i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry

I'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry! I know it's been like, three weeks since I updated and I feel terrible! Also, the title will make sense later. SPOILER ALERT: (stoickwontdie) Enjoy…

"That's the signal Striker!" Pache said, hoping Gabe heard it. They were so far away from each other that to each other they were merely specks in the sky. But, they had to if the plan was going to go right.

Luckily, on the other side of the battle the young boy heard Valka just fine. "C'mon Fortress. Let's go!" He called out, trying to make a good roar sound. It didn't sound anything draconic, but children will try.

Both kids charged forward, each with at least two fleets of dragons behind them. They were working their way up, attacking any trapper or enemy in front of them. While a pair of them were fighting, the others would overlap and take the ones in front. Then, it would repeat. At the same time, Valka gestured her own fleet forward, but didn't charge in herself.

"M-mom. Aren't we supposed to…"

"I'm staying back to help the Alpha. You two help Gabriel and Pache." Valka noticed the stutter in her son's voice. It was even foreign sounding to her, the word "mom."

"If you're staying back, so am I." Stoick said, hopping onto the back of the Stormcutter.

"No, what if…"

"We're a team now, Val. I'm not losing you again." He cut of his wife, determined to stay with her.

"I'll go help with the others." Hiccup said. The three looked over at the army, noticing the mixture of armies. Ainstatia, Berk, the nest, dragon riders, and Freyja were all against Drago's army. By the looks of it, the enemy didn't stand a chance. Already, ⅖ of the army seemed to be gone, while hardly anyone on their side was killed or wounded. If someone was captured, the next moment they would be freed.

Hiccup redead to take off, and as he did his father called out, "Don't go chasing after that madman!"

He turned back and called, "Don't worry dad! I'm not that stupid." Father and Son smirked, and they flew their separate directions.

Hiccup had experienced war enough times to know that not everyone can be persuaded with a simple peaceful talk. He had tried it once before, and it had gotten many good people killed. He was not going to make that mistake again. Not if he could help it.

On the way toward the hoard of dragons, he saw Astrid on the ground. She wasn't hurt or anything, as far as he knew, but she was just… sitting there. Riding down, he landed beside her.

"Astrid?" He asked, getting off of Toothless. "Is everything okay?"

She looked at him, and he recognized that look. "I want to hurt someone very badly right now." It was the hormones kicking in. She leaned over the side of Stormfly, and threw up. "Very badly."

"It's alright Astrid. Why don't you just sit this one out?"

She glared at him. "And why do you think I would do that? I'm not leaving Pache, not again. And you don't have the right to make me leave! You think you can just…"

Hiccup cut her off by kissing her. It didn't taste well, since she just puked, but he didn't care. He'd tasted worse. Astrid leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know you want to fight for our daughter and Berk. You trained for things like this, but you can't do this while you're a couple months pregnant. I'm concerned for you and our baby."

She looked down at their feet, realizing he was right. "I can't help it. I just…"

He kissed her again, briefly. "I know. You can fight if you want, but just…" He tilted her chin up, making eye contact " … be careful."

She smiled up at him. "Aww, but it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

They laughed, and separated, heading to their dragons. "Good luck, milady."

"You too, Hiccup. And make sure Pache gets out safely."

"Don't worry. We all will." He said, and Toothless bounded into the sky, leaving a smiling Astrid behind.

Pache flew through the sky, surveying the area in case a net or some other trap was unseen by Striker. As she was doing that, the Skrill would fire at the ground, freeing dragons and injuring the enemy. They were almost halfway through their destination, and it felt good to truly feel like you were going to win.

"Top left, vertical!" The young girl shouted, and Striker maneuvered out of the way of a boulder. It clipped the end of her tail slightly, and she swerved slightly before getting her bearings back.

"A faster warning next time, please." The dragon said, obviously slightly annoyed.

"Sorry, it's just a little hard keeping my concentration."

Striker sighed/grumbled. "Look, I know your arm is broken. But we have to keep going if we're going to save everyone." Pache looked down at her dragon, who was looking at her from the corner of her eye.

She looked back up. "I… LOOK OUT!" Pache shouted, but it was too late. The razor net that was coming toward them fully collided.

Striker couldn't flap her wings without getting really scratched by the tight rope, and Pache couldn't do anything in general. The scars on her back stung with the force of the trap getting pressed against her. They both roared as they fell, unable to do anything about it.

Like it had been for a while now, control had been stripped from them.

They crashed into the ground, the force from the impact causing Pache's ears to ring. The Skrill tangled up in the net with her was thrashing around, trying to get out. The little girl reached for her dragon's snout, knowing the touch would calm her down. She reached her head, and pressed her palm against the warm scaled.

It worked, and the dragon stopped thrashing. By then they were already badly knotted together with the razor netting, and trappers were coming fast. One suddenly seemed to pop up behind Striker, raising his sword for a killing blow.

"No!" Pache said, raising awareness with her dragon. The two felt endangered, and so the lightning fell down. The guard shouted in pain, and dropped down, singed from the contact.

But that wasn't all the bolt hit. It also hit the sharp metal wired around the tangled mess Pache and Striker were in. Unharmed, Striker looked down at her rider, who was making a pained face, and whining. "Pache!"

The lightning had gotten to her. Only when meant to be used does the power of a bonded get used without causing harm to the user. But after realizing that the young girl might have just killed another, she couldn't bear it. So, Pache tried to stop it, but her dragon was still fixed on it.

Dreamstriker had just unintentionally electrocuted her own rider.

And the electricity coursing through the large trap she was entwined in was not helping.

"Pache!" The dragon called out once again, getting even more frightened.

When the young girl passed out, she didn't know what to do. Using lightning as a defense would be a terrible choice, but using fire would burn her. Trying to writhe her way out would only cause the netting to scratch them even more, and flying out while surrounded by humans would only get them shot. They were stuck. Trapped. And she couldn't protect them.

Pache, a simple young hatchling, had done so much for me. I am highly respected in the nest of Freyja and on the land of Berk by both dragons and humans. When kicked out of my family I thought I was alone forever. A rogue, without family. When the Red Death took control of her I didn't resist. What was the point?

Then, the queen was defeated and the two new alphas came in. Not long after they returned with a hatchling, belonging to the human leader. It was difficult having a human child around. The frail, soft skins that could burn so easily, and tear when meeting hard scales, claws, teeth, or horns. Being careful so the child wouldn't fall off a cliff or fall down a slope of rocks. She would crawl to me, and I would try to avoid touching her, calling her father down to gather her.

But as the baby grew, she became smarter, and learned what to avoid, and what to be careful of. She learned the elder dragons weren't very welcoming to younger hatchlings, and mothers were very protective of their children. The girl was frail, fragile, even though she appeared happy many times. The dragons her age would avoid her, thinking she was weird. They would very rarely play with her, so she didn't have any real best friends to hang out with a lot. She would hide her pain well, but at night her screams of agony could be heard throughout many parts of the nest, and the daily gossip only spread what happened.

Sometimes she would hang out with me, and I wouldn't mind her company. For some reason, it felt right when she would lay against me.

Eventually, one night, It was raining out, and the child was screaming. I found her annoying at first, though I never told her this, and never will. I pitied her, and knew she couldn't help it, but I valued my sleep. So, I went outside to try and rest. The storm kept me awake. I loved the thrill of the pounding drops and couldn't help it. I rode the bolts that flew down from the sky, seeing which ones were too fast to catch, and which ones were slow enough to explode through.

I remember landing on a ledge, with a cave opening. I didn't know why, but I had a feeling that couldn't be ignored. Looking into the cave, I saw the alpha's daughter, sitting up in bed, her tear-stained face staring at me. She slowly crawled out of bed, then abruptly ran up to hug me. I was surprised, but the embrace was warm, comforting. I looked down and saw the scale on her neck, a purple version of the random gold one I had.

There were legends, tall tales, urban legends, of The Bonded. I was never one for fairy tales, and I didn't know much about it. But I do now. And that moment, all those years ago, when she hugged me, I knew we were sisters. One soul in two bodies. One in the same.

Seeing her sitting here, passed out from the very bolts that had helped her long ago, hurts more than I could have imagined. I am scared. What am I supposed to do?

I can't do anything. And that burns me up.

I looked around, seeing if there was anything I could take advantage of. But it was no use. Even if there was a break in the trappers circling me, I am too tangled to escape, and it would be difficult carrying Pache with my injuries. I would, not to mention, have to be very careful handling my rider. She has a very injured arm, a bloodies, scabbed back, and cuts all over her. I know the pains she hides, even though no one else can see them.

Walking toward me, in my blurred vision, was a tall, dark figure with a staff like Valka's. Except this one seemed to be intended for darker purposes than communicating with dragons, and hopping into Cloudjumper.

He was quick, though he appeared slow, and walked oddly with his shoulders. He had one of them… only one. He only had one arm. The other, the prosthetic, was covered with a… night fury skin.

And despite all of its old scents dwindling, I could sense he was part of Alpha Toothless's family.

He towered above me, and I realized that the man wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Pache. "Stay back." I growled. He wasn't getting her. Not while I can still breath.

"Quiet!" he oddly growled back. It was good dragonese, though he obviously couldn't speak the full language. It was a powerful voice, full of fear and determination. I could feel my eyes slitting, and upon further inspection, I could see that he had the same look as the red death had.

It scared me.

I don't know why but… I-I can't help but bow. He put his foot on my nose, and said in his own language, "You belong to me now." With one last shove, he walked back a few feet. "Take off the netting! Tie this beast up! It'll be useful to us." He looked down at Pache again, and walked forward to her. I wanted to lash out, but I couldn't. His aura had control over me.

He grabbed the unconscious girl by her collar, and took her from my protective grasp. I can't protect her. I could never protect her like she always protected me. On Alvin's boat when she sacrificed herself to let me go and get help, and when I was made fun of because of my red wing pattern instead of the usual light purple on other skrills.

She was always there for me. A young hatchling, changing my life. It's a ridiculous thought, but…

The man now had his staff raised to her neck, and I couldn't help but think that if he accidentally dropped her, the only thing left to fall on other than the ground would be the sharp point. Pache was and is my only family. We're sisters!

And this man didn't deserve to hold her fragile self in his hands, nevertheless touch her.

So, I did what only a lunatic would do when facing a madman.

I lunged at him, jaws open.