A Better Version of Our Best

Chapter 7: If Only You Knew

Hiccup and Toothless followed Rama outside, where the sun was already high in the sky.

"What are we doing here?" He looked around, expecting to see something besides the snow and frost and ice that cover the area, but there was nothing. "I thought you said you were going to explain the raids?"

"It's easier if I just show you," she said, using her staff to draw on the ground. He watched as she outlined a simple map. There were several islands clustered in a way he'd seen on his father's maps as a boy.

"The archipelago," he said, pointing.

"Aye, that's where you're from, isn't it?" Rama replied, not looking up from her drawing.

"How did you-"

"It was the mention of the raids that did it, although your accent didn't hurt," she interrupted, now adding more locations to the map, places he'd never seen or heard of, to the north and south and east and west. "That's the only place that still really gets them, now."

"Now?" Hiccup asked, curiosity piqued. "What about- wait, what are you doing?"

"You'll see," she said, drawing three circles around various parts of the map. The first encircled most of the archipelago. The second was to the southeast, and didn't seem to include much land. The third, on the western edge of the map, was much, much larger than either of the others, though it also contained little actual land.

Then she drew an 'x' near the middle of the first circle- not far from where Berk was, actually. Another 'x' went into the bottom half of the second circle. In the third circle, she just put a large question mark.

"Most dragons live in one of three nests," she explained, pointing first at the second 'x'. "This one is the Bewilderbeast's nest, where we are now."

"And the circles are, what, territory ranges?" Hiccup asked, starting to make sense of what he was seeing. "Hunting grounds?"

"Something like that," she said, pointing at the 'x' in the archipelago. "This is where the raiding dragons you've seen live. Some Vikings call it-"

"Helheim's Gate," interrupted Hiccup, remembering everything he'd heard about it over the years.

"Aye," she said.

"And what about the third nest?" He pointed at the circle on the west side.

"It's definitely somewhere in that area, but I've never seen it myself and have no idea where it might be," Rama answered. "The only reason I know it's there is because I've seen dragons flying that way. But I'll get to that in a moment."

"Alright," Hiccup said, kneeling down to study the map further, noting the areas that were outside of any of the circles.

"It wasn't always this way," said the older woman, sighing. "When I first started out, there were smaller nests and flocks all over the place. And there are still wild dragons around, if you know where to look."

"Oh?" Hiccup shifted into a position that would allow him to see both Rama and the map.

"Aye," she said sadly. "A few especially territorial Terrors, the odd Timberjack or Whispering Death… there's still a nest of fireworms somewhere in the archipelago, I believe a small flock of Razorwhips lives somewhere in this region" she pointed at the eastern part of the map, beyond the reaches of the archipelago, "and several other lone dragons. And of course there are still plenty of Tidal Class dragons hiding out there in the ocean, but it's not at all like it used to be."

"So what happened?" Hiccup asked, feeling curious almost despite himself. (Generally, he tended to think of fewer wild dragons around as a good thing, but it was clear there was more to the story here.)

"It started a few decades ago," she said, making smaller markings all throughout the regions in the middle of the map, outside the reach of any of the circles. "Part of it was the hunters. They've always been there, people who'd trap and use dragons for their own purposes. But then something changed. They became, for lack of a better word, organized. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"It was that guy, right?" Hiccup asked, the memory coming back to him as they entered back into territory he was a bit more familiar with. "The one whose name I can never remember. Bloody-fist?"

"Bludvist," said Rama, looking at him curiously. "Drago Bludvist. Now, I never met the man, so all I can tell you is what I found in papers I commandeered from the trappers, but my understanding is that he wanted to create some kind of dragon army."

"Yeah, " Hiccup said, nodding. "Apparently he had some… way of commanding the dragons or something?"

"Yes…" she said, nodding. "I have reason to believe he may have had another Bewilderbeast under his control."

"Ohhh," Hiccup said, several things he'd wondered about now making sense. "So then, when he died-"

"Died?" Rama asked, sounding confused.

"In his sleep, or so I hear," said Hiccup, rolling his eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine as to whether that means he went peacefully or someone who didn't like him very much decided to take him out."

"Good riddance," Rama said, shaking her head. "In any case, after he disappeared from the scene, so did most of his dragons. A few of them came here, but the vast majority went in this direction and haven't been seen or heard from since." She pointed to the circle in the west.


Eighteen years ago…

Hiccup was seventeen when he asked his father the question that everyone in the village had been wondering about for years, but no one had actually had the courage to speak aloud around Stoick.

"So, Dad," began the young smith over the breakfast table one morning. "Have you decided who the next chief is going to be yet?"

Stoick the Vast spit out his mead.

"What are you talking about, son?" The chief of Berk looked as though Thor had struck him over the head with his mighty hammer. "Hiccup, you're my heir."

Hiccup laughed.

"Wait, you're serious?" He smiled wryly and shook his head. "You and I both know that Berk is not prepared to handle all of this in a chief." He gestured up and down at himself. "It'd have to be someone level-headed enough to make difficult choices, someone stubborn enough to stand up to a bunch of angry Vikings, someone who really understands and cares for them, someone people would actually like well enough to listen to."

"People like you!" Stoick said. (Hiccup wondered what island he'd been living on.)

"Of course they like me, I'm very likable," he said. "And it doesn't hurt to have a friendly word or two for the Viking who keeps your swords sharp." Something he'd had to hammer into Snotlout's head a few times, but the lesson had stuck eventually.

"But they don't exactly respect me," continued Hiccup. "I'm the strange-but-harmless kid with the weird ideas, not their future chief."

"But you would be!" Stoick insisted. "Just because they don't see you that way now doesn't mean that they never will."

Hiccup could not believe he was having this discussion with his father. Sure, their relationship was much better than it had been in his early teenage years, when he could barely step outside without causing a disaster and his dad couldn't talk to him without some sort of criticism. (He hadn't set anything important on fire in ages, and he couldn't remember the last time his dad had made that disappointed scowl he'd often made whenever Hiccup started talking.) But it wasn't as though they had serious discussions about the future or heartfelt emotional confessions, either.

He knew Dad loved him. But it wasn't until right now that Hiccup realized that he also believed in him, believed that he really could be the next chief, hadn't realized what every other person on this island had known for years.

Hiccup was not that Viking.

"Dad, I'm an apprentice blacksmith. And not a blacksmith like Gobber, who'll pull a blade from the forge and then turn around and fight off dragons with it. I make weapons, I don't use them." He said the words carefully, wanting to get them right. "You know I'm no warrior or dragon-killer- that's why you never put me in dragon training. I'm not like you guys."

Once, that had bothered him. In his younger years, all he'd wanted to do was be like everyone else, to slay a dragon and prove he could be a great Viking warrior.

But eventually he'd realized that that wasn't the only way he could help his village. He didn't have to fight, he could create. He could forge weapons for others to fight with, build pulleys that would douse a fire with a tug of a rope.

Astrid's words to him two years earlier were still ringing in his ears. (He wouldn't be surprised if she'd forgotten the whole conversation, but he never would.)

Do you have any idea how lucky you are?

"And I'm okay with that. I like what I do. I'm happy with who I am and where I'm going. But I'm not exactly 'chief' material, Dad," said Hiccup, looking his father in the eye. "I know it, you know it, everyone on Berk knows it. Which brings me back to my original question. Who is?"


Present day…

"But Dargo what's-his-name died, what, five years ago? Ten?" Finnegan asked, tilting his head curiously. "And without a leader, the whole thing kind of… fell apart, or so I hear. Sure, there was some in-fighting, and some new leaders tried to take over, but I got the impression that most of the men were just disillusioned with the whole thing and ready to move on with their lives."

"Is that so?" Valka asked, wondering just where he'd gotten that information. "But the damage was already done. The number of dragons that were captured or killed or injured on Drago's command was far too many to replace, and the number of dragons who'd lost their usual habitats and hunting grounds were incalculable. And, as you saw for yourself, there are still plenty of hunters and trappers around, now better trained, better organized, and fiercely determined to stay ahead of their competition. I don't know if there will ever be as many free, wild dragons as there once were."

"Okay, so all of that makes sense, I guess," Finn said, studying the map again. "But all of that was happening out here, right?" He pointed at the areas she'd marked off as hunter strongholds, and at the southern region they were in now. "But what does that have to do with the dragon attacks there?" He pointed at the northern circle, the one she knew must contain the island he was born and raised in. "Because last time I checked, the frequency of dragon raids hadn't changed much in seven generations. Now, I'll admit it's been a few years since I was last home, but I doubt things have changed that much."

"Ah, yes," Valka said, staring at the mark she'd made to represent the dragon's nest in Helheim's Gate, just a short way away from where she herself had once lived. "That would be because of this." She pointed at it, shuddering.

"What's so special about that nest?" Finn asked, staring down at it.

"Traditionally, every nest has its queen, much like a beehive of sorts," Valka explained. "Here, of course, we have the Bewilderbeast, and as I said, I don't know much about the western nest except that it's there."

"Okay, so, dragon queen," said Finn. "What kind of queen does that nest have?"

"I have no idea," Valka said, rubbing her arms. She rarely got more that a little chilled, but even thinking about that place made her insides go cold.

"You haven't seen it?" Finnegan asked, looking back up at her.

"Oh no, I've certainly seen it," she said, remembering that huge head, those teeth… "Just once, but once was more than enough."

"So then…" His eyes scanned her, and she shifted self-consciously. She wasn't used to moderating her facial expressions to disguise them from others.

"I've never seen anything like it," Valka said, taking a deep breath. Pull yourself together.

"Lady, you live in a glorified iceberg with a giant frost dragon who can freeze things by breathing on them," said Finn, clearly mystified. "What could be so terrifying about this particular dragon queen?"

"It's not just her size or power, although those are nothing to scoff at," she said, shaking her head as she remembered the way she and Cloudjumper had had to maneuver in order to avoid the beast. "It's what she does."

"Does?" Finn asked. "You mean, like, her attack? What is it, poison? Boiling water? Lava?"

"No, not that," Valka said. "The head of a nest is supposed to take care of it. The Bewilderbeast built this place to be a shelter for the dragons here, and he helps provide for them."

"A chief protects his own," Finn murmured, and she shot him a sharp glance. She knew she'd heard someone say that before…

"Where did you hear that?" Valka asked cautiously.

"It was something my- someone I knew used to tell me," he said, suddenly looking sad. "A leader is meant to guide and shelter and protect, rather than terrify or dominate."

"Very true," said Valka, sighing again. "Unfortunately, that queen seems to have missed that particular lesson."

"In what way?" Finnegan asked, looking nervous.


Eighteen years ago…

Stoick gaped at his son, feeling as though something central had been pulled out from underneath him.

"Fishlegs might be a decent chief, but he'd probably prefer an advisory role of some kind," Hiccup was saying, counting off on his fingers. "Snotlout's… probably better off with something that utilizes his… unique contributions without putting everything on his shoulders."

"Hiccup-" But his son wasn't even looking at him, face contorted in that thoughtful expression of his.

"Tuffnut and Ruffnut are… well… the twins. Enough said, even without taking into account their family business," continued Hiccup, now up to four fingers. "Gustav's a little… rambunctious, to say the least, and I think his dad was talking about sending him to Phlock to apprentice him with that shipbuilder friend of his."

"Would you-"

"Anyone older than that is already going to have their own livelihood or apprenticeship to worry about," Hiccup said, scratching at his chin, where Stoick had noticed a few stray whiskers coming in. "But I don't know enough about most of the younger kids to know whether they've got the right temperament-"

"HICCUP!" Stoick yelled, wishing his son would just stop and listen to him.

"Yeah, Dad?" His son looked up at him. "Is something wrong?"

"Hiccup, I really think-"

"Thor's hammer," Hiccup interrupted, glancing out the window. "I'm going to be late for work." Jumping out of his seat, he dumped his bowl in the washbasin and dashed for the door. "Bye Dad, nice talking to you."

"Yeah…" said Stoick, feeling as though he'd been trampled by a pack of wild boars. "Good talk, son."


Present day…

"Imagine a dragon whose head alone is the size of a mountain," Rama said, shuddering again. "One with teeth the size of houses."

"Sounds… terrifying," Hiccup said, rubbing a hand along Toothless's hide. The Night Fury made a slight cooing sound, and Hiccup wondered if he had ever met this queen.

"Now imagine that, unlike the Bewilderbeast, she makes her dragons bring her food," continued Rama.

"How much would something like that even… eat…" Hiccup trailed off, feeling a sudden sinking in his stomach. More than enough to feed any one village, that's for sure.

"Exactly," Rama said, closing her eyes. "And when the dragons don't bring her what she wants, she finds something a little closer to home."

"You mean…" Something inside Hiccup recoiled at the thought, a part of him that he thought had been completely desensitized after everything he'd seen and heard since he'd first left home.

"Aye," said Rama, nodding. "If she's unhappy with what she's been given, she eats them."

"Great Odin's ghost," Hiccup swore. "No wonder they come after us. But why don't they just… leave? Come here, or try to find that nest in the west you told me about."

"How?" Rama asked. "Most of them have lived there their whole lives and don't even know there are other options. And even if they do, there are hunters and angry Vikings and all sorts of other dangers lurking between them and one of the other nests."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Hiccup asked, scratching behind Toothless's ear. "There must be some way to take her down."

"None I've been able to come up with," Rama said, shaking her head. "The only dragon who might be able to challenge her is the Bewilderbeast, but he can't leave the nest. And even if he could, he can't fly- there's no way to get him safely past hunters and Vikings and every other danger that lies between here and there."

"Thor's baggy breeches," Hiccup said, using one of his father's preferred profanities. "There's got to be something that can stop her." He stood up, keeping a hand on Toothless.

"Where are you going?" Rama asked, calling after him as he started walking back inside.

"To strategize," he called back. "I'm going to need some paper, a pen, and a decent amount of ink or charcoal, whichever is easier. I'm also going to need to use some of that scrapped metal I saw lying around the caves. I don't suppose you've got a forge here?"

Hiccup desperately wanted to get back home. And for a few short hours, it had seemed possible that he was almost there.

But he couldn't go back yet, not when the answer to the biggest problem his village had ever faced was in sight.

I'll be home soon, Hicc, Zeph, Finn, he thought to himself. Just give me a little longer, okay Dad?


Eighteen years ago…

Hiccup paused on his way out the door.

"If you want my advice," he said, turning back to look at his father, who wore a strange expression Hiccup couldn't quite decipher. "I'd go with Astrid."

"Astrid?" Dad asked, sounding confused. "What exactly for?"

"For the next chief?" Hiccup said, rolling his eyes. "Have you been listening to anything I've said this morning?"