000
Oh she was going to kill him.
No.
Killing him would be too merciful. Perhaps she would just torture him a bit. Tie him up in iron chains to a tree somewhere deep in the forest where no one could possibly hear his screams as she slowly tortures him.
That's what he deserved for meddling in Berk's affairs three days ago. Only the next morning, after spending a night in the Great Hall with her intact family, did they get a glimpse of the extent of the Night Fury's interference. Most of their catapults, their one main defense against the dragon scourge, were destroyed; remnants of them scattered the fields and streets of the village. The chained nets used to hold down the beasts were in pieces. Normal fire attacks didn't do any damage to them; but the Night Fury's blasts were strong enough to break links in them, allowing the incapacitated dragons to use their brute strength to rip the remaining net apart. But the last strike was the look of fear on the faces of Vikings who were in close proximity to the Night Fury's air dives and blasts. Now, they had been fighting dragons for hundreds of years - three hundred years and eight generations to be exact - but in that time, had they been scared of the beasts? Maybe a few odd ones in the first generation. Apart from that, no Viking had an ounce of fear when staring down a five ton fire-breathing dragon. Not for the last eight generations.
But last night changed all of that.
She had not seen fear on so many of her fellow villagers' faces. And it was all caused by that Jormung and his Night Fury.
What other reaction should they have? The Night Fury was the most deadly dragon ever to roam the skies. There was no record of it. Neither her, nor her village, have ever heard of someone ever surviving an encounter with a Night Fury. And she suspected that if the Jormung wasn't its rider, it would have mauled all of them back on Changewing Isle without hesitation. All it did that night was break up the fights between Viking and dragon, allowing those beasts to fly off and live another day instead of their warriors putting them down once and for all.
That Jormung wasn't there to see the look on their Chief's face once the dragons had left. "It was the Jormung you captured, wasn't it?" He had asked her in the Great Hall. With the common occurrence of dragon attacks, most, if not all of Berk's wooden huts, would at some point be set on fire. As a result, past and current Chiefs assigned each family a large chest which would store extra bed sheets, blankets, and clothes, which would be kept within the Great Hall's many storerooms and empty corridors. This idea allowed the families of burnt down homes to stay in decent comfort within the Great Hall once a new hut was built.
Thankfully, if there was one thing Vikings were efficient in constructing, it was homes. Which was why almost every hut in Berk looked brand new.
"Yes it was, Chief."
"And now it appears the Jormung has set its eyes on terrorizing Berk with that infernal demon beast of his." They were in the Great Hall, helping others get settled down for a few days, just until the reconstruction of their homes would be completed.
"I'm sorry, Chief." She averted her gaze. "If I had the resolve to end that Jormung's life I-"
"Don't Astrid." He cut her off, halting them in their tracks and facing her. "Don't ever blame yourself for situations you aren't in control of. If it wasn't for that second Jormung and Dagur interfering, we wouldn't be in this situation. You did everything you could there, and I know you go above and beyond when protecting this village. Berk couldn't be in safer hands." He smiled, getting the same reaction out of her.
"Thank you, Chief."
"No problem, Astrid. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go oversee the plans for reconstructing the homes and bolstering our defenses. That Night Fury really did a number on our weapons." He turned to leave. "Oh, and before I forget. Please. Don't hesitate to ask me for help. You, or your parents. I haven't the faintest idea what you all are going through right now." He glanced to her family, who were all huddled around Brenna. Astrid followed his gaze, seeing her mother clutching Brenna to her chest and weeping; her father, his arm in a sling and completely bandaged up with cuts and scrapes here and there on his face.
"Thank you, sir. And don't worry. I'll come to you if we're in desperate need of anything." He nodded, and marched off to his duties. Guess there really was no rest for a Chief when your village was under constant attack by dragons, and the threat of attack from rogue tribes. She turned back to her family, looking at Brenna, and remembering their conversation when she found her the previous night.
"The one with lizard eyes?"
"Yeah. He said he friends with you." Her little arm wiped away a few tears running down her cheek. Astrid couldn't believe it. She looked around them, hoping no one else heard what her baby sister said. Luckily it appeared no one did. Ruffnut was preoccupied with directing the fire teams. And she was a good distance away. But even so, she was her friend. She knew Ruff would confront her privately if she did overhear it.
Astrid turned back to her sister, cupping her cheek and slowly raising her face to meet her eyes. "I'm so glad you're safe!" She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "And I'm glad he saved you. But listen to me Brenna, you have to keep him a secret okay? Not even mama and papa can know about him."
"Why? He saved me!"
"I know Brenna, I know. Do you trust me?"
"Yes big sissy." Astrid smiled.
"Then promise me, Brenna." She looked right into sister's eyes, "No one can know about him okay? No one can know about Hiccup."
She could tell her sister wanted to argue about it. Instead, she promised she'd explain later about why she couldn't tell anyone about the Jormung. It was mostly for her own protection. If the Chief got wind of it, he'd spend a good portion of time interrogating Brenna; which she didn't want to put her sister through.
Which was why she alone was currently marching to their last meeting spot.
She was going to rip that idiot a new one.
He might have saved her sister. But what if someone had seen him rescuing her? What if he had been captured in the process? And why did she care if he was captured? No other man has ever had her so riled up and confused about her feelings towards him.
Another thing she hated him for.
"I know you're here!" She called out. With the majority of villagers preoccupied with the reconstruction of huts, hers included, she felt comfortable venturing out on her own and searching for her 'friend', as he so lightly suggested they were. "Come on Jormung! I know you can hear me!" She waited again, searching the forest for the slightest twig snap, leaf rustle, and labored breathing with her trained hearing. "Would you show your-"
"Sheesh, alright already. I heard you the first time." She heard the sounds of rustling bushes and snapping branches to her left, where he exited out from a few bushes. She unsheathed her ax, letting it rest in front of her, both hands at ease on the handle. Although, her relaxed stance did nothing to stop his glance at the weapon. "I thought we were over this already. You can't kill me."
"I'm not here to kill you."
"So you just stand there with your ax out, just waiting for your friends, I'm taking? And you call us weird."
She rolled her eyes. "It's a habit. I never go anywhere without this." She holstered the ax on her back.
"Why are you even here? You made it pretty clear that you were done meeting with me."
Right. Her reason for hiking all this way through the thick forest when she technically should be helping around the village. She breathed a long, hard sigh. "I'm here to say...thank you." She cast her eyes away and mumbled the last part. When she met his eyes, she immediately regretted it. He was smirking. Smirking. She decided then and there that she never wanted to see that expression on his face again.
"What was that?" He was making her repeat herself.
"I'm sorry. I thought a Jormung's senses were a hundred times more sensitive than a normal human's like me?"
"Wow. You were actually listening to me while I was talking? There's hope for you yet."
"Look. I know our last meeting wasn't so chummy-"
"Chummy's an understatement."
"And I may have not been completely willing to hear you out - but I had good reason not to."
"And why is that? Hm? Because dragons are mindless killing beasts without a soul?" She definitely felt her eye twitch at his attitude towards dragons. He may have grown with dragons all his life, but that certainly meant he must have seen the wild side of those beasts at some point in his young life.
"Are you forgetting that those beasts nearly killed my sister? And I would have put at least a few of them out of their misery if not for you?"
"If not for me...that's hilarious. If it wasn't for me, Berk would have a few dead villagers on its hands, not that any of you cared anyway. It's fight and die in the name of glory, or ancestors, or love or whatever else you lot choose to raise your weapons to. Isn't it? How many Vikings died?"
"What?"
"How many Vikings died in the raid I interfered in? How many?" He waited. She thought back to the night of the raid, the events that took place after the dragons had departed Berk. She had carried Brenna to the Great Hall where the majority of the injured were gathered. Apart from burns, bite marks, broken bones and bruises - nothing out of the ordinary on a given raid - there were no covered bodies. No family curled over their father, mother, son, daughter, uncle; weeping their hearts out. And she had most certainly not witnessed any funeral in the past three days.
"None." She answered.
"None." He echoed. "How many Vikings died in the raid before the one three days ago?" That she didn't need time to think.
"Three."
"And the one before that?"
"Two."
"So you're telling me there have always been casualties during these raids, hm?" She nodded in response. "Then shouldn't you be thankful that no one had to lay any loved one to rest this time? In the raid I interfered in?"
"Okay, but that was just one night. Are you just going to keep butting in every single raid that takes place from now on? Because Berk knows what you are- My Chief knows what you are. They know the dragon you ride - which mind you, Berk hasn't seen in the past two hundred years - and I can guarantee you that eventually, Berk will concentrate all its efforts on capturing you. Dead. Or Alive."
"Then you would've started a battle you already lost." He frowned. "No one has ever been able to capture me while I'm on Toothless."
"Key word is yet. Don't underestimate Berk. That's what got you in this mess in the first place. Getting captured by me." She smirked. Despite her disapproval at the misconceptions of her being spread around the Archipelago and in further, more traditional Viking tribes closer to the mainland, Snotlout did mention that her success of capturing a Jormung didn't go unnoticed. Guess she really had to thank Eret for something after all. She suspected that he was the source of that story; while making sure to paint as much of himself in the canvas as possible.
"In my defense I was handicapped." The look Astrid gave him was nothing short of disbelief, confusion and believe it or not, offense.
"You're. A. Jormung." She emphasized each word. "You're physically stronger than me. You're senses are more aware than mine. You had a bloody Night Fury! By Thor's Hammer, taking me and the trappers on should have been easy for you!"
"It should have been easy, yes...IF I had proper weapon and hand-to-hand combat training and was ruthless like Ripper." He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. He still wondered why the blonde in front of him was staring at him as if he'd sprouted wings and a tail.
"You had a flaming sword!"
"I'm a smith by profession. I can forge weapons but I never concentrated my efforts in learning how to fight with them."
"You have got to be kidding me." She smacked her forehead in realization. "Are you telling me, that you, a Jormung, who are supposed to be some of the most fierce and deadly warriors on the battlefield as told in the legends, don't know how to fight?"
"Ehh...you're making it sound more worse than it is." He shrugged his shoulders. He recoiled in brief shock when she grabbed her head with both hands, hands nearly threatening the roots of her hair, and suppressed a rather loud yell. "Is something the matter?" This time he nearly took off running at the death glare she gave him.
"I believed I had bested a Jormung in battle. Even though I was wondering why it was rather easy to take you down. But now it all makes sense. You can't fight. Ugh!"
"Still not getting the point here." His initial shock at her worrisome anger wearing out.
"You can't fight!" She faced him.
"Yes you already establish-"
"No! I didn't get the fight I wanted! I wanted the challenge! I wanted a fight! I thought I'd be testing my blade against, up until that point, a legendary fighter! That's the entire reason I agreed to join those dragon trappers to find you! Only to find out weeks later that my greatest accomplishment is a hoax!"
"Vikings really like to give everything the hatchet, huh?" He was ecstatic that they were finally having a decent conversation. Not so much his non-existent combat skills being the topic of said conversation. "I'm sorry I disappointed you. Really I am. But now you know why there were rumours on why one Jormung always kept escaping instead of fighting."
After coming down from her realization, she took pause to hear his words; instead of reacting, she gauged his expression, finally noting the dejected look in his...dragon eyes. "So, what do you want from me?" She figured she was the reason he didn't leave. Despite her warnings. The Jormung looked up at her, a brief flash of promise in his eyes.
"It's not like you'd agree to it."
"You're right. I wouldn't. Not after what you did that night." He was about to argue with her again, but she cut him off, "You might have prevented a few deaths, but you destroyed our defenses! Not damaged. Destroyed. What are we going to do when the dragons come again? What do we do if another tribe decides to attack us in the next few days? Did that ever cross your mind during your little hero phase?"
No. He hadn't. He didn't think of that. He was only concerned with keeping casualties to a minimum for both sides. But in the process, he had painted the Vikings as the enemy in the matter, dealing the greatest damage to their only defenses.
"And let's not forget that you said I was your friend! I know you did that to soothe my sister, but did you ever stop to think what would have happened if someone overheard her speaking to me about you? Not only would you have put her and I under our Chief's suspicions, it would have brought an even greater shame on family to be even be associated with a dragon-lover."
"Even if it meant I risked my life to save your kin?" He looked at her from underneath his bangs.
"You're missing the bigger picture. You put yourself at risk of getting caught, along with my sister. She might be a child, but she'd still be interrogated by the Chief and the Council about you. Could you imagine the sort of questions they'd ask her, and believe me when I say most of them are not the patient type."
"I'm sorry. I didn't think of that. As you know my Viking relations are non-existent. Which is why I'd like to propose a deal." This was it. If she didn't accept his proposal, he'd have no choice but to leave.
"I'm listening."
"I would like you to teach me about Viking customs, and train me to fight...And in return, I'll teach you everything I know about dragons."
She wasn't expecting that. Teach him Viking customs and training him to fight? And what business did she have learning about dragons. She hated the damned beasts.
"Please, Astrid." He looked at her with desperate eyes. "I have no home to go back to. The only other Jormung in existence despises me. I'm constantly on the run for my life with no fighting capability whatsoever. I dread the day that Toothless gets captured and I'm the only one left to save him." He took the plunge and closed the distance between them, until only two steps separated them. Both knew she could attack him if she felt like it, but he was taking the risk to put his trust in her. "Even though you were the one to capture me, you were the only one who's treated me like a living being. You saved me and the rest of the men on that ship, so I have good reason to always believe you'll make the right choice in tough situations. But also, you're the only one willing to hear me out. You said you really hate dragons, but I can show you their other side. The side you don't see when both of you are at sword and teeth's edge. Please, Astrid."
She didn't like it. She didn't like the idea of being associated with him in the event someone stumbled upon him. But then again, he had experience hiding. Until he got comfortable. She supposed she could train him. Survival skills and combat skills. Given his underwhelming performance during their first encounter, of course he'd want to improve on that. Then again, she did owe him. He saved her sister after all. And perhaps she could use his knowledge of dragons to help Berk. All she had to do was make sure no one would know of her extra-curricular activities with him.
She just hoped her decision wouldn't come back to haunt her, and raised out her right hand out.
"Alright. I'll help you."
000
It had been nearly two weeks since he parted ways with Hiccup for a second time. Ripper didn't waste any time returning to his home to resume his on-the-run life away from all manners of Viking. And for a while, he was at ease. His routine would consist of sparring with Bladewing in the mornings, experiment with aerial tactics and maneuvers, capped off with a good old evening of fishing. The only times he would ever venture out to settlements was to steal furs and leather for warmth and clothing, food for variety - fish and boar everyday did get boring - and last but not least...alcohol. Usually a few barrels of ale and mead. He would swipe a wine barrel once in a while if he was feeling particularly fancy. And it wasn't like anyone could catch him. He had mastered the skill of slipping into towns, houses and storage houses unnoticed; even in the bright of day.
Life was good.
Until dragon hunters started showing up, their ships' hulls filled to the brim with remnants of dragons - meat, bones, skin, scales, claws and trophies.
He had been familiar enough with the area to know this wasn't dragon hunter territory. It couldn't have been a coincidence that dragon hunters suddenly showed up after his run in with the Berserker Chief. And his suspicions were confirmed one day during one of his strolls in the village of a neighbouring island. Pinned to a notice board in the centre of the market by a dagger, was a parchment that detailed rewards for any kind of dragon - dead. Signed by the Berserker Chief.
He was livid. The sight of a dead dragon always stirred horrible memories. However, he always moved on, lest he draw attention to himself.
That was until hunters rowed ashore one night on his island in the dead of night.
At first the hunters were excited about a new haul of dragons. Until they encountered him. Dragons were one thing, but capturing a Jormung would settle them for life. They held up the sheet that detailed the reward for capturing a Jormung. It was the last thing they ever did.
Ripper and Bladewing slaughtered those who roamed the island, while Frostbite sunk the hunter ship that had anchored a distance away from the island. Ripper concluded that Dagur wouldn't give up so easily. The bounties for dragons and his head indicated that. However, he assumed that the Berserker wouldn't dare come after him if he held something, or someone, the Berserker Chief loved.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Of course! We steal something important to him and he wouldn't dare come close to us again."
"Are you even sure he cares about anyone at all?"
"All Vikings have something, or someone, they care about, Bladewing. We just have to find out what."