"Dragons always, always, go for the kill."
-Gobber
The sirens sang a chorus song, Hati's hunt of Mani passing high above their island, and dragons descended upon Berk in a rain of fire that burnt away the darkness and lent it wrath.
Hiccup woke with his father, the sound of the gongs long since ingrained into their minds both, and was quick to toss the elder Haddock's helmet over his shoulder in a practiced move ever meant for these occasions. A path, a routine that would have them out of the house the quickest way possible.
With next to no thought he bounded over to the door, a short moment that equaled what took his father to fasten the helmet and armor, walking towards Hiccup and the door. And as the Night Fury prepared his 'fire', so did his dad pick up his greatsword.
A moment passed. Crackle crackle. Another, as the gongs roared and the sound of fire broke across the halls.
Now.
He jumped out an open window, taking short wing as his father slammed open the door.
They roared, blinding beyond any sound, and all fell silent. Dragons shook their heads, humans looked up, and everyone watched as the chief and his heir entered the battle.
Hiccup really did enjoy planning these things. Efficiency, tactics, ways to best beat back the dragons from their home…
It gave him a joy he rarely felt, not even combat able to equal it.
All was silent for a moment, where none dared speak or fight.
Then Hiccup took flight and Stoick swung forward his blade and the battle once more continued. Hiccup lifted into air, letting his father lead the battle on the ground while he would defend the skies and help whenever he could. He watched as his father dealt with some Nightmares and Deadly Nadders, as the dragons close to him flew down near to his tribespeople, preferring the avoidable danger of sttuborn and insane Vikings rather than a Night Fury.
"It's him!" He heard the distant roar. "Stick to the ground!"
Hiccup levelled off.
…
The sounds were distant, the crackles silent, the world…Gone.
…
He watched as dragons fell, as humans were slain. As his father crushed the skull of a large Nadder.
He looked away, for a moment pushing out the unbidden guilt that wracked his mind. He was not hunting them. He was not making mistakes, betraying the trust of his own people. He was defending his home, his people and land.
He was not a traitor. A monster.
...He…
Hiccup took a deep breath, letting loose his nature, his magic, his bloodline. He could feel the taste of his grandfather's might lovely and so beautifully weightless on his tongue. The thunder burning the skies.
He climbed a bit higher, letting the sound of the earth wash out from his mind, and focused.
Here, he was one with the skies.
He breathed.
Crk.
He looked upon the land. The orders his father rang out to the other Hooligans were lost on his ears, but still Hiccup could follow them.
Defend. Defend. Destroy.
He would not forget.
He was, afterall, already in place to defend their home.
The acrid scent of sulfurous burning reached his nose, and his eyes quickly found the source. Two of the hooligans who were supposed to be manning the western catapults defending against a flanking group of Nightmare's and Gronckles.
Crk.
He knew what he had to do. He would blast them to pieces. A short growl was let loose, in tune with the lightning high above, the beauty.
Then he dove. A screech of building up in front of him as, twin cries of godly wrath-
He coughed, and his lightning missed its mark, terror and surprise both consuming him to hear another's fury ring. Hiccup pulled out of his dive so suddenly it felt like it would tear off his wings, levelled off so high, so fast, he was a blur.
But he needed to know. No Night Furies ever raided Berk, never in the nest's flocks. Never since…
Since...
KRYYYYYYYYY-
The western catapults exploded in the light of plasma fire.
Night Fury.
Hiccup snarled, angry beyond words. Night Furies hadn't so directly attacked the village since years before Hiccup was born. Years before he was transformed. And now three of the hooligans had died, because of his hesitance, because of a Night Fury attack. Why now? He could see the silhouette of his opponent in the light of its own fire, burning blue on the black horizon of its massive wings. Why would a Night Fury attack now?!
It was large, enough so that Hiccup was sure he must have been seeing wrong, and faster than Hiccup ever was. He couldn't catch it. Grounding it might work, but Hiccup didn't want to get his tribemates killed for nothing.
…
Killed.
He looked where his blast had landed, turning even as he did for a better angle on where he'd last heard the Night Fury. A house was burning, his blast too unfocused, but…Nothing else.
He was thankful.
He turned back to the fight, and searched the skies for the Night Fury. He had to shoot it down.
Hiccup's growls morphed into a snarl.
Crack.
He knew exactly what he had to do.
His shot was already ready. His dive had been to warn the Hooligans, to warn his tribe of his impending attacks.
Warn them that they needed to take cover, to flee.
He didn't need to dive.
He prepared, and aimed where he would find the Night Fury, ignoring the battle in favor of taking out the most dangerous enemy. In favor of killing his nemesies.
"Why?"
He was ready.
Then Hiccup heard the Night Fury's screech, its angry dive. He followed. His aim was ready, eyes wide and seeing. He could hear its call, closing in on the northern catapults, ready to kill every Viking there…
He couldn't save them.
…
Just the barest hint, the slightest flash of light. Something to aim at. Something to unleash the might of the skies upon.
KRYYYYYYYYYYYY-
A shadow, faint, as the blast left the Night Furies mouth.
BOOOOOOOOOM! Hiccup shot just as the ballista shattered, just as the men aboard it were blasted apart.
And with the sound of thunder echoing through the world, it was felled.
Hiccup was mesmerized to see it seemingly still in one piece, and watched as it fell into the forests. And he heard a bare and distant crash where it landed.
He gritted his teeth, a snarl baring on his teeth. Great.
He turned back to the fight. The Night Fury's corpse would be found later, after the battle.
He needed to protect the village.
A quick survey told him that the pure white lightning of his blast had managed to blind the dragons and men beneath the attacking Fury. Good. Now, it was his turn to dive.
He settled his sight on the dragons down below, scampering and shaking their heads.
He swung around to shoot at the empty sky and allowed the power of the magic to propel him down into the crowd of dragons. He felt his screech built up, to warn his fellows aware enough of what was happening, to get out of the way.
He was, after all, joining the fight with claws. He slammed down onto the unguarded back of a Nightmare, shattering its spine from the impact, and lunged for a startled Nadder screeching at him. A quick bite to the throat, a slash at it's side, and he danced out of the fire of another Nadder as the blue one fell.
He didn't give them enough time to attack. He lunged, his speed as lightning, and bit and clawed and tore…
The screams of the dragons, their horrified wails and gurgling roars were quick to cut off in face of him, and Hiccup showed little mercy as he put an end to every single one of them. And though they had all died in the Night Fury's rage…
Hiccup would find the Night Fury later. For now, he had a village to defend.
And a father to make proud.
Chapter 2:
Dragon
Warble.
"You first."
…'Talking' over each other was an annoying habit.
Hiccup sighed. It was going to be one of those nights. He grunted again, relaxing back in their intact home. He glared at his Dad. Even the perfect warmth of the fireplace soaking into his aching belly did little to stop him from wondering why Dad was trying to annoy him. He grunted at the older man.
"You're going to dragon training, and that's final."
Growl.
"You need to train against some Vikings that aren't me, Hiccup, and you need to learn to work better with your tribemates. Especially the ones your own age, the ones you should be friends with."
Hiccup groaned, rolling over and moving to the piece of evened wood Gobber gave him to write with. It was a new one, so he wouldn't have much of a problem having things becoming too crisscrossed to be unintelligible.
They hate me, Hiccup scratched out with extra emphasis on 'hate', snorting at nothing at all as he settled back.
His father sighed, tiredly rubbed his forehead, letting loose a weary sigh. Now Hiccup felt kind of guilty, even if he wanted to bury it along with all the other guilt. He whined, nosing into his father's beard.
The old man sighed again and gently patted at Hiccup's snout.
Despite yesterday's jovial attitude, Hiccup knew his father was a busy and constantly tired man, and despite the price they made the dragons pay, it had still been a very bad raid. A sad amount of the food stocks had been taken, at least fifty sheep carried off, and more than ten tribesman dead, soon to be memorialized in fire. He needed to figure out the rations, the funeral, and so much else Hiccup wouldn't even consider, just to survive another winter.
But Hiccup wasn't feeling too compromising in that moment, no matter his care for his father. He was still rather angry (annoyed, if he was being honest to himself) to have found nothing but a stray scale and a deep dent of felled dragon in the forest floor. The Night Fury had almost definitely flown off, the lucky creature, after somehow having both survived and stayed conscious after Hiccup's blast. Hiccup's blast! The same blast that turned entire dragons into piles of electrocuted ash! Either it had somehow dodged the attack despite the very clear hit, or the Night Fury was able to use magic and had protected himself using it.
It made him growl just thinking of it. Dragons didn't have magic! So how had it survived! What was Hiccup missing?!
It was almost like he was dealing something more than a Night Fury.
He stopped his rising hiss, closing his eyes as he breathed in, breathed out. During the silence, he shook off the anger from his thoughts and tried to focus back on the conversation at hand. The conversation with his father about…
About…
…Where were they talking about again?
Ah! Right. For him to be put into Dragon Training. With the other teens. Hiccup had no problem acting the part of the wild Night Fury on occasion when the lessons needed him, but to actually train with them?! It sounded like Zippleback gas just ready to go off at a moment's notice.
"Hiccup," Dad started in his 'I'm too tired and I won't take no for an answer so listen' voice.
Hiccup hated that voice.
"You need to be closer to your tribemates. You're going to be the future chief, and if not, then the marshal. You need to be trusted by them. I know," He glared when Hiccup started to roll his eyes, stopping him in the middle. "I know they don't hate you. I know a lot of the tribe like you. Might even think of you as one of us! But you need to earn their trust. Your help in the raids do a lot of good, but it's important to instill it in the next generation, in your own generation of Vikings."
Silence. Hiccup held back a grumble. So that was the reason for his insistence. A strange hope to still make Hiccup into chief.
"It'll be fun and easy for you. It was for me too, when I was your age. Ah, I still remember the creaking of the Nightmare's skull in my hands. One of the weaker ones I've fought over the years, I think. You might not need any of the training Gobber gets you, and you may already know most of it – or find it useless for yourself –, but it's important to be seen participating in stuff like this. To be part of the tribe. Plus, it'll give you an excuse to show off a bit against the others."
Hiccup sighed, shaking his head. He widened his eyes towards his father, begging him to reconsider.
"Son," He sighed. "Please, son, I don't want to hear about how far away from everyone you are. You can enjoy your relative solitude, you deserve some peace, but don't put yourself so far off from everyone else."
…
Hiccup slumped, and just nodded.
"Good."
An awkward moment passed.
Sensing the conversation done with, Hiccup moved back towards the fire and, feeling a bit like annoying his dad, sat on top of it.
It felt glorious.
It was mildly concerning when his father just sighed. Hiccup looked up, and saw him slinging on his voyage pouch.
Oh.
"We're having a final hunt for the nest before ice sets in."
He warbled saddeningly, concern in his voice and eyes. He started to rise, to follow…
"No, Hiccup. It's too early for you to come. Stay home, help rebuild the village, and help defend it from any invaders."
Hiccup drooped, but crooned a goodbye.
Please come back.
"I'll be back."
The door opened to the stark cold air of winter.
"Probably"
And then he left.
Hiccup crooned with worry, horrible thoughts of what could happen on the hunt straining his mind…
He closed his eyes, and sighed. Curling around the dimming fire, he spat a ball of thunder in, and soon sleep claimed him.
Tomorrow, he'd "train".
…And maybe he could finally have some friends that weren't six times his age.
Astrid Hofferson, the eldest child of the Hofferson family, held a grim, determined and mostly indifferent mask to her face as Gobber led them over the great wooden bridge that led the view to the Kill Ring. It swayed beneath the weight of their group, but it was a sturdy build, a sturdy bridge.
Nothing short of cutting it in half would have it collapsing.
Astrid's eyes wondered, first to the forest's beyond the approaching Ring, and then to the waves below. They were churning things of silent wonder, an ever present sound at the back of every Viking's mind. Calm, strong, unbeatable.
Beautiful.
Astrid looked towards her friends, the people she had grown up with by virtue of being the same age. Snotlout, strong and capable when he put his focus to it, but generally too stupid and distracted to be dependable. Fishlegs, probably the strongest Viking in their generation, and certainly the most knowledgeable…
But only dependable when it came to getting some dragon knowledge out of him. Ruff and Tuff insane Loki worshippers who had more nonsense to say that Bucket ever did, and who tended to join the dragons and smile as the village burned beneath their flames.
She shuddered at the thought of ever relying on either of them.
The chief's "son" was also their age, but that creature was no friend of theirs, and definitely wouldn't be present for this training.
He was, afterall, the arrogant son of the Stoick the Vast himself! Killer of countless Night Furies! The most deadly defender of Berk!
She snorted. He was a monster just waiting to turn on the tribe. If it had been her decision, she'd long since put the thing down; but the Chief was stubborn in having the thing as his own son. The rest of them just had to hope it would die before it could show them its true colours.
Then there was her: The most promising Viking of the generation, one who had trained all her life to kill the dragons raiding the Archipelago, one whose signs of training marred the trees of Berk, and she was finally allowed to claim her birthright. Finally allowed to prove herself as the best dragon killer, the best Warrior.
So she couldn't really stop the slight, imperceptible swagger to her steps. The way they jumped when she imagined the glory of the battle, of gaining the honour of slaying the Nightmare.
Honour.
It felt like her breath was knocked out of her, but she quickly recovered, thankful no-one noticed, and followed once more the old blacksmith. They were only a paces away now, ready to leave the bridge for the steady grass hills.
Astrid jumped the gap with a little shift of the axe slung over her shoulders, turning her weight into a dash. Snotlout, the twins and large lump of Fishlegs followed quickly after.
After so many years of Fire Brigade duty, it was a breath of fresh air.
"Now, as all of you should kno'," Gobber suddenly started, glancing at them from the corner of his eye before shuffling down the ramps of the Ring with a beckoning swagger of his hook-hand. "I will be training ye' to fight the beasties, with whoever that shows the most promise and skill being allowe' the honour of killing thei' first dragon! Their first Nightmare too! And in front of the whole village!"
Fishlegs gasped, apparently not knowing about that very central, very commonly known fact. Astrid held back an undignified snort, as well as the mild surprise at Fishlegs being the one to not know about the reward for winning dragon training.
"Now, if only he'd show up…" Astrid glanced over to the old Viking, wondering what he was muttering to himself about. His still intact hand made a short cap over his eyes as he searched around the sky for whoever he was thinking about.
Then he shrugged, hooking a hand under the grates they were walking towards. Astrid rubbed the handle of her battle-axe, anticipation shining in her mind as her eyes settled on the dragons' cages.
"Insi' now!" He easily lifted the thing over. Astrid was, of course, the first to walk in.
"No turning back."
Around the arena were scattered remains of wood, some random shields and…A stack of rocks?
Gronckle.
Astrid was pretty sure now what their training would be about that morning, and clung to her weapon harder.
She felt anticipation rising up in her, as well as a bit of dread. Would Gobber start them out fighting a dragon? Shouldn't he teach them some things first? Astrid was sure she knew everything there was to know about fighting dragons, but there was bound to be something!
But she didn't voice her doubts, not even as the five of them stood in front of Gobber.
"These will only be some of the species of dragon you will be taught to fight, though the most common ones!" He swept over to the right, hands behind his back.
"The Deadly Nadder."
"Speed eight, armor sixteen."
Astrid deadpanned at Fishlegs as he muttered next to the twins, holding back a sigh. She wondered how long it'd take to annoy someone actually willing to hit him over his stupidity.
He didn't seem to notice her expression though, since he definitely did not stop spouting stupid numbers.
"The Hideous Zippleback."
"Eleven stealth times two."
What.
Astrid…Decided to ignore her fellow.
"The Monstrous Nightmare!"
"Firepower fifteen."
"The Terrible Terror,"
"Attack eight, venom twel-"
"CAN YOU STOP THA'?"
Everything went silent as Gobber rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Astrid sagged in relief.
"And, the Gronckle." His hand went to the lever.
Astrid tensed, and Snotlout seemed to have realized the same thing as her. "Wait wait wait! Aren't you going to teach us first?"
Gobber smiled innocently.
"I believe…" He paused, as if for dramatic effect. "In learning on the job."
Creeeek.
Astrid sprang, diving for the closest shield as the Gronckle burst out of its cage. She sensed a blast coming her way, the heat simmering the hair on the back of her head, and she was lucky to reach the shield and raise it behind herself.
Booomph.
Astrid grunted as she rolled forward, away from the gathering lava. That thing had weight. She was quick to turn around when back on her feet, her roll ending, and lifted the shield in a perfect guard that wouldn't let the heavy hits deter her to watch the dragon.
It had forgotten her, it seemed, and was happy to blast right between a pair of arguing twins.
Ruff! Tuff!
She didn't know whether to growl or to flinch when the shield between them imploded, though it thankfully didn't seem to have hurt the pair much.
The Gronckle was still focused on them though, so unless she wanted to see one of them injured or dead, Astrid had to attack it.
So she did.
Astrid charged with a roar, shield at an angle and axe raised above her head.
"Tuffnut, Ruffnut; you're out!"
Its head swiveled towards her with remarkable speed, wings buzzing agitatedly as it's throat grew bright red.
Astrid dodged to the left, abandoning the charge as far too dangerous to finish.
"Make noise, and lots o' it! Most dragons are sensitive to noise, so use that to your advantage and stun the beasties for a swift kill!"
Astrid was pleasantly surprised to hear the others use the new info in their rough circle of the Gronckle. It's eyes danced in its skull and it growled. It's flight grew unsteady, the wings carrying it not seeming to buzz as well as before.
It's working. Now, just to…
And its eyes focused on Fishlegs, and Astrid shivered at the intensity. A giant fireball broke its way out of the dragon's maw and right towards the the chubby boy. He ran away instead of dodging (thankfully just as effective for staying alive), screaming his lungs out as the Gronckle followed him with fire bared.
"Fishlegs, you're out!" Astrid would have wondered why he was out, but she was far too occupied slamming her shield in the vain hope to rescue the boy. They couldn't reach him in time, they…
Snotlout's hammering trailed off, as did hers, and they threw their shields away to run forward, roaring, screaming at the top of their lungs as they lunged. They had to stop it, stop it before it cornered Fishlegs! Before it-before it-!
A crackle before the thunder.
BOOM.
It was as if Thor himself had struck the arena, lightning crashing into the dragon the last thing Astrid saw before the light blinded her.
Her ears ached, and she stumbled, barely able to hear anything but muted murrs and a high zzzzzzzziiiing in her ears.
It was horrible.
Then it was over, and Astrid could finally see again.
And what she saw drew conclusions to exactly what she was hoping not to happen. The Gronckle lay next to a wall, whimpering and licking at the blackened left of its flanks. A small indent in the wall above it told Astrid of exactly what kind of force had to have hit the monster.
"Hiccup!" Gobber shouted, seeming to be the only other person in the arena who had regained his senses. He laughed heartily, as if the blood of Thor hadn't just struck at their Ring. "You're late! What kept you back you stubborn lizard?"
Hiccup Haddock snorted, laying over the railing atop them, eying the mad old Viking who had almost gotten Fishlegs killed on the first day of training with a strange half narrowed lilt of his pupils. He threw his head up, after a moment in which he seemed to be in thought, a strange and inhuman imitation of swallowing.
Astrid guessed the Heir had been eating.
"Well, don't let it happen again, Hiccup! You shouldn't wake up so late anyway."
A grunt, not dismissive but seeming to say 'what're you gonna do?' with such a level of amused sarcasm Astrid was feeling surprised he hadn't actually spoken the words, despite, well, everything.
"Yah yah, whatever. Just come on time tomorrow."
And he helped Fishlegs up to check him over, Astrid left alone as the others left to observe the Night Fury above.
He glanced over at her.
He smiled.
Astrid walked out with the others, swiftly leaving the Ring.