In case last chapter didn't make it clear, the Drago arc of this story is by far going to be the darkest one. Canon!Drago was a monster, and this fic's Drago isn't turning out to be any better... That said, there won't be anything graphic.

Updates will be slowing down now that school has begun. This will also be the final arc of this story.

Chapter 39

We flew well into the night. At some point indistinguishable from the others, I saw the fleet. It was at least two dozen strong; definitely an army. All of them were the big ships that Eret and his crew had manned. There was no sign of the missing dragons; I bet they were being kept prisoner below deck.

I got as close as I dared. "Okay guys, time to turn back . . . Guys?"

Toothless and Skullcrusher shot past me.

"Guys!"

They headed straight for the ships. I cursed; they didn't intend to fight, did they? Toothless could be bold, but he wasn't usually that bold. Either way, I had no choice but to follow as they descended on one ship that appeared to be the flagship

They landed right on the deck.

"Are you guys crazy?" I hissed. "What if someone had seen you -?"

"Well," said a deep, dangerous voice, "look who decided to drop in. I've been waiting to meet you for a while, Hiccup."

I didn't need to ask. I knew this was him. Every inch of my body shivered, ready for the showdown.

I turned.

Drago Bludvist looked like a madman. While we Vikings weren't exactly known for our hygiene, at least we knew how to groom. Drago had tied his dark hair off into dreadlocks, but it didn't stop anyone from seeing how matted it looked - like the wool of a sheep that had never been sheared. The braids fell around a gaunt, leather-hewn face with eye sockets that sunk too deep and a sharp nose dividing it down the center. His bottom lip was much thicker than the upper one, casting the illusion that his lower jaw stuck out. Long scars – like claw-marks – littered his face; they struck across his forehead, slashed down his temple and through his lip, and underlined his eyes. Each one rose from his skin like a bulging vein.

Like the Lava Louts, Drago had a cloak made from what smelt like dragon-skin. He held it in front of him, so that it covered his left arm. In his other hand, he held what appeared to be a metal bullhook that also had a spear-like tip. Under his cloak, almost all of the rest of his clothes were made of dragon-skin. The scales flickered every time he moved, like I was viewing a field of stars in a rippling pool.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock." Drago licked his lips. "Berk's great Dragon Master."

He smelt like blood. My head swam. In my dizziness, I thought I smelt her. Had I? Was it her? Was it her blood that clung to him like a shroud?

"When you escaped from my best trapper, I thought I'd have to go to Berk myself. But here you are." He grinned nastily, exposing gap-riddled teeth. "Within my grasp."

"You destroyed the Nest," I whispered. "You're the man behind everything that happened to me. And you . . . you . . ."

Fire boiled in my belly.

"You killed her. You killed my mother."

My claws dug into the deck. My back arched.

"I'm taking you down!"

My tail shoved against the ground with my paws, propelling me forward. My mouth opened in a silent roar, and the boiling fire bubbled up my throat –

Something big grabbed me by the tail. I stopped short in mid-air, and then flew backwards. The wooden deck slammed into my side, and I rolled from the momentum. Drago was sneering; his left lip had lifted while the right side remained in its permanent frown. How had he . . .? He hadn't even moved! But I didn't smell any other humans on the deck.

I found my footing, and growled. I wouldn't make the same mistake. This time, I'd fry him where he stood –

Something big tackled me. The deck crushed my chest and forced out my breath in a whoosh. Before I could move, a great weight came down on the spot between my shoulder blades, pinning me. My teeth slid out. I turned my head, ready to bite –

I froze.

"T-Toothless?"

His paw didn't move. His teeth flashed between his jaws as he growled. At me. But most terrifying of all were his eyes. His pupils had contracted to mere slits, black cracks in the otherwise luminescent green. If they thinned any further, they would disappear completely. They were the eyes of a dragon that was not themself.

The eyes of a dragon operating under another's will.

I tore my gaze away and looked across the ship. Skullcrusher teetered on his feet, the same vague look in his eyes. Drago passed between us suddenly, and he seemed to swell until he filled my vision. His cloak moved and beneath it, was more metal – his arm. Just like my human-self's leg, his left arm wasn't made of flesh.

"Do you see?" Drago asked me. "I have all the power here."

"Toothless, snap out of it! Toothless, it's me!" As Drago's heavy footsteps came closer, I scratched at the deck. "What did you do to him?"

Drago held up his bullhook. I flinched. But he only spun it over his head and screamed like a crazy person.

Behind him, a shadow rose from the water.

"No . . ."

The same majestic crown of spines; the same blue eyes; the same size. But this couldn't be the king. Because the king was calm and wise, but this Bewilderbeast looked as vicious as Drago. Needle-like teeth peppered the dragon's mouth in a ghoulish scowl. This Bewilderbeast was not white like his majesty, but a muddy brown. Its tusks curved out and up, and each one was adorned with a manacle and chain that fell somewhere below the waves.

"Do you know what this is, Hiccup?" Drago asked.

As he ranted on about how this was the alpha of dragons, I tuned him out. I met the Bewilderbeast's shadowed eyes. Who are you?

He spoke to me. You are the one we have been searching for? A hatchling?

What -?

I could . . . I could feel him inside my head. Nothing like the king's gentle presence. The stranger's mental claws tore into my mind, burning like ice. My brain pounded as if a series of explosions had gone off inside my skull.

What is your true form? the Bewilderbeast demanded.

My train of thought automatically turned to the answers to those questions. The Bewilderbeast snatched up each image, scanning it before throwing it aside. I couldn't stop him. He grabbed each one by the tail, and dragged the main body out into the open.

You're just a crippled human, the Bewilderbeast sneered. And now a frail hatchling. Pathetic.

What are you? I said. You're not an alpha.

I am. The Bewilderbeast's eyes widened, making him look further deranged.

No! You're nothing like the king. You're a tyrant!

I am power, spoke the tyrant. I am strength. I am alpha.

Those three words awoke a rage inside me that wasn't human. I don't follow you! dragon-me screeched.

Toothless bounced my head off the deck.

"Careful!" Drago barked. "He might not be any good to us damaged."

The tyrant huffed in irritation. To me, he said, Your ruler isn't here. Your companions obey me. And if your dear king does appear, I will slay him.

"I win, Hiccup," Drago said. He pointed his bullhook at me. "Now, submit."

My tail lashed. Never.

Drago's face twisted into an ugly expression. Still pointing that bullhook, he roared at the tyrant. "Make him bow!"

The king's pupils seemed to glint; they grew and contracted rapidly. An intense pressure settled on my mind, threatening to smother it into unconsciousness. I blinked, shook my head. Colours leaked and mixed as the world swirled and swam.

Bow.

No way.

Bow!

"Shut up!"

As the tyrant stared at the little, bristling dragon who had defied his wishes, he looked nothing less than stunned. Drago waited, unable to hear us speaking. Time ticked by. Sailors – Drago's men – gathered in the trapdoor that led below deck. None of them ventured above; they seemed more frightened of their master than me. Drago shifted, finally realizing that I wasn't ever about to bow to someone like him.

"Like the hatchlings at the Nest," he said, disgusted. "It doesn't matter. You understand my words. You will obey me."

He closed in. His boot rose; its shadow fell over me –

I spat fire. Drago jerked sideways, and the fireball careened past him and harmlessly into the open sky.

"Very well." He marched over to the trap door, where his sailors nearly tripped over themselves getting away. He held his hand out, gesturing at someone, and a sheathed sword was passed between hands until it reached Drago. He pulled out the blade, letting its tip clack against the ground. "Consider this a warning, Hiccup."

He walked up to Skullcrusher. He grabbed the dragon's horn with his free hand.

I said, "Wait, what are you doing? . . . No! NO, STOP-!"

Snck.

"Make sure you understand," Drago said. "You're mine, now."

He let go. Dad's dragon crashed to the floor. The Rumblehorn's eyes were directly on me, but they saw nothing.

"You . . . you. . . Skullcrusher . . ."

Drago's leering shadow blocked out the light. I shook. This was the face of a killer. This was the kind of monster that shouldn't exist outside nightmares and stories. Dad was right. Drago Bludvist was a madman. I shouldn't have come here.

"No tricks, Hiccup," Drago said. With each sentence, he took another step toward me. "No funny business or any of the like. You obey me. You do what I tell you."

My paws left red streaks on the wood. They hurt; blood oozed from the skin wrapped around my claws' base. Toothless held me in place. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't get away. Oh, Skullcrusher, I'm so sorry . . .

Drago continued. "And if you dare try to flee . . ."

When he grabbed Toothless's snout, it moved him enough for me to squirm free. I stumbled right into the ship's rail, collapsing in a heap. My pulse was so fast that it hurt. My gaze was locked on Toothless's blank eyes. Toothless . . . Toothless, look at me. Please, see me . . .

Drago wrenched Toothless's head back and pressed the blood-stained blade against his throat.

"NO! No, please! Don't hurt him! I'll do anything!"

I threw myself at his feet. The wind howled, picking up little red droplets from Skullcrusher's limp body and rolling them over the deck. I couldn't look anymore. I kept picturing Toothless on the ground with the same dead eyes as Skullcrusher. Please! Pleasepleaseplease don't hurt him!

Thump.

My heart stopped.

Don't look. Don't look. I hid my face under my wing. I couldn't. If I looked up and saw blood, I couldn't handle it. If I could turn back time and swap places with him, I would.

"You care for it?" I expected smugness from Drago; I got surprise.

I lifted my wing.

He was okay. He was alive. Without Drago holding his head up, it had fallen against the deck, but Toothless was alive. The only blood on him was that which had been passed on by the sword.

"I think we understand each other," Drago said. "You disappear, the dragon dies. Now, bow."

I had to focus to move each leg; the joints moved like they were clogged with sand. None of this felt real. Was that really my body moving? Was that me controlling it? I seemed to be somewhere else, watching as some invisible being manipulated my limbs. I could feel my body's position, but in the vague, instinctive way that you knew which way your hair fell.

"Good."

The sword touched the back of my neck. It was warm and slippery. I tried to ignore the wetness sliding down my neck, but the more I told myself not to think about it, the more I inevitably did. The ship rocked violently under me as I swallowed.

You are weak, the tyrant taunted me. You lost long before this moment.

"Where's Ragnok?" I flinched so violently at Drago's shout that I nearly cut myself, but he wasn't talking to me. "Someone wake him!"

Time passed. I don't know how long, but my muscles shook and I thought I might pass out.

A scrawny man, with arms and legs too long for his body, appeared on deck. His huge blue eyes blinked rapidly, and the thing that was supposed to be his beard looked more like a tuff. When he walked, it was with an odd stiffness, like he had been stretched on a rack and never quite recovered.

"There's your changeling." Drago moved too quickly for me to see, and kicked me toward the strange man. "Take him. I want to know what spell this is."

"Err, right. Certainly." Ragnok picked me up by the scruff. He held me far away from him like I was a piece of disgusting trash. "This situation isn't the least bit strange."

"Save the commentary. And don't worry. I'm sure Hiccup will gladly cooperate."

I didn't meet his eyes. I just wanted to curl up in a ball, open my eyes and realize this was all a nightmare.

As Ragnok carried me below deck, I tried one last time. "Toothless? Bud?

He didn't look at me.

I expected it to hurt. I waited for it to hurt. I had no idea what this Ragnok planned to do to me, but this magic was infused into the core of my being, so playing around with it would probably hurt. It barely did, though. Probably the most painful part was when Ragnok drew things on my back with foul-smelling liquid and forced potions down my throat. Lots of numbness followed; lots of numbness, dizziness and tingling, but not much pain. I saw colours that I don't think actually existed in real life, and heard things that no way were part of the ambient noise. It was almost like I spent most the time high on Dragon Nip (maybe there was some in the potions – who knew?).

At last, Ragnok gave up. With me lying on a table (tongue in a pool of drool), he slammed his quill and parchment down and threw his hands up. I glanced at it. In my bizarre sense of reality, the sentences were written in all directions: across the top of the page, up the sides, weaving through others . . . No, wait. I think that might actually be how Ragnok wrote it.

My high, stupor, whatever, wore off eventually. I sucked my bone-dry tongue back into my mouth. It felt thick and puffy. Using my reflection, I tried to see what had been scribbled on my back, but could only catch edges and tips of runes. Ragnok wasn't much help (nor did I want to ask him); the scrawny man was standing in a corner, rubbing his goatee between two fingers.

Then the door slammed open. My ears flattened, and my tail curled against my side.

"Well?" Drago demanded.

"I d-don't know!" Ragnok jumped so much, he nearly landed on his tiptoes. "I work with runes and potions, nothing fancy. This . . . this is real magic. Pure magic! This stuff is so rare. It takes years –"

"I don't care about what you can and cannot do," Drago said. He marched up to Ragnok, so that they stood nose-to-nose. "I need to know what kind of spell this is."

I blinked blearily. Yes, Drago wanted to know that so he could create his army. But what if I could convince him otherwise? What if he realized this wasn't the spell he was looking for. I stumbled over to a mortar filled with the same brown paste that appeared to be on my back. It was oily, and made it feel like my paw was covered in scurrying spiders.

Can't change back, I wrote. Drago continued to threaten Ragnok until I barked.

Drago stomped over. As his shadow grazed me, I leapt back, as if we had physically touched.

The man studied my warning emotionlessly. "You're stuck in this form? Good."

Good? No, not good! Didn't he see? Unless Drago could find someone with the know-how to modify this spell, it was useless for his plans! Not unless we had been wrong all along and he had something else in mind (maybe he wanted to become a dragon. He wouldn't . . . he wouldn't change into a Bewilderbeast, would he?).

"Keep looking," Drago said, and the door slammed behind him.

"Couldn't even say please," Ragnok grumbled. "Ah, well. Back to work, it is."

Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it. At least that much was on my side. It must have been early morning when Ragnok finished, because he kept yawning and rubbing his eyes. He carried me by my scruff, took me down to what must have been the lowest level, and tossed me in to what I imagine was a cargo hold.

I barely felt the impact. It ran through my body in a wave of tingling before dissipating. I laid there in the pitch-darkness; were my eyes even open? There were smells but too many, too strong to make sense of them. My nose played with separating one and identifying it, but it always slipped through my fingers before I got a name.

I drifted in and out of unconsciousness. The scenery never changed. There was no light. Could have been midday for all I knew. At least the fuzziness was going away; when I flexed my paw, I could move and feel each individual toe.

And I could smell.

Dragons.

I forced myself to stagger through the dark. My mouth hung open so I could taste those scents better. So many scents . . . but I only cared about one (Maybe two? Maybe I had jumped to conclusions and Skullcrusher was waiting for me to find him. . .). But in all the smells I found, none of them had the icy coldness of a Night Fury.

I ran straight into a dragon. Typhoomerang? Yes, must have been. I mapped her flank out with my wings and paws, then climbed onto her back. She didn't move or acknowledge me. Up there, I could sense the space was less crowded; the other dragons must have been lying down, too.

"Toothless?" I called. "Toothless? Skullcrusher?"

I expected my voice to echo. It did, but not nearly as much as expected. How many of us were down here?

My neck tensed. I didn't know how to use the echo-location roar, but I was hoping that raising my pitch would be enough to trigger it.

And so, I roared.

It didn't work at first, but I kept raising the pitch of my roar until I sensed something. My tendrils and ears stuck out, catching the returning sound and painting a silver image in my mind. The image's depth was . . . limited. The roar traced out curves and stuff close to me, but anything more than half the room away appeared as flat.

The room was stuffed with dragons. It wasn't as bad where I had been dropped off near the entrance, but the further you got, the more crowded it became until there didn't seem to be any room. There –

"Toothless!"

I must have leapt at least five times my body length. Landing smack-dab in the center of his back, I buried my snout –

Not him.

I sniffed some more, and more, hoping that the initial smell had been a fluke. It wasn't. It wasn't him.

My stomach dropped. I leaned my weight into the stranger, and closed my eyes. All these dragons . . . and not a single one was him. I'd lost him. Toothless was gone.

Review Response:

Nightfury153: Well, from the author's perspective, I'm glad I made you cry. From a more friendly perspective, I feel a little bad about it (lol not really. Making people cry was totally my goal for last chapter)

.

Snowflake: It's super-effective!

.

Jazz: Probably not. According to the wiki, the Louts actually abandoned their island in the book (seriously, who wanted to build their village on an active volcano?)

Because horned sheep cute?

I seriously debated whether to kill her off or not, but eventually I decided it made more sense story-wise. Both Hiccup and Stoick needed that push/motivation for their upcoming parts in the Drago arc. But hey! At least I listened to you guys and didn't kill off Stoick during that scene!

.

SaltiQuill: Considering that Hiccup was the one who found her again and the complicated relationship between the two, I thought he should be the one to really "deal the final blow", so to speak. Plus, like Stoick said, it was much more fitting to have Valka's pyre lit by a dragon.

And yes. It was totally a trap.

.

Guest: :)