Hello, everyone! Here's one last update for the New Year!

I'd like to thank picothea, CallMeUrmo, Marce7411, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, Viperclaw14, MysteryWriter175, IDK justreading, and Silverleone for your wonderful reviews! I always say this, but I truly appreciate you all taking the time to leave comments. Also, I have heard that this website is now going for "opt-in notifications", so if you are not getting any, make sure your account settings are fixed!

I'd also like to thank my betas Dys, LapisSea, Crysist, Anticept, Kwizjunior, Samateus, R-S, and Crusader Dragon for all of your work!

I hope you all enjoy, and have a great day!

Chapter 21

Hiccup

The night that passed after our remembrance of the fallen Shadow-Blenders was marked only by the slight dimming of the skylight above. Toothless curled around me, clutching me to his heart. The two of us slept fitfully inside the entrance to the nest, a hollow vigil amongst the ashes that shimmered in the dim light.

The soft swish of claws upon stone jolted both of us to wake, but when Toothless uncurled and swung around, it was only Farflight.

He set down several fish at the entrance, careful not to cross it, and nosed it over the edge. Eyes bleak, he nodded and turned to leave, tail dragging on the ground.

"Wait!" I said. "Do you want to share?"

He snapped upright with an enormous smile. "I was hoping you'd ask!" he said, bounding straight into the cavern over to us. He snapped up a fish. While crunching around the bones and fins, he added with a sly grin, "Oh, and Mother wants to talk to you, Hiccup."

His childishly-giddy "you're in trouble" tone sent irrational fear—or maybe not—washing through me. I tugged my Shadow-Blender hood further down over my face. "I think I know why," I muttered.

"Really?! What is it? Mother won't tell me!"

Toothless curled his tail around me in reassurance. "I won't let anything happen," he said, his voice just as empty as the cavern around us.

We finished our breakfast, Farflight pestering me to "tell him" the whole time. I did everything I could to awkwardly dodge the question, from suddenly changing the subject to trying to say that I had changed my mind about knowing. He didn't believe me. When we were done, too soon in my opinion, he nipped and nudged us to get us moving, grumbling all the while about being treated like a yearling.

Like before, Farflight led us out, offering his tail to me to hold on to. I grabbed it in a hand, using my other three legs to carefully duck around the stones that pressed in from every angle. When I squeezed out, I turned around to wait for my brother.

Toothless hesitated, head low, ears pressed flat against his head. He watched the ash-pile for a moment longer, took in a deep breath, and turned away. I held out a hand towards him, and as he approached, he ran his nose along my hand and arm, curling closer and closer until my arm was swung around his neck. I twisted and grasped him tight in my arms, and he buried his head into my chest, shuddering.

"It is fine," I mumbled in his ear. "It is fine...it is fine…"

Farflight stood a ways ahead of us, pretending to be fascinated by a pebble on the ground. When Toothless was ready and broke the embrace, he wordlessly held his tail out, waited for me to take hold of it, and led us out.

Galewing waited for us in their nest, lying in a patch of sunlight coming in from the cave entrance. The day was clear—too clear for us to fly—and a chill breeze wafted in, bringing with it the smell of storms and earth. She lifted her head, looked directly at me, and said, "Come."

Toothless narrowed his eyes. "What is this?" he barked.

I put a hand on his neck. "It's okay," I said. After all, if she had figured me out and wanted to kill me, she probably would have done so already. At the very least, she would have never allowed Farflight to go anywhere close to me.

Galewing and I stepped into the sunlit entrance of the cavern, while Farflight and Toothless both sat not too far away and blatantly stared at us. Craning her neck low, Galewing took in my scent. She studied me.

Finally, she said low and quiet, "You are a human." She leaned forward, hooked the edge of my hood with her nose, and flipped it over. Farflight gasped.

Though I tried to meet her stare, my heart clenched and my chest tightened. "It's...complicated," I said. "I was once a Shadow-Blender, but was changed back with magic."

"Against his will, I will add," Toothless said. Again there was a harsh, rude, warning note in his voice, but Galewing seemed to be giving him the benefit of the doubt. She did not react at all, even though most dragons would be at least a little angry to have a stranger growling at them in their own nest.

Galewing never took her gaze from mine, searching for a lie. Her eyes traced over my Shadow-Blender hood, my scale-sewn armor, my wings folded at my back, the shed claws sewn into my boots. "You wish to be a dragon again." I nodded, and she asked, "If magic was used to shape you, can you not use it again?"

"Yes," I said. "I want to. I will, eventually."

Now she was baffled. "You can change, but choose not to?"

"That's stupid!" Farflight cried, trotting over. He shoved his nose against me, sniffing all over like we hadn't met before. "You're so small now. And you have fur." He nuzzled my hair and sneezed when a strand blew up into his nose. "Why stay like this?"

I grimaced. "It's not bad," I half-lied. "Even when it's hard, I've learned to be happy like...this." I gestured at all of me, staunchly trying to ignore that while what I said was true, a deeper, selfish, more insecure part of me twitched and writhed at every mention of not being a dragon when I could be one. "Besides, I have responsibilities. Family."

Galewing's expression fell. "Ah…" she hummed. "But do they not understand?"

The immediate "yes" died on my tongue. My shoulders drooped. "They...try to. Sort of."

I hated the pitying look she gave me and turned away to avoid it.

"I think that's silly," Farflight said. "If you were changed when you didn't want to, and you are a dragon, and you can, then why not?"

Because of Dad. Because of Snotlout, I thought traitorously, and I despised it.

But it was the truth. To become a dragon would change my relationship with my family forever. Remembering Dad's sad looks and Snotlout's anger, part of me was afraid it would be for the worse.

I knew that wasn't fair to them. I knew it wasn't fair to me. But the thought of changing without closure, the permanency of it…

It was something that I tried to avoid as much as possible, even though I knew that helped nobody. In truth...it was scary. And exciting. And intimidating. And like all things in my life, completely twisted up and complicated.

Toothless wanted me to talk to Dad about it. But how could I possibly bring something like that up? What was there to say, without making him feel guilty? How could I say that the only reason I held back was because I wasn't ready for that shift in our relationship, that I feared something would go wrong?

Another unwelcome, unfair thought slithered to my attention: what if Dad or Snotlout tried in earnest to convince me not to change?

I was so silent that Toothless came to my rescue. "It's very complicated," he said, padding over. "Hiccup is the reason that humans and dragons in our land live together in peace. He has had to work very hard for that between both groups."

Galewing looked incredulous. "Humans and dragons...together?"

"Yes," I said, leaping on the change in subject. "No dragons are hunted there. We live, hunt, and defend our nest together."

Farflight stared in amazement. "Wow…" He thought for a moment, and then blurted, "Can we go there? Please?"

Galewing wrinkled her nose. "I do not want to live with humans."

The way she said it as a curse sent another pang through my chest. "They're not like the ones here," I said. "Humans and dragons are a lot more alike than you might think."

She huffed. "The humans here are cruel. They hunt us as prey." She faced Toothless and me. "Because of that, I must ask you two to leave."

"No!" Farflight cried in dismay.

Toothless and I, however, didn't protest. Galewing had eggs here, and now we were known and hunted in these mountains. I had a feeling we had already overstayed our welcome, but out of respect for Toothless' grief, she had allowed us to stay.

Besides, we had work to do. Though the thought made me nervous, we needed to find Dad and Haugaeldr.

"We understand," Toothless said. "And...thank you. For showing us…"

He bowed his head. I wrapped an arm around his neck, drawing him closer.

"I wish I could tell you more," Galewing said, her head drooping. "But I've no idea where they went, and only truly knew Starcatcher."

"Moooother, please don't make them go!" Farflight begged. "I want to hear more about their nest!" He curled around Toothless and I like he might cling to our legs and keep us from leaving. Judging by the way his tail snaked between my legs, that seemed a lot less like a hypothetical situation and more of an actual plan of his.

"Can we go tonight?" I asked. I gestured outside. "We are easily seen flying in the day, especially with no clouds. I don't want anyone to see us come out of your nest."

She considered this and nodded. "That would be for the best. I will give you directions to wherever you need to go."

So, after getting a good description of the villages we needed to avoid and where the ocean was, we spent the day as most dragons with nothing better to do did: telling stories.

Farflight exploded with infinite questions about our nest. Every story and description brought out overwhelming bouts of questions. He listened with huge eyes, and when I finally got up and found a stone to scratch drawings on the walls, he hovered just over my shoulder, enraptured. He tried drawing himself, but could only manage to make a scribble. Still, he was proud of it, asking his mother over and over if she saw it.

"Yes, my love, I see it," she laughed each time.

We told them of my first transformation into a dragon. Toothless and I learning not to hate each other, but to form an unsteady friendship that blossomed into love and family. Being hunted by my own tribe, my own father. The Queen and her fall. The tensions on Berk, the shadow that haunted me. Drago and the shadow-nest, and how the near-apocalypse brought on by the source somehow did what we could not: unifying dragons and Vikings. All of this, Farflight clung to each word with wonder, mouth agape, eyes shining, staring wistfully at my drawings.

We told them of our journey. Of leaving Berk behind with an argument lingering over our heads. The Book of Dragonese, and our success in teaching Dad to recognize and produce dragon-tongue. Meeting the sea-dragon. Speaking with her about her eggs, the dangerous humans here, and…

"The Shell?" Galewing repeated. "I've heard of that nest before."

Toothless perked up for the first time that day. "What is it? Could it be where the Shadow-Blenders went?"

She shrugged her massive wings. "Starcatcher seemed to know of it. She mentioned it in passing, such as encountering a dragon from the Shell during her long flights. But no dragon has ever come from there, and I have heard of many stories of dragons trying to approach the territory, only to be driven away."

"Can you...can you tell us about her?" Toothless asked shyly, head ducked, eyes huge.

Galewing smiled. "Of course."

Starcatcher had been a lively dragon. In her youth, she and Galewing would adventure together, flying through the mountains, exploring the valleys and caverns that ran deep in them. She told us of a cave of glowing worms that spun shimmering, silken strings that glistened in the dark. Of an underground lake and river that nearly swept Galewing to her death when she fell in. Stumbling upon the nest of an angry snow leopard. Sneaking after a lost mule that bleated its entire way back to the village it came from.

In describing her early years, Galewing explained to us their naming customs here: that a dragon does not earn their name, but is bestowed it as a gift upon hatching, usually from the mother. It was meant to be good luck. Galewing's mother named her to give her wings power. Galewing named Farflight in hopes that he would always stay safe and strong.

Starcatcher's mother valued wonder, it sounded like, and she truly lived up to it. Always sniffing around, always asking questions, a vibrant dragoness with a dangerous curiosity. That was how she found her mate, Galewing explained, flying so far off that she came back days later with a stranger. If he had a name, Galewing never heard it. He was a stiff dragon, always so serious, never quite present. But his mate brought out the youth in him, and she and him got into all sorts of trouble together. Most of it, Galewing only knew because of the scars they returned with, giggling over their battle-wounds even as they tended to them.

As she spoke, Toothless' ears fell lower, his wings clutched in, and he brought his tail closer to me. Galewing, of course, noticed right away.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked.

Toothless stared at his feet for several seconds before asking, overtone lost and low, "How can I miss a dragon I've never met?"

I pressed close to him with a soothing thrum. "Oh, Toothless…"

Galewing let a small smile flit across her muzzle. "You are of the same kind, in search of others like her, and tended to her bones...and from what little I know of you, it seems you and her would have gotten along famously. Of course you feel kinship towards her."

Toothless nodded. "Yes, of course," he mumbled. He flicked his eyes up, put on the most fake-happy expression I had ever seen from him, and said, "Please, go on."

He very pointedly ignored my small glare at him. So much for talk good, when it wasn't him the one doing the talking.

"I'm afraid that's most of what I can say," Galewing sighed. "By then, I also had mated and had eggs to tend. We sadly grew apart due to this, since I would never leave my eggs alone for more than a half-day. My kind does not stay together long; the males are useless when it comes to hatchlings, so I alone care for them. Besides, Starcatcher was also with an egg, so she retreated into this nest here. We did not see each other for many moons, lying on our eggs, and when we did see each other, it was while we were out hunting for our hatchlings."

Now her expression was drawn, harsh in the sunset shadows. "The humans that came for them...also found us. I…" she hung her head low. "I stayed with them as long as I could. But soon I saw that there was no end to the humans, like a fire that never burns out. I…" She shuddered, and so did her voice. "I flew away."

So full of despair and shame was her overtone that I had reached out to lay a hand on her before I even realized it. She looked up at me, eyes brimming with regret.

"You chose life," I said softly. "And because of that, Farflight and your eggs are here."

She nodded, though her expression remained unchanged. "I have a family to care for, now," she murmured. "And it is all I can do to honor the family I abandoned." She took a deep breath and rattled her spines. "It is done. The past stays where it is. But you understand now why I am so hesitant to have...your kind near my nest." She glanced at Toothless. "I chose this as my new nesting-grounds because it is extremely difficult for humans to come in if they do not swarm like insects. And because it reminds me always of what I have lost, and what I must live for."

"Mother…" Farflight said, aghast. He leapt onto her back and wrapped his legs, wings, and tail around her. "Why stay here if it hurts you so much? We should leave!"

She chuckled, shaking her head and winding her neck around to lick him. "Have you forgotten your younger siblings?"

"When they hatch," he said stubbornly, "we should take them and fly to Berk. They will be safe, and you will never have to live in this horrible place again!"

"You would be welcome," I said carefully. "Even if you chose to live in the mountains, away from people, nobody would hurt you or your hatchlings."

She frowned, and in that fearful, thoughtful look, I saw her mind whirling. Considering.

"It is your choice," Toothless said. "It is a long journey to make, and finding a new nest with hatchlings is no easy decision."

"We can sleep on the wing!" Farflight pressed. "We can lock our wings and ride the wind currents the whole way there. It is easy for our kind to travel long distances, right, Mother?"

Toothless lifted an eyebrow. "It took us nearly two moons to get here."

"We could make it one! Or less! We're the best long-distance fliers of them all, right, Mother? Oh, please, Mother, pleeeaaase think about it!"

Galewing sighed. "Oh, my love...I don't know. I want you and the hatchlings to be safe. But…"

She turned her eyes to me.

"Humans...can be so cruel."

It was like a slap to the face. I grimaced. The magic at my forehead pulsed. Inviting, pressuring. It was right there…

We continued trading stories until the sun dipped below the horizon. Again, Farflight begged us not to go. Galewing, while polite, made it clear that she still felt it was too dangerous to have us around. Toothless and I couldn't argue, weighed down by the guilty knowledge that she was very much in the right to fear our presence.

"We'll be in this area," I reassured a distraught Farflight, peeling his claws from around my shoulders. "Maybe we'll run into each other again." I got him off, only for him to wrap his tail around my midsection.

"Farflight! Be civil and let the poor things go!" Galewing scolded, exasperated.

"Please don't go?" he whimpered, giving me that overly-cute look I saw from hatchlings all the time on Berk.

"I'm sorry," I said, putting a paw on his head. "But your mother's right. We have to."

When he was finally convinced to let me go, I leapt onto my familiar place on Toothless' shoulders. He turned to the two and bowed deeply.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything."

Galewing bowed. "Thank you, as well, for rescuing my Farflight."

Toothless turned to go, opening his wings to the stars. A cool wind ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling it dance across my skin.

"Hiccup?"

We stopped and turned back to Galewing.

She stretched her neck to me and, as gentle as a mother carrying a hatchling, took the hood of my flightsuit and pulled it over my head.

"Humans are hated here," she whispered, "and many dragons may not be so understanding." She drew back, eyes half-lidded and mournful. "I will be honest. I do not think it is a human's place to be looking for Shadow-Blenders. Not when humans drove them away."

Toothless went stiff. His tension rattled through me, locking up my joints.

"I am both human and dragon," I said, though my voice was not nearly as confident as I wanted—needed—it to be. Why wasn't it?

Why was I so shaken? What was wrong with me?

The image of Starcatcher's terrible resting place flooded my mind. Hers and her yearling's bones, the dead eggs, the scorch marks, the weapons, the human skeletons. Toothless breathing fire upon them, sending them to the Dragoness of the Moon. Me standing at his side, unable to do anything but watch.

Galewing sighed. "But a dragon, you are meant to be. You are leaving me with something to think hard about, and I will do the same for you, since I cannot watch you go without saying this." She stared into me, as if she could see the magic lying in wait there, ready to blossom like a flower opening to the day. "Life can be cruelly short. Do not wait for it to catch up to you, because it will not warn you. You have what you want in your claws. Seize it, before you are too late."

I swallowed thickly. My legs trembled.

Nobody had ever, ever told me that I should change, simply because it was what I wanted. For myself. Not even Toothless, who knew of everything that needed to be done...of the problems with Dad and Snotlout. For years, we had looked forward to my reversion, even as one problem after the other delayed it. First it was settling the peace. Then teaching the tribes to live with dragons, and the dragons to live with the tribes. Then spending endless years forging that relationship, growing it like a hesitant ember into the blazing inferno it was now. I hadn't needed to think about it that much during that time, when I was so absorbed in our duty.

Then, the moment it seemed settled, I leapt to another problem. Berk. Who would succeed Dad. How Dad felt about it. The Book of Dragonese. Snotlout.

Wasn't it selfish to go through with it only because I wanted to? When so many things had gone unfinished, unspoken?

Galewing must have read the hesitation on my face, because she said, "As is the same with me, it is a choice. A hard choice. One that changes everything. But..."

She looked away, out towards the mountain valleys, the fang-like mountains leaning over to clamp down from all sides.

"...it is for the best, to choose happiness in the end. Otherwise, your life has gone unlived."

o.O.o

…

"Well," you said, opening the cage and stepping inside. You crouched and lifted the unconscious little dragon's eyelid. Her pupil flickered in the light. "Alive, good. That was sudden! At least we know how many micro-doses a medium-sized dragon can withstand before fainting, hm? I must write down this threshold; she crossed it too quickly for my liking."

The vials clinked like discordant bells as you gathered them. The white dragon had stopped kicking them off about halfway through her dosing. She had squeezed her eyes shut and curled upon herself, a high-pitched whine seizing from her throat. You were firm and decisive, though not gentle, as you ripped the used needles from her scales. Small rivulets of blood ran from the punctures. You paid them no mind.

You stepped out of the cage, looked down at the dirt you tracked out of her cage, and wrinkled your nose. "Filthy creature," you grumbled, scuffing your boots against the ground to shake off the remaining dirt.

You collapsed into your chair at your desk, head hanging back, eyes staring at the ceiling. For a long while, you pondered.

Abruptly, like a puppet jerked on a string, you lurched forward and began your work. You gave a cursory glance at the used needles. Those that could be repurposed were eased into a jar of ethanol to sterilize. Those with even the slightest imperfection, down to a single scratch on the glass, were tossed in a discard pile to be melted down.

You put on dragon-scale gloves that rose up to your shoulders. Onto the table you placed your sand mixtures, glass beads, hollow metal tubes, and your iron graspers and clamp. Unlocking a large drawer with a key, you carefully lifted out your miniature furnace and flame-holder.

The furnace was made of fired clay coated in a heavy layer of insulating dragon-hide. Shaped like a beehive, it had a wide, hinged steel window on the top to vent air and to reach in. Its interior was thoroughly coated in a viscous solution of ethanol and Monstrous Nightmare saliva. Made properly and coated thoroughly, it created a searing burn that lasted for hours. You pulled out a jar of the solution and brushed it along the interior of the furnace. Lighting a match, you thrust it inside and shut the metal hinge. The fwoosh! of the flame muffled with the closing of the lid.

The flame-holder was a clever contraption. In overall appearance, it suggested a miniature cannon. A large canister of Hideous Zippleback gas made up the bulk of it. This canister connected to metal tubing, which became progressively smaller and smaller. Each iteration of metal tubing had a valve, allowing finite control of the stream of gas. You opened the valve to the gas canister, lit a match, turned the flame-holder into the open space of the room, and held it to the open end of the flame-holder. A jet of flame erupted from the spout. With several quick adjustments, familiar and swift with expertise, you coaxed the flame down to a brilliant blue leaf reaching barely a few inches from the spout.

Thus, you began your true work. With your lampworking tools, you attached small glass beads to a metal rod, heated them until they glowed like embers in the flame-holder, and rolled them in the spare sand. Over and over you added more volume to the glob of melting glass, keeping sure to flip the metal rod constantly to prevent it from drooping away. When its size became acceptable, you clasped the tip of it in a wrench, pulled, and brought the cool end of the metal tube to your mouth.

As you breathed into the tube, air formed a pocket within the molten glass. You blew and stretched, reheated it, blew and stretched, reheated it, over and over. The product was a long, delicate string, glowing like a captured ray of sunlight and hollow on the inside. Now you moved rapidly, with little time for error. Using a specialized clamp you had developed yourself, you placed the metal stick down, held the string upright in a pair of pliers, and began clipping away sections of the string. The clamp produced the syringe's needle-sharp point. This was the end you cared for the most reverently, immediately opening the furnace and placing the piece inside.

Bit by bit you reheated the starlight-string of glass, held it up, clamped it to break off a hollow needle-point, and put the broken end in the furnace. So fine were the syringes that by the time you were done, having stretched out the glob of glass to its fullest, you had dozens of new syringes resting in the furnace. Over the next few days, the furnace would slowly burn itself out and cool down, letting the glass drop to room temperature without shattering. Once completed, you would melt the broad ends of the needle with a light fire and place them upon specialized metal screws. The screws were hollow on the inside and could be snapped onto the cylinders that contained whatever poison you chose.

Thus you were your own producer of your poison-craft, dependent on not a single soul, jealously territorial of your methodology. As master of your own trade, you commanded respect from warrior and scientist alike independent of your dragon-training.

You put the flame-holder back in its chest and locked it. The furnace, unfortunately, would need to rest outside as long as it housed flame. Your simple solution was to lock your workspace, refusing to let anyone enter, even in the most urgent of situations.

"Now, the question is," you mused, "what exactly does it do?" You reached to your tube-holder and plucked a vial of glowing orange solution. "It seems a one-to-one hundred dilution produces a sustained, intensely painful muscle contraction. Roughly nine doses brings unconsciousness, likely from contracture of the diaphragm preventing the dragon from drawing breath. Higher doses, however, induce seizures. This suggests a neurological component…" You swirled the solution, watching it shimmer like a sea of a thousand stars.

You leaned forward and grabbed a pipette. You pursed your lips, producing a sharp, rising whistle that rang through the room. Come here.

"Tell me exactly what this does," you said. You faced directly forward, reaching your hand closer, closer. You grasped the lower jaw and wrenched it open, where it stayed. With your pipette, you carefully measured out a micro-dose. You leaned forward and squeezed the solution inside. Sharp taste, though not bitter, but very pungent.

"Speak," you said.

The world lurched. All at once, pain blossomed from a central core, where a pounding heart shuddered.

In a tight whimper: "Burning. Aching. Hurting."

You rolled your eyes. "Where?" you said, your tone that of someone speaking to simple-minded folk.

"Magic," I whispered.

And blinked.

Magic. My magic. Me. Me! I—

I...

The fireball receded. The world shifted right again.

Your expression was drawn, pale skin deathly-white in the grim mushroom-light. "How?" you demanded. "Where does it attack the magic?" After a moment, you snapped, "Speak!"

Calm now. Gone now. "Heart-core. Channels. Eating…"

"Eating…" you mused. A dreadful smile curled across your jaw. "Well...that is very enlightening." You reached forward again. A soft touch over brow, ears, and cheekbone. "What would I do without you, old friend?" you cooed.

With the question lingering in the dark, you returned to your bench and continued to craft your venom.

o.O.o

The mountains were well within view.

"My lord," the captain said to you, "shall we set anchor out in the bay, or pull into the docks?"

"The docks," you said without hesitation, your eyes never straying from your destination.

The captain nodded, eyes reverent, and hurried to do your bidding. He shouted to his men, who scrambled to make the proper adjustments, just as eager to please as their commander. Though you had worked with the captain before, the crew was new. You had awed them with the mere presence of tame dragons—and now, seeing your simple, ruthless work and the way you danced through the hunt, you had ascended to something above mere respect in their eyes. They wanted to be part of your crew, they wanted to be you, though every single one of them could not hide that, beneath it all, they even feared you.

Behind you, resting on the elevated stern, your flying-machine waited. Your beasts had been tended to and lounged in their harnesses, dozing away their dinners. Aboard it lay traps, your mobile workstation, chests with poison-craft equipment, and supplies. An empty cage rested at its midsection.

"Hey!" the eastern dragon, Haugaeldr—strange name—yelped. He had managed to work his dexterous claws through his muzzle and had ripped it off.

Again.

"I do not appreciate your muzzling me! Do you truly fear what I have to say?"

Your eye twitched. Your frown deepened. Oh, how you hated that dragon.

"I know you're ignoring me!" the golden dragon said. "But no matter how hard you try, you cannot deafen yourself! I will keep talking! Unless you give me my sandbox, and we may discuss this like rational people!"

Fury ripped through your face. You spun to face Haugaeldr, stormed to his cage, and clenched the bars of his cage between claw-like fingers.

"You. Are. Not. A. Person," you snarled.

Haugaeldr scrambled away, eyes wide, mouth gaping. In barely a breath, he whimpered, "You...you understand me?"

"More than you could ever know," you whispered.

The young dragon unfurled himself from the ball he had made of himself. "Well!" he said, annoyed, "Why go through all the trouble of having me write when we can just speak?"

You merely raised a lip in a sneer, uncurling your fingers one by one from the cage bars. With considerable effort, you closed your eyes and took several meditative breaths. The tension evaporated from your body like steam from a roiling pot of water. When you calmed down, you opened your eyes and met Haugaeldr's eyes. He had crept closer to you, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

"Dragons are not man's equal," you said, staring down your nose at him. "You are a beast. One who has learned a fancy little trick, but a trick nonetheless. Your place is below humanity, serving our will as we please."

"You're wrong," Haugaeldr said, eyes shining militantly. "Berk and the other Viking tribes prove that. Together, we are stronger. Dragons and humans, working together, as equals."

"Ah," you said, shaking your head in disappointment. "And that is the kind of nonsense that needs to be eradicated. Dragons can not be allowed to have such ideas."

"Why not?" Haugaeldr challenged. He inched forward. "What about dragons frightens you so?"

"Frightens?" you said. "No, I do not fear dragons. But I am well aware of their capacity for cruelty."

"Ironic words from the man speaking from outside this cage, and who does that to dragons."

You grinned. "Perhaps I should do this to you, as well." You reached a hand up. Soft touch on the neck. When horror slackened Haugaeldr's expression, you chuckled. "Oh, don't look so distraught. This is a dragon's natural place: subservient before man." You patted several times. "It is the only place a dragon can have."

"But why?" Haugaeldr insisted. He was at the edge of the cage by now, his snout easily thin enough to reach through. "What makes you say such things?"

You glowered. "Because I have seen what happens when a dragon takes your trick too far."

With that, you turned and walked away.

Haugaeldr snapped his neck forward, squeezing his head through the bars with his jaw outstretched, and poured flame upon you.

Protect.

Leap in front. Wrap wings around. Terrible heat as the flames streamed forward, like a river raging onto a stone.

You wrenched away the moment the flames faded, crossbow already in your hands. The men aboard shouted and hurried to put out the flames, rushing over with buckets of water and sand.

"Get out of the way!" Haugaeldr shrieked. "Don't you see I'm trying to help you?!"

He took another deep breath. You triggered your crossbow, and he leapt aside.

Another torrent of flames directed at you. Protect. Wrapping around you. Another rush of horrible burning. Bearing through it, but only just.

There was a small snapping sound near the neck. Something tight loosened almost imperceptibly. A sharp, stinging twinge as a deep-set needle shifted position, tearing the tissue in its path.

When the onslaught ended and you had unwrapped yourself from the sheltering wings, you lifted an eyebrow at Haugaeldr. "If you enjoy seeing your fellow dragon burned for my sake, then please, do go on wasting all your fire."

Haugaeldr seemed to be coming to the same realization, breathing heavily, smoke gusting between his jaws with each gasp, head low and wings half-raised. He looked straight forward. "I don't understand," he panted. "What have you done to him?"

"What I will do to you, soon enough," you said. With that, you raised your crossbow. Though Haugaeldr tried to lurch out of the way, you tracked his movements carefully. Even standing several feet away from the cage, tracking a flailing target, you still hit your mark exactly. The Deathgripper dart hit him just at his jugular vein. He dropped limp to the ground.

"Well!" you said, dusting off your cloak. You turned to the men who were still scrambling to contain the small fire aboard the deck. "That certainly counts as an exciting morning, does it not?"

"Y-yes, my lord," the captain stammered. "Are you well? Do you need to sit down? Here, allow me to—"

"No, no, no," you tuttered, waving him off. "I am well, I assure you." Your eyes darkened. "But that is the last time I want that beast breaking out of its muzzle. Put a dart collar on it. I've heard enough of the creature's twisted ideals to last a lifetime."

o.O.o

It was high noon by the time that the ship anchored in the bay. The crew scampered like frantic sea-birds. The captain stood off to the side, speaking to the dock-master, who sent you furtive, fearful glances.

You stood on your flying-machine, eyeing the mountains that swelled into the sky. You had to crane your neck just to catch a glimpse of their peaks, some straining so high that they pierced through the puffy white clouds lazing about. Beyond those fortuitous gates, the vast wilderness of the mountain range and all its valleys beckoned you. There, you suspected, your prey cowered.

"My lord!" the captain said, running over. He actually bowed to you, bending low at his waist. "We are secured here for the time being. Shall we bring the Viking prisoner to our hold on land?"

Despite his greatest efforts and fierce reputation, not even Stoick the Vast could bend metal bars between his hands. Once realizing he could not physically escape on his own, the Viking had begun shouting loud enough to rival his dragon. He demanded to see Haugaeldr, to see "Hiccup", to be spoken to. You had not graced him with your attention since your first conversation with him. A smug smile crept along your lips every time you heard the man's desperate cries.

You would let him sit in his worry and desperation, let the lie you gave him fester like an open wound, until it consumed him in a feverish wave of grief and regret. Then, you knew, he would do as you wanted. Your men faithfully followed your orders to them not to speak to him—not that it mattered, for not a soul besides you spoke Norse.

"No," you said. "He's too wily. I'll not take my chances with him. We have him nice and secure in the brig, so that's where we're going to keep him."

The captain grimaced in sympathy for the unfortunate prisoner, but nodded. "Very well. Besides that, I've received reports from your scouts in this area." He handed you an envelope.

You broke the wax seal and scoured its contents. A wry grin twitched at the corner of your lips. "So they are here," you said. "Well, I'm glad they got away from the first trap. Otherwise I'd have gone through all this trouble, only to miss out on the fun." You pocketed it and glanced at the captain. "And the other ships? They aren't docked here, and we didn't pass them on the way back."

The captain's shoulders fell. He looked down at his feet. "Gone, my lord. The storm must have sunk them."

You stilled, your spine going straight.

Unlike this borrowed crew, found through the captain's connections to his homeland here, those ships had been yours. The crews were composed of freed slaves from your conquests. Your captain's crew had more experience on these wild ocean waters, more knowledge of local legends that had grains of truth within them, and, ultimately, more valuable information on the last Shadow-Blenders. But your people—those who came with you out of loyalty and love alone—did not share that knowledge. Some knew enough Norse and English to get by, but few were fluent in multiple languages like you.

You had trusted in their experience, and they had trusted in your leadership.

It was not enough to save them.

Expression locked into a careful blankness, you turned on your heel and walked to the boat's stern. There, facing the sea, you leaned on the railing and clasped your hands in front of you.

For a long while, the briny breeze ruffled your hair and cloak. The sea-birds sailed and squawked. You said nothing. Your eyes closed and your lips moved. The heavy silence settled upon the ship like a mourning veil.

You crossed yourself, hand dancing across your chest, and turned back to the captain.

"I'll not have it be for nothing, my good man," you said.

The captain looked up at you like a young boy to his father, full of awe, so sure that nothing you said could ever be wrong. To him, you could reach up and touch the tops of the mountains, if you so chose. "Aye. Nor will I."

You nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and stepped back down to the deck. Fishing your keys from your pocket, you unlocked your office and swung the door open.

The little mud-covered dragon cowered at the far end of her cage, stark blue eyes filling her face with her terror. You motioned to some men waiting off to the side. They rushed in, unlocked the man-sized doors on the sides of the cage, and waited. Both grasped ropes wrapped around metal carabiners.

Though she was muzzled, the dragoness still snarled and swung her head towards the nearest crew member. He leapt backwards, and when the other laughed at him, she spun and snapped a paw against the cage bars. He scrambled back. Immediate threat gone, she huddled back to her refuge in the back of the cage, legs and wings quaking.

You stalked over to the other edge of the cage. Pursing your lips, you whistled the command: Come here.

She knew what it meant; she needed no translation. The filth-coated dragon met your eyes, defiance sparking beneath the terror. She hunched closer to the cage floor, membranous fin along her back swaying with the movement.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, loaded a micro-dose of mushroom poison into your crossbow, and casually swung it upwards.

Twang!

The little dragon squealed. She curled in on herself, gasping and seizing.

"The leads, now!" you ordered. You stepped forward and unhooked the main latch to the cage.

The men wrenched open the side-doors and scrambled inside. The dragoness was still splayed across the floor. By the time she had snapped her eyes open, pupils swallowed by her irises in fear, both men had snapped the carabiners to the metal rungs in her muzzle and retreated. You swung the front of the cage open, giving them reprieve. They leapt from the cage and stood at your side, ropes held taught, pulling the white dragon closer.

She reared, straining against their might. But these men were built like the mountains they were raised in, deep-rooted, vast, unyielding. They were seasoned in the art of beast-trapping, and knew how to place their weight and tug to keep a flailing dragon under control.

The dragoness seemed to realize that she would not be shaking the leads off. Instead, she planted her paws and strained backwards, snarling with fear, wings flapping and tail swinging.

You whistled. Come here.

Even with the muzzle, she still managed to let out a strangled wheeze, "No!"

With a disappointed shake of your head, you let loose a low-dropping whistle that suddenly rose up at the end.

Surround.

Stepping into the cage. Head low, wings lifted. The rise of her snarl was all fear. She looked straight forward, curling away. A step closer, and closer, and closer. She swung a paw, just barely missing, though the gust of wind curled against eyes and nose. The stench of fear-scent, blood, and that painful stinging-smell wafted from her. Her eyes swelled with emotion, so intense, so vulnerable, so wild. Another step forward, and she took one back. Another one, this to the side, and she immediately knew the goal. Unwilling to be herded closer to you and your men, she chose to squat low to the floor, neck muscles straining against the relentless tugging of the leads.

Another whistle followed by the previous one. Then a last one.

Intimidate and surround. Bring back.

A second growl filled the air. Teeth snapped just above her wing. She whimpered, shivering, eyes flicking back and forth. Caught between foe and her captors, she chose foe: she clenched her eyes shut and melted down, letting her weight sink into the cage floor. Small as she was, she was still much too heavy for men to lift.

"Willful one, isn't she?" you mused from behind.

"Aye!" one of your men chuckled, breathless with effort and excitement. "It's been too long, hasn't it?"

"I'll break her soon enough," you said. The click of your crossbow was soft. "After all, she can still take seven more doses."

o.O.o

Each needle that plunged into the dragon's hide sent rivers of blood, stark and ghastly, across her once-white scales.

At the eighth dose, you called a stop to the torment. Your men glanced at you, surprised. The dragoness lay curled up, sides heaving, each breath accompanied by little pained whimpers.

"Let's give her body time to process the poison," you said. "Then we can start anew. Close the cage for now."

The men did as they were told. With that, you sauntered over to your chair and eased into it. There you lounged, humming to yourself and tinkering with your poison-craft. You had long-since stocked up on micro-doses, but now, you seemed to be working on a much more concentrated solution.

The little white dragon stopped her trembling and heaving. Inch by inch, every movement stiff with pain, she scratched at the needles. They swayed back and forth, swimming through her flesh. Her eyes clenched shut with agony.

But she did, eventually, claw all eight doses out of her hide.

With the last plink! of a needle hitting the ground, you tilted your head towards her with a wide, unkind grin. "Learning our lesson now, aren't we?" you sang.

As if she understood your words, the terror in her eyes found a new companion: hatred. She looked at you as you did to Haugaeldr, fiercely abhorrent. It was clear that she knew that you meant to torture her into submission, and she despised you for it. Even as your very presence sent waves of her fear-scent thundering through the room, her willful, grief-crazed gaze met yours, and there was no doubt to be left that she was prepared to endure the suffering.

"Oh, what a frightening face!" you laughed. You swung round in your chair and got up. "How long has it been?" you asked your men, who still stood waiting.

"About an hour, my lord!" one man said faithfully.

"Perfect," you said. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

So the song and dance began again. Open the cage. The commands surround, intimidate, bring back.The men, trying to pull her out. The constant rise of the whistle, the command come here.

The refusal.

One dose. Two. Three.

The little white dragon squealed and writhed and convulsed, but she did not yield.

With each ignored order, your eyes darkened, but your smile grew, like the stretching open of the earth after a shake.

Four. Five.

Her eyes were fluttering with pain. With each plunge into her flesh, once her eyes stopped rolling, she dizzily lifted her eyes, narrowed her eyes at you, and snarled as deep and hateful as any living creature ever did.

You only smiled all the wider.

Six.

You clucked your tongue in a command. Get closer. Not much room left, but possible. Now she was close, so close that the fear and stinging-smell were nearly overpowering. Still she did not move.

Seven.

You actually laughed. "Oh, I haven't had a challenge like this in an age," you crowed. You leveled the last dose at her. She pinned her ears, pale gums glimmering in the dim light.

The dragoness' eyes narrowed.

As the twang! reverberated, she lunged.

Her weight slammed against shoulder and neck, pushing forward, rocking the world about—!

The collar jolted as her claws scored past it. An accident; it was not her goal. She simply wanted to push behind black scales, create a shield between her and you.

A shield there was, as the mushroom-poison dark plunged deep into the neck, where the scales were soft. The sting of the sliding needle pulsed—and evaporated into a ravenous explosion.

The pain rushed through magic channels to the heart-core, where it gnashed its teeth, tearing away at my magic even as it burned through my body—

My muscles locked and seized with the pain—

It was difficult for me to draw breath—

Wait—wait—this was—this—

I…I…I…!

I gasped like a drowning dragon finally surfacing. The mushroom-poison bowled over my tormented haze even as it ripped my magic reserves to shreds, and I welcomed it.

No time. No time! I swung around, fire in my throat, and howled with all of my hurt and hatred at the monsters before us. My flame, so long used for wrong, bowled towards the center of my world. In that half-heartbeat before the fire reached you, I reveled in the shocked horror in your expression.

One of your men grabbed you, just as I would have. As if following the command Protect, he wrapped his body around you as the fireball exploded. The ropes immediately set ablaze.

"RUN!" I bellowed to the poor dragoness, raging forward myself. One man was thrown back, eyes distant and slow-blinking, blood pouring from his nose and dribbling from his jaw. You lay below the man who had saved you, the man who now lay screaming and clutching at his burning flesh. In a breath, your eyes darted to mine, flickered with realization, and hardened with resolve. You scrambled out from under him.

The pain was receding. The micro-dose. They only lasted a few minutes. The fog—it was going to come back.

Protect, that first and eternal command whispered.

No time. No time.

Not only for me, but also for you!

My heartache rose in a relentless wave and I roared. Leaping forward, I stomped on one man and clawed at the other. "You," I snarled, rounding on you. I swept my paw—Protect!—and nearly missed, but still managed to send you tumbling to the ground. My flame gathered in my throat and reflected in your irises.

Your fingers flew to your lips and you shrieked out a command: STOP!

As if you had reached inside me, my throat constricted and my flame sizzled away.

No. No. No!

I towered over you, rose on my haunches, and slammed my paws down.

Protect!

Instead of crushing your head beneath my weight, my legs moved of their own accord to each side of your head.

The fog curled in. The pain in my limbs faded.

I had to kill you!

"You!"

PROTECT!

I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't—!

"YOU!" I howled into your face, pouring all of my loss and hate, all of my being into that shriek until my throat burned with the pain that I could not inflict.

The scrambling of paws rushed behind me. The dragoness fled outside, dirt-flakes shedding from her like a dandelion releasing its seeds into a powerful, cleansing gale. She emerged from her mud-coated skin like a whale slipping out of the ocean. Her scales, brilliant white, reflected the sun in a blinding shimmer.

She skidded to a stop as crewmembers descended from all directions. She swung back to me, still...still muzzled?! I thought I had burned it!

The fire at my heart stilled to embers. The fog crept on in its relentless march. You moved out from under the—my—the paws…

No…no…

Failed. This one last chance…

With the last of my stifled soul, I wheezed, "Go!"

A needle plunged into soft neck-scales.

There had been no click of the crossbow. You grasped it in your hand, knuckles as white as the skin of your face and the sclera of your wide, panicked eyes. The taste of smoke was in the air, but there was no fire around you.

A snarl rose, then the pained shout of a man. Looking over, the little white dragon barreled right past Haugaeldr, who stood blankly in his cage, eyes distant, harness tight around his neck. She swung around one last time, jeweled eyes tormented with regret, fear, even gratefulness. Sunlight danced along her lithe form, catching on luminescent, sky-blue scales on her neck. She appeared not a dragon, but a creature formed from the daylight heavens.

She leapt into the air. Her form wavered like a heat mirage once, twice, flickering like the flashing of lightning. Magic. Shadow-Blender magic. It was failing, though. She must have not had enough.

Somehow, she found it in herself. With one final, strained effort, the dragoness' body dissolved away and vanished.

She was gone.

The crew shouted and scrambled, but their arrows, nets, and bolas would not work if they couldn't see their target.

You stood there panting. In your hand, you held an empty vial. With your other, you reached over and ripped out another. You stared at them both, one with a droplet of orange poison, the other with magenta. Your chest heaved and your arms shook. Fear-scent drifted through the air.

Your eyes dragged over to the two men on the ground. The one who had been clawed was alive, grasping his shredded forearm and grimacing. The other…

Pain sliced through your expression. You crept forward and laid a solemn hand on the man who had saved you. His skin had crisped and melted. His chest no longer rose and fell. Slowly, delicately, you closed his empty eyes.

You bowed your head. Your men shuffled at the entrance to your study. Some choked down sobs.

When you looked up, your eyes rivaled the darkness of the longest night. Some of your men drew away.

"We are in the land of Night Furies," you growled. You rose to your feet, teeth bared, hands clenched. "These are the dragons that bring the destruction of men. These are the dragons that would try to rise above us! These are the dragons that would make us slaves again!"

Through their tears, the men stiffened and their jaws clenched.

"Will we let them harm another soul?!" you cried.

"NO!" the men answered.

"Then let us set our trap now!" you commanded. "We move forward! We will bring our justice to them, corner the beasts where they lurk! And when we trap them among their filth, we will slay them!"

The men's voices rose in a roar to shake the earth. There amongst the choked embers, the smoke and blood-scent and terror clogging the air, their challenge chased the daylight dragon into the heavens.