing? I would never have been able to fit that onto a wild dragon. It really is her!"

Stoick broke eye contact with the beast and slowly turned, giving it instead to Hiccup. So far he hadn't noticed the leather saddle that was still strapped around the dragon's torso, or the leather tailfin. There was a look of horror mixed with utter confusion. He had probably just exceeded the limits of earth-shattering revelations for a single day.

"Hiccup, you did WHAT?"

"Well, yeah. She couldn't fly and you were away hunting for the nest, so I just…"

"That is a DRAGON Hiccup! You are lucky to be alive you stubborn fool. Now come back here, we are leaving. NOW!"

Hiccup had taken a few steps forward, putting him just out of the reach of his father. He slowly walked backwards towards her, pleading with his father as he did.

"Dad, I don't know how else to convince you, just let me demonstrate. For once in your life could you please just listen to me?"

Hiccup continued to step backwards, even as his father stood, white faced, feet rooted to the spot. Out of shock or disbelief, Astrid couldn't tell. Hiccup held his hand out towards her, and made a big show of looking away, his eyes shut tight. He was putting his life in her hands, a display of absolute trust and devotion. She knew what she had to do. She edged forward, incredibly slowly, so as not to provoke the now sweating chief, who was watching his only son like a hawk.

Gently, she pressed her muzzle up against his palm, letting it rest in between her nostrils. All she could smell was Hiccup, and a deep sense of calm washed over her. A musical burble escaped her throat, causing Hiccup to laugh and Stoick to raise his sword. She moved to embrace him further, stretching out her wings for a full dragon-hug. Hiccup leant into her, momentarily forgetting his father's burning hatred.

For a big man, Stoick could move incredibly fast. By the time Astrid registered the attack, the sword was humming through the air, looking to tear through her neck. The blade cut deep and fast, blood pouring from the wound. The dragon screamed in pain, her voice cracking as she reeled back.

"NO!"

Astrid had barely enough time to pull her head back and out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the blow that would have ripped through her arteries and windpipe. As it happened, the sword had just missed her neck, instead embedding itself in her right claw. As Stoick tugged it free from the mangled fleshand scale, her draconic instincts took over. Hiccup was knocked to the ground as she reared up, roaring a challenge at the Viking chief.

Her hind legs propelled her forward at lightning speed. The impact was marked with a dull smack, as Stoick was hit with the full force of a fast, heavy, and extremely angry dragon. The sword was savagely torn from his grasp as he hit the ground hard, Astrid's full weight pinning him down. He might have been a legendary dragon slayer, but there was nothing alive that could compete with an enraged Night Fury.

She held him in place with her paws, blood from her mutilated claw spurting all over his face, matching the red mist that had descended over Astrid's eyes. Her pupils were slit, her teeth fully unsheathed. She could kill the human in any number of ways, and there was absolutely nothing, that he could do about it. A terrifying grin spread across her mouth. This was what it was like to be predator, an invincible hunter with no equal. She was the shadow of death itself, and she would give her prey all that it deserved. She felt no remorse, no hatred for what she was and what she was about to do. There was only her, the victor, and him, the victim. This is what it was to be a dragon!

She lifted up her head, a high-pitched whine building up in the back of her throat as fire flowed through her veins. She could feel the raw power building up inside her, waiting to be unleashed. Her mouth began to glow blue. She was seconds away from obliterating the Viking, but a small voice pulled her back from the abyss.

"Astrid NO!"

She visibly deflated, swallowing back the flames that had built up deep within her. Her eyes and ears dropped, her teeth disappearing and her claws retracting. The tension in her body disappeared as she took her weight off the chief's enormous chest. She looked down guiltily, at the blood-soaked, white-faced father beneath her. She gurgled a tortured and hasty apology before stepping back, leaving him shell-shocked on the grass. She stumbled away, before collapsing herself, curling up into a ball and licking her wounds.

It had happened so fast, Stoick could hardly register what had just happened. One moment he was bringing his sword down on the head of the creature that was attacking his boy. The next, he was slowly being crushed, his last sight a hellish pair of burning eyes, and the faint glow of lighting from within the beast's mouth.

His entire world view was turned on his head, as he realised that he had just been spared from death by a dragon.

He slowly propped himself up, wiping the blood from his face. The Night Fury that he had attacked had covered itself up with its wings, shutting itself out from the world. Hiccup was looking at him, holding his breath as if expecting to suddenly attack again. Stoick looked at his hand, and then at the dragon, and then at his hand again. It could have just as easily been his blood running down his fingers, but by some miracle, it was not. His old father had taught him never to ignore a sign from the Gods, even though they spoke in mysterious ways. For whatever reason, he had been given a second chance.

Maybe, just maybe, this really was the Hofferson girl, and he had just stuck a sword in her… talons? Nobody knew anything about Night Furies, maybe they were capable of transforming Vikings into their own kind. For what sick, twisted reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that dragons always went for the kill, and that this one hadn't, and that could only mean one thing.

"Astrid? Astrid Hofferson?"

The scaly ball stirred, a faint warbling could be heard from within. It unfolded itself to reveal a terrified, miserable creature, eyes glazed over, with specks of blood all over her face. It, no she, was shaking from shock and blood loss, but at least the bleeding itself had stopped. She tried to take a forward, but collapsed to the side as she tied to put weight on her injured limb. His son rushed to her side, trying to somehow help her up again. Failing that, he settled for holding her limp and heavy head in his arms. The dragon's eyes fluttered, meeting Hiccup's before they slid closed, and Astrid passed into unconsciousness. Hiccup pressed his head against hers and moaned.

There was a moment of silence, in which neither father no son was willing to say the first word. Stoick stood, rooted to the spot, watching as Hiccup slowly lowed the sleek black head to the ground. There could be no doubt about it now, this dragon was clearly the daughter of one of his most trusted advisors, clearly the blond maiden who had been considered the best in her generation. There was no other explanation for Hiccup's actions, the harness on her back, or the fact that she hadn't killed the man who had just attacked her. It was turning out to be one of the most difficult days as Chief of Berk that he had ever had. To his surprise, it was Hiccup who spoke first.

"You see dad? You see?" There were tears in his eyes as he turned to face his father, a comforting hand never moving from its position on top of her head.

"You were right son. I… I'm sorry."

"Why do you never listen to me?" Hiccup choked. "The one time in my life that I needed you to. If you hadn't… maybe she… maybe…"

"She's not going to die Hiccup. We'll make sure of that." Stoick didn't have the heart to argue with Hiccup, or defend himself. He deserved it, and his son was right after all.

"But why… how can you…?"

"Run back to the village Hiccup, and get Gobber. Tell him to bring his cart, and don't talk to anyone else, understand?"

"The Village? But what about…?"

"Just go, son. Whatever happens, I'll protect her."

"What do I tell Gobber?"

Stoick paused, considering the question. How was he supposed to explain the situation that they found themselves in? How could he possibly convince anyone in the village that one of their own had been transformed into their worst enemy, but was still a Viking on the inside? It was a mess. There was only one thing he could say for sure.

"Tell him Astrid Hofferson is coming home."