imagine posting a Christmas episode Mid-May, couldn't be me.

Actually, imagine writing a Christmas Episode where the main focus ISN'T the holiday. (also could definitely NOT be me)

Anyways.

"It is beautiful, don't you think?" Jazz asked, the awe was just slightly less muted in her voice than her eyes.

Hiccup sighed restlessly at the gradually shrinking lights over the horizon, head still thoroughly spinning.

Despite its name, Hiccup had come to the conclusion that New York City was not "new". With buildings so high that clouds swallowed their roofs, to tunnels of trains that made the ground shake beneath his feet, and a cacophony of noise that put Amity Park to utter shame, he could see why it was 'bucket list' material.

And he was beyond glad to be rid of it. And to be fair to New York City, he was never much of a boat fanatic, either – not as a child, and certainly not as a dragon rider – so where they were currently standing wasn't exactly his first choice, either. But at least he had his sea legs.

Even now he could feel the swaying of the ocean as they leaned on the railing of what Jazz had dubbed a "cargo ship", watching the skyline of New York City disappear into the waves. The sun would be replacing them soon.

"Better from a distance, in my opinion." Hiccup responded, and Toothless crooned in agreement.

Jazz rolled her eyes in amusement, giving the night fury a glare from over the shoulder, "What does that mean?" she asked, turning to Hiccup.

Finding the question rather harmless, Hiccup chuckled, "That's his 'agreement' noise."

"So he really can understand us when he's like this, then?"

That one gave him pause, and Hiccup hesitated for a moment, giving Jazz a look. She looked like a caricature of wonder, but it was so innocent, so infectious , that he spoke anyway. "Well… I think a lot of it is the amulet right now. But he did imply that they can understand bits and pieces without them. Immersive Exposure and whatnot." Hiccup admitted, turning to his dragon with a raised eyebrow, "Unless you're lying. But you wouldn't do that to me, would you Bud?"

Something smug crossed Toothless' face as he rumbled, and the night fury stalked back into the nook they'd scoped out – a group of large, metal crates stacked in just the right way to create a cave with more than a few corners to cram into. Perfect for the stowaways that they were.

"Huh." Jazz huffed, watching the dragon stalk off in nothing short of awe. It was strange to think about, actually – that Jazz was more familiar with Toothless' human disguise than his real form.

…Actually, it was a little unsettling.

Hiccup shook his head, looking over to find Fishlegs giving him a pointed side-eye. "Infodumping," he warned, making Hiccup cringe. Still, Fishlegs changed the subject as an olive branch, "I think we should move one of these things to block the entrance." He gave Hiccup a knowing look, "I know you're thinking about insulation."

"I'm also thinking about not getting caught," Hiccup admitted, eyeing Jazz as she finally broke her attention from the twinkling city, "but yes. Insulation is another priority."

Jazz was a great traveler – certainly better than Snotlout and his incessant whining – but she got cold easily. Nor was she used to the thinner air. Neither of those things could really be held against her. It took a considerable amount of exposure to build tolerance for it, but it did cause Hiccup to pay more mind to their accommodations than he usually did. Even now she was beginning to shiver, the marine layer clinging to her nylon clothing in a way that his and Fishlegs' woolen clothing negated.

"What do you mean we'll move these things?" She asked, turning an ear back to their conversation.

"Dragons are surprisingly strong creatures," Hiccup supplied, side glanced Fishlegs, and then said, "their bones aren't hollow like birds are, so they fly through brute force more than anything. They're mostly muscle because of that."

Jazz hummed in bewilderment, but apparently didn't find that information as daunting as it was relieving. "Maybe they aren't descendants of dinosaurs, then…" She muttered to herself.

"Dinosaurs?" Fishlegs inquired.

"Oh Ancients." Jazz's eyes widened, "I have neither the time nor expertise to give you that rundown." She pulled out her phone, and then frowned, "nor the internet service…remind me when we get to land. I'll totally explain!"

Again, Hiccup couldn't help but shoot an inquisitive look towards Fishlegs, who wasn't doing a very good job at feigning disinterest. Jazz promptly changed the subject, "Well, in any case, once this thing really gets moving we can shift some of these crates," she raked a keen eye across the stack at their disposal, "if any of the crew notices, it'll be blamed on the wake."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Fishlegs cleared his throat, and a chuff from their metal cave bounced to their ears. "Alright," he called out to his dragon, "I'm coming!"

As he disappeared into their shelter, Hiccup stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He could feel goosebumps starting on his spine as the sea began to suck the heat from his body. "We should join them," he advised, turning to Jazz and finding her staring with excitement at the cave, "what's got you so happy?"

Her attention snapped to him with a shiver, and she blinked. "Sorry, I just – how can he just tell when Meatlug wants him?"

Another round of hesitation. So much of it, in fact, that Jazz's face dropped.

"Oh, um…you don't have to tell me, you know…" She resigned, and it caused Hiccup to shake his head.

"No, no. It's fine." It would be good for her to understand in case their dragons had to warn them about something. "That's what a chuff is," Hiccup explained, taking it upon himself to nudge her towards their nook, "a call for attention."

They settled into the cave and began pulling out blankets to drape over the cracks in the crates. With the dragons' body heat alone the temperature was already creeping up, but the reduced drafts allowed them to shed their coats.

Rustling around in her bag, Jazz produced a small camping lamp. She switched it on and placed it like a campfire in the midst of them. "Home sweet home," She joked.

"Home sweet home," Hiccup repeated, stretching into Toothless' side with a grunt, "I'm gonna sleep for a week."

"We've been on the road for three days." Fishlegs reminded him, as if that would make the weariness evaporate from his body.

"I am also going to sleep for a week." Jazz doubled down, bunching her duffle bag under her head.

Toothless trilled in agreement.

A week did not pass by the time Hiccup woke back up, but lunch was being unpacked. Today's was a bundle of leftovers from a 2 AM diner visit – the nearest place to their landing spot that was open. Hiccup accepted the remains of his breakfast gratefully.

"Where's Jazz?" He asked, and Fishlegs answered with a nod towards the entrance.

"Bathroom."

"Ah," Hiccup said. Toothless roused as he settled down next to him, crooning, and Hiccup brushed a hand over his head. Fishlegs ignored this, and for the first time Hiccup's attention was drawn to the Dragon Manual, balanced precariously on his knees as he ate.

Hiccup hadn't seen much of it since they'd settled into Manson Manor. It had been stashed away like a sort of secret once the gravity of the entire situation had hit, pulled out during odd hours of the night on the now incredibly rare chance that they needed it. It was here now only because it had more use on this road trip than back home. And even then, Hiccup found himself treating it like he did the Dragon Eye: an invaluable artifact that he couldn't afford to fall into the wrong hands.

The book's worn leather somehow made it look more ancient than it was. Hiccup stared at the etchings as Fishlegs flipped through it. He had that far away look that typically manifested when he was deep in thought, and Hiccup's eyebrows pulled together.

"This about the 'dinosaur' thing?"

Fishlegs blinked, hands stalling on the page in front of him. "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

"Nah," Hiccup responded, taking a bite of his own sandwich, "just to me." He nudged Fishlegs playfully, and Toothless stretched his wings at the motion.

Only a huff of laughter left Fishlegs – he was obviously still deep in thought, and Hiccup turned his attention back to his meal to give him some space. "We'll just have to remember to remind Jazz when we get to the archipelago."

That made Fishlegs' brow furrow considerably. "She's very trusting, isn't she?"

Something sour built in Hiccup's chest at his tone, and he chewed on his food for a while as he pondered his next words. "About that…I need to talk to you about her." He eventually settled on, but considering that managed to tear Fishlegs' attention away from their book, it was suffice to say he could have found better phrasing.

"It's a bit late for second thoughts, don't you think?" Fishlegs asked.

"I'm not having second thoughts," Hiccup rolled his eyes. "I…think we should train her."

Fishlegs paused.

Fishlegs gave him an incredibly serious look, and Hiccup sighed restlessly.

"I know, I know…" He said, sitting down next to his friend, "but I mean…" He gestured towards the entrance of their hideout as if she were standing there, "We know she's capable of keeping secrets…"

"Her friendship with Phantom already gives her a giant target on her back," Fishlegs countered, "and despite what she says about these Guys in White and their incapability, no one is immune to torture." Fishlegs glanced towards the entrance of their nook, as if she would appear at any moment. "We can't afford to have whatever remains of the dragon population fall into the wrong hands. You know that."

"I know, but I hate dodging her questions." Hiccup said, "I feel like it's becoming a form of contention. She obviously wants to help us – I mean Odin, Fishlegs. These people have access to an amount of information that we can't even comprehend . And even though none of it may be explicitly tied to dragons, there has to be some sort of connection! She's the one with the experience to help us navigate it! And besides, what happens if, Thor forbid, we get incapacitated, or separated, and she has to face a…changewing alone, for example? I just…" He hesitated at the look Fishlegs was sending him, "We're taking her straight into dragon territory. It would just make me feel better if she had at least… some training."

He knew that was an incredibly optimistic view – and isn't it strange that he found the probability of a dragon attack optimistic? – but it definitely went without saying.

It took quite a few seconds of staring before Fishlegs sighed, his tone waning into disappointment. He'd always been more selfless than Hiccup was – abandoning knowledge if the price was too much, even if it hurt him. But even now, Hiccup could recognize that glimmer of excitement in his eyes. Shifting back against Meatlug in resignation, Fishlegs shrugged.

"I… would like to work on the Book of Dragons some more." He admitted, "We have nothing better to do while we sail." He eyed Toothless rather deliberately as he flipped to the (still incredibly empty) Night Fury entry.

Despite his inability to speak, Toothless had made it very clear over these last few months that he didn't want to be interrogated about dragon stuff. Beyond the information about their communication abilities, they hadn't been able to get anything else out of him. Even bribery was ineffective.

And Hiccup got that, he really did.

But he also… really wanted to know .

Fishlegs' plan was pretty obvious – Jazz Fenton's ability to make people pour their hearts out was almost magic . Hiccup didn't know if her field of study could be transferred to the dragon psyche, but…it wouldn't hurt to try, right?

"I'll see what I can do." Hiccup muttered. "...so you agree? We should train her?"

It took quite a few seconds of staring before Fishlegs sighed, shifting back against Meatlug in resignation. "I trust you," was all he said.

The rest of the day was uneventful, which was exactly how they needed it to be. A couple hours after sunset, they were able to conceal the entrance to their hideout with another crate, which only left dinner on their daily agenda.

"Any requests?" Hiccup snarked as he hoisted their one net over his shoulder.

"How about a late-night escapade to the kitchen," Jazz chuckled, "that'd be easier. And warmer."

"Or," Hiccup opted, giving Fishlegs a pointed side-eye, "you could join Toothless and me. We could teach you how dragons hunt."

Instantly, Jazz perked up, clasping her hands together cautiously – like she was expecting him to take back the request in an instant. When Hiccup held his ground, she broke out into a smile. "And suddenly I'm up for some hard work!"

The ocean was blissfully calm that night, making the temperature just slightly more bearable. Considering the only source of light was the cargo ship itself, they felt rather confident that A) they wouldn't get lost and B) they wouldn't be spotted.

"What even are these?" Jazz asked as she pulled a particularly scrawny fish from their net.

Locking Toothless' tailfin in place, Hiccup turned. "Herring, probably." he declared rather boldly, considering the low light. Toothless grumbled in disappointment, causing his rider to flick him on the ear, "You're too spoiled."

Hiccup promptly got a frill to the cheek, causing him to sputter. Jazz, of course, chuckled at his misery, throwing their undersized catch back to the waves. "So, I'm willingly freezing my fingers off because…"

"Because dragons are afraid of eels." Hiccup said. Another disconcerting growl from Toothless. "Because they cause adverse effects when consumed." he clarified, just to not make his dragon seem like a wimp.

Toothless trilled in approval.

"Really?" Jazz replied, seemingly bewildered, "Is it all eels?"

"Well, as far as we can tell." Hiccup admitted. Because they, admittedly, hadn't really tested the theory outside the archipelago.

Jazz went silent as they banked back towards the ship. "That seems like some pretty sensitive information." She observed.

Hiccup caught on to the wariness in her voice instantly, and it kind of sobered him up. A bit of the cold finally got to him, and he shivered. "Yeah. A bit." He admitted, and then turned to face her, "but…we trust you." He emphasized, "and besides, it's good to know, in case you get cornered, or something…"

Jazz hummed, the net snagged with some more weight. Hiccup peered into the water, half-expecting to see a scauldron on the other end and just slightly disappointed to not find one.

They dropped their catch on the ship with a wet plop, and made quick work of sifting through the rest of the fish. There actually were a couple salmon amidst what were, indeed, mostly Herrings. The humans commandeered those for themselves, leaving the dragons with the rest.

Fishlegs had not moved from his position with the Dragon Manual when they re-entered, only settled back against the crate in Meatlug's absence. Hiccup sat next to him and pulled out a knife, scrubbing the scales off their salmon.

"I thought Meatlug only ate rocks?" Jazz wondered as the gronkle joined Toothless, "Not that, you know. Eating fish is more bizarre than rocks. No offense, Meatlug."

Hiccup glanced at Fishlegs to gauge his reaction. Of course, the intricacies of boulder class diets were relatively harmless, but considering the topic at hand was about Meatlug, Hiccup felt that it wasn't his place to explain it. He went back to preparing their salmon as he waited.

Fishlegs did eventually answer, "She prefers rocks, sure, but she'll eat fish if she needs to." His tone was a bit more wary than he usually was when talking about Meatlug, but there was a small smile on his face.

"And I take it she's allergic to eels, too?" Jazz asked, and Hiccup tactfully ignored the side-eye Fishlegs sent him.

"Uh, yeah." He responded, sounding on the verge of shutting down. He began burying his nose back into the dragon manual, and Hiccup took that time to pipe up.

"Hey, Jazz!" He asked, and she whipped towards him with widened eyes. He sent her the most innocent smile he could, "Fish and I were talking. Do you think you could use some of that psychology of yours to convince a certain someone" – he side-eyed a totally distracted Toothless – "to answer some questions for our manual?"

If it was possible for a human's eyes to glow, Jazz Fenton's did. "I would love to do that." She deadpanned, and instantly began pacing, "I wonder how different dragon psychology is from human psychology, though. It may take some trial and error – not that we're using Toothless as a guinea pig, but –"

Hiccup snuck a glance towards Fishlegs as she continued to ramble – that cautious look was still on his face. Hiccup could imagine him treading thin ice like that. But as Jazz continued to speak, excitement began to chase it away.

Hiccup smiled, and continued to prepare their dinner as Jazz constructed an interview plan.

The next couple days were filled with that exactly. Save for one close call with the crew and their suspicion of their Entry Crate, it seemed their gamble in blaming it on the wake paid off.

Any remaining reservations Fishlegs held towards Jazz's training were swept out the door when Jazz got Toothless to sit down with them for an interrogation session on Christmas Day.

Toothless did not know what dinosaurs were. Dinosaurs were, apparently, large lizards that died out millions of years ago. Jazz promised to do more research once she had felt like the only present Hiccup received for the rest of the session.

Most of the information they got from Toothless was rather rudimentary – which wasn't by any means disappointing, but it was still cause for concern. For some reason (Hiccup's theory was the Red Death's brain washing) Toothless couldn't give much information on Night Fury flock structures.

But as that trend of unknowing continued for a disturbing time, Hiccup's theories began changing. And when the topic of where other night furies were came up, he had to throw it out the window.

Hiccup had been expecting another round of shrugging and vague charades, but he was not expecting the way Toothless fidgeted through his conveyances, which were "Far" and "Scared".

The other Night Furies were Far (which he'd kind of expected), and Scared.

That unsettled Hiccup more than a fair amount – even more so with Toothless' delivery . He still would have been reasonably concerned if Toothless was upset about these pretty upsetting facts. But he just dropped these bombshells with a straight face.

Seeing the others' reaction to this vindicated Hiccup's feelings, and soon afterwards, a dinner break was called for. Hiccup didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved about it.

"Well…I don't know about you guys, but I'm sick of fish," Jazz eventually stated, trying to compensate for the soured mood with a bright smile, "I'm going to try and sneak into the kitchen for a Christmas Splurge. Either of you wanna come with?"

Hiccup knew what she was trying to do, but he wasn't going to call her out on it. In fact, he was also getting a bit sick of fish. He dragged his gaze away from Toothless, who was sleeping as though he hadn't been discussing some gut-wrenching implications just a few minutes prior. He just needed to get out of this nook."I'll come. What about you, Fish?"

"I think I'll stay here…" Fishlegs said, tapping his pencil against the sparse additions to the Night Fury entry, and Hiccup knew better than to try and interrupt him when he brainstormed, "bring me something though, would you?"

"Of course," Hiccup cracked, averting his gaze from the Dragon Manual.

Gray clouds and frigid air whipped around them as they snuck their way inside the ship, blocking any view of the sunset. When the heat from the AC hit Hiccup he couldn't help the small twinge of jealousy. Because, of course, as a stowaway, he has every right to be jealous. Obviously.

(It was better than the worry twisting in his gut)

It took a while to find the kitchen, but the ship was so large and the crew was so small that their "sneaking" was really just peeking around corners before continuing their path.

"All clear," Jazz whispered, barging into the industrial kitchen. It appeared the crew's dinner that night was going to be a soup of some sort – a few pots were simmering on the stove.

"We'd better make this quick," Hiccup commented upon noticing that Jazz was already ripping open cabinets.

"What do you think is the most luxurious thing we could steal without them noticing?" She asked.

"I dunno, fruit?" Hiccup suggested half-heartedly. Toothless' words had soured his appetite.

"You okay?"Jazz finally asked.

His hands may have slipped against the cabinets at her words. He tried his best to cover it up by scrambling for a…pan, apparently. Wrong cabinet. "I'm fine." He strained, zeroing in on a completely different cabinet – one that would keep his back facing her.

It seemed he fooled her – a silence settled over them as their search for snacks continued. Well, for about thirty seconds. Hiccup's worries seemed to grow much too large for his head, "He was way too nonchalant about that, right?" he whirled towards Jazz, and she turned with slightly widened eyes. Not that Hiccup paid much mind. "I mean…Far? Scared? What the Hel is that supposed to mean?"

Jazz had just the slightest bit of vindication in her gaze, and it made Hiccup sigh. He waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, go on. Say "I told you so…"."

"I'm not going to do that." Jazz deadpanned.

Hiccup scoffed, picking up what looked like a squash of some sort. Not exactly snack-worthy, but he needed to be doing something with his hands. "It just…doesn't make sense." He muttered.

"Well, I think "far" makes at least some sense." Jazz countered.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about…" Hiccup twisted the squash in his hands. It let out a hollow thunk as he tapped on it.

"Well, 'scared' doesn't seem all that cryptic, either." She said.

"It doesn't matter if it's cryptic or not," Hiccup couldn't help but snap, "it's the fact that – well, it's two facts, really. One) that Night Furies have something to be scared of, apparently, and Two) my dragon seems to think that it's not a big deal!"

"How long have you two known each other?" Jazz asked, and Hiccup was just a bit too frazzled to question the relevance of it.

"It'll be five years in the summer." He muttered, and then, well, remembered their current predicament. He opened his mouth to correct himself, but Jazz beat him to it.

"I know what you mean." She picked up a bag of walnuts, "But you said Berk knew about Night Furies before that?"

Hiccup nodded numbly. Jazz hummed, apparently displeased with the walnuts, "It's entirely possible Toothless doesn't understand the depth of the situation."

It could also be entirely possible that they're entirely misconstruing his words, but Hiccup knew his dragon. Also, "scared" was a bit hard to mistranslate, even for a dragon. If scared was one of the first things Toothless felt was most important to describe his entire species as, something was wrong. As in, incredibly, horribly, no-dragons-left-in-the-21st-century wrong.

Hiccup also didn't really appreciate the way Jazz had said that – it felt like an insult to his dragon's intelligence. "Toothless knows what death means, Jazz."

"Well, of course he does." She said, "But if he's been in the archipelago as long as you suspect he's been…wouldn't it be possible that he was too young to understand what there was to be scared of?"

"I don't know," Hiccup grumbled, "I mean, I was raised to fear dragons. I took that to heart."

"Really?" the ghost of a smile was on Jazz's face, and Hiccup couldn't help but snort.

"Apparently I had a stuffed Nadder as a baby."

"Apparently?" She repeated, just a bit of humor in her tone.

"I wouldn't go anywhere near it." Hiccup deadpanned, "That fear was pretty much instinct. I can't see how it would be any different for a dragon hatchling."

Considering Jazz was not the dragon expert of the two, she only hummed, "Could be compartmentalization, then. Ancients know that's what my brother does."

The idea the dragons could compartmentalize was intriguing, but the mention of Daniel Fenton was even more so. He was desperate enough to move on from the current conversation that he blurted out, "What does your brother have to compartmentalize?"

It seemed that Jazz realized her mistake the moment it had left her lips, she was the epitome of a deer in headlights as she stuttered, "o-oh, ah…nothing…"

Again, her conversation with Aunt Alicia was playing in Hiccup's head – as was the Juvenile Nightmare's fate. Against his better judgment, Hiccup set down his Emotional Support Squash and joined Jazz where she was crouched at her array of knee-height cabinets, "I only ask because…okay, I may have overheard you and your aunt's conversation at the cabin."

To his surprise, Jazz didn't seem all that shocked at that information. Perhaps he should have put on a better show with the translator. "I figured you had." She sighed, apparently finding something of interest in the very, very back of the cabinet which, lucky for her, meant that they couldn't share eye contact. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but it's – it's nothing, really."

Hiccup studied the industrial lights on the ceiling. There were actually quite a few cockroaches in them. Gross. "Your aunt didn't seem to think it was nothing." He admitted.

"My aunt sees us about twice a year, Hiccup." Jazz's voice echoed just a bit inside of the metal cabinet, "Trust me, she knows nothing."

That made him duck until his face was amidst the shelves, too. "Yeah, but I think you do." He pressed, and she paused again. "I mean, you just convinced a dragon to sit down for a therapy session. And despite what your aunt thinks, I doubt you're…too close to see anything." He scoffed at the notion.

Jazz had allowed them to learn more about the Night Fury population in two days than they had in four years . Jazz Fenton knew her shit. "Seriously…what does Daniel have to compartmentalize?"

Jazz was quiet for a very long time. Long enough that Hiccup's eyesight began to adjust to the dimness of the cabinet. He hesitated for a few seconds before biting the bullet. "I heard something about an accident?"

It was as if the realization that he knew about that tipped the cards, because Jazz deflated – almost in defeat. She finally retreated from the depths of the cabinet, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah." She croaked, and Hiccup was genuinely concerned at the amount of fear in her voice. It almost made him tap out. Almost.

But that's exactly what he'd done with Toothless, hadn't he? And, really, ignoring the problem wasn't doing his dragon any good. He felt a need to…he didn't know, pay her back, somehow. She was helping him with his brother in everything but species, and so it was only fair that he helped her sort out her own kin's issues.

"What happened?" He ventured, sliding down the cabinets until he was sitting next to Jazz. She seemed to be finding the light fixtures as interesting as he had a few moments ago.

"...I-I wasn't there," She finally admitted, and her hands began to shake, seeing something beyond the cockroaches in the light fixtures. "Um…it was a lab accident?" She stuttered out, rubbing at her eye hastily.

"Your parents' lab?" Hiccup asked, and she nodded sporadically.

He had to hold back a cringe – he'd only been down there twice, but from what he'd seen, there didn't seem to be many safety measures in place. And coming from someone who, admittedly, teetered just on the wrong side of Blacksmith Safety Standards, that meant something.

"Was he hurt?" Hiccup asked. He couldn't remember anything remarkable about Daniel's appearance, given the one time he'd seen him up close, but he had to assume that "lab accident" would indicate some sort of bodily harm. Not that there weren't moments in the forge that made Hiccup question his mental health, but…

"Can we not talk about this?" Jazz suddenly snapped, which told him, yes, there was some sort of bodily harm.

He held back a flinch at the sudden shift in tone. Her fists were now clenched so tightly that the shaking – and blood flow – had ceased, and Hiccup took that as his cue to drop the subject.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

Jazz looked like she wanted to say 'it's okay', but knew that it wouldn't be believable. She took a calming breath instead, closing her eyes in a sort of meditation.

Hiccup knew nothing about this psychology stuff. He knew almost nothing about Daniel Fenton. And yet, his morbid curiosity only grew. He couldn't help but notice that Jazz was being incredibly vague about the entire thing – and again he had to wonder how bad of an accident it had to be for Daniel to still be affected by it years later. Even by Jazz's own admission, the accident's effects were significant enough that Daniel felt the need to compartmentalize . Hiccup did that with very few bodily injuries.

His gaze fell to his prosthetic awkwardly, and he pursed his lips.

Jazz opened her eyes with a sigh, relaxing considerably.

At risk of one-upping Daniel, Hiccup cracked, "Well, at least he didn't lose his leg."

That seemed to lighten the mood – Jazz snorted pretty suddenly, and then promptly seemed horrified that she'd laughed at that. "Wait, you had it amputated ? How?"

"Oh, Toothless bit it off."

"What!?"

"To be completely fair, we were falling to our deaths."

"Hiccup."

"And there was a lot of fire…"

" Hiccup ." Jazz lamented, and apparently that revelation was too much to sit on. She stood up, looking like an alarmed parent as she glared down at him.

Hiccup couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, how did you think I lost it?"

"I dunno," Jazz cracked, raking her hands through her hair, "I thought you were just born that way, or something!" As Hiccup began laughing even harder, she turned away, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't have time for this! We need to talk about you vikings and your propensity to minimize disabilities."

Rolling his eyes, Hiccup began to stand. A sense of relief burst in his chest as the awkwardness evaporated, and he began to consider it a timid victory, but it was at that point that the ship decided to tilt. The force sent both of them slipping on the linoleum into the adjacent cabinets with a resounding crash. Various materials cushioned their fall.

"Ugh…" Hiccup groaned, picking a bag of some sort of potato off his chest, "I think that's our cue to leave."

The boat evened back out, and Jazz sat back up, pulling a small package off her head with a similar groan. Instead of annoyance, however, her eyes instantly brightened. "Oh, Bingo …"

"Bingo?" Hiccup repeated as he tentatively stood, because that was a 21st century phrase he had yet to hear.

"Jackpot!" Jazz rephrased, hopping to her own feet and thrusting her spoils in his face, "Chocolate chips!"

"Well, then, Merry Christmas." Hiccup chuckled as the ghost of Daniel Fenton's discrepancies slipped into the background.

Astrid had long ago come to accept the fact that the Butterfly Effect's wings would always find a way to reach her.

Obviously she didn't have a name for it at the time she'd first discovered it, but its namelessness did not prove to be a weakness.

It first appeared in a dragon's paralyzing mist calling slander on her family name, and stayed. She considered it a curse, right up to the moment that it let her unmanaged teenage rage lead her into a cove with a night fury and a squirrely runt.

Then it was less-so a curse, and more of a…demand. A demand that led her to discovering the effects of the Flightmare Mist. A demand that led her to naming Stormfly.

A demand that now had her sneaking into Casper High during its winter break to inspect its gym floor.

"So?" Sam's voice echoed in the cold, dusty room.

Scuffing her boot against the hardwood, Astrid let out a hum. The gym was truly no bigger than the training area on Dragon's Edge, which was already smaller than the Dragon Academy back on Berk, but Astrid was in no way complaining. It was better than clearing the snow in Sam's backyard. Besides, Stormfly seemed to enjoy zipping through the rafters.

"Yup, it'll work." She answered, and Sam let out an excited hiss, pumping her fist.

Stormfly squawked in her own agreement from far above, blue feathers flittering in the orange sunset streaming through the windows – their only source of light. Astrid looked over her shoulder at the dim lighting with a twinge in her brow. "And you're sure no one will interrupt us?"

Not that she thought what they were doing was necessarily illegal. Necessarily.

Sam shrugged off her question as if it was a nonissue, stepping into the middle of the court with echoing footsteps. "Nah. This is the auxiliary gym. Only people that use it after hours are the peewee basketball team, and that's on Thursdays."

Being that it was currently the day after Christmas, it was safe to say that wouldn't be much of an issue.

"Alright, then," Astrid clapped her hands, sending her student a sly smile, "Let's get started."

Compared to the rest of the dragon riders (and, frankly, most of Team A), Sam was a top tier student. It helped that she was already athletically inclined. Considering Astrid hadn't seen Sam go out of her way to work out, she had to assume her physique was due to the vigilante work. Perhaps it was the cause of her mental fortitude, too. Even with Astrid's 'drill-sergeant' reputation on full display, Sam didn't utter a single complaint.

The goth had potential. And a lot of it. That was a trait that Astrid rarely got to work with back home, and it would normally warrant celebration on Astrid's behalf.

Except, for the first time in well, probably ever , the act of combat training was not Astrid's motive.

…But she couldn't just bring up Phantom in the midst of all this. That would be suspicious, especially considering their last discussion about him hadn't exactly been amicable.

And if Astrid was honest with herself, trying to collect information on the cryptid that is Phantom – in an amicable way – was a rather daunting task. Astrid was much more of a 'pain is the best influence' type of person. Hiccup was the diplomat. She had never really envied his silver tongue. She didn't need to, not when she had an axe and two fists. And on the rare occasion that she did need Hiccup's delicate touch, he was more often than not by her side.

Right now, though, he was only available through the phone. And she was feeling that loss particularly heavy today.

"Am I doing it wrong?" Sam's question brought attention to the frown on Astrid's face, and she blinked rapidly.

"What? No!" She forced a smile instead, circling Sam as she studied her incredibly impressive form, "It's actually almost perfect, just…" She nudged Sam's heel a bit further outwards, "nitpicking."

Astrid hesitated and then decided that poking the bear was worth it, "You never took me as the athletic type. I'm impressed."

Sam flushed at the compliment, "Thanks. To be honest it's probably from helping Danny out so much. I was pretty strong before, so I didn't see much of a difference. But I know Tucker's athleticism has taken a spike since freshman year. He certainly needed it."

Astrid felt very much like a wolf about to pounce at the mention of Phantom. She tried to choose her next words very carefully. "Before…you started helping him?" She asked innocently.

That tidbit must not have been information Sam was comfortable sharing. Her eyes widened in panic, and she was suddenly very interested in her hands. "Uh…yeah…"

Astrid continued before she could clam up, "How did that happen, by the way? You, Tucker, and Phantom?"

Sam blinked, stumbling as her concentration slipped, and she coughed awkwardly. "Oh, I dunno, we just…" She shrugged sardonically, "started."

"How?" She pressed.

It seemed that one word was too daunting, because Sam obfuscated, "I don't see what this has to do with my training."

Irritation fluttered in Astrid's chest. Gods, this reminded her of Hiccup – his flightiness in the woods all those years ago. Small answers and smaller eye contact, despite her aggressive approach.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Astrid came to realize that she had, again, come on too strong. She reeled back, shrugging nonchalantly, "I'm figuring out a timeline. Depending on your past skills, we may be able to move onto more intermediate techniques." He hesitated, before deciding to lay on the sugar, "And from what I'm seeing, that's a major possibility."

Again, Sam responded well to the compliment, a smile rolling across her features. The logic seemed to chip away at her defensive walls, "I guess that makes sense."

Astrid demonstrated the next pose, hoping the distraction would break them down even more. "So?"

The goth stacked her body into a mirror image of Astrid's, "...Well, we started two years ago. Mostly just cardio. Some climbing. We had to squeeze into some tight spaces to help him with the 'Ghost of the Week'." She rolled her eyes sardonically.

"And he didn't push back?" Astrid blurted. At Sam's furrowed brow, she added, "Sorry, just curious…I mean, he's not exactly a team player."

What did you do to win him over?

Taking a composing sigh, Sam tightened her form. "He used to be…" she muttered under her breath, and something bitter began curdling the atmosphere.

"Really?" Astrid pulled out of her stance and began scrutinizing her student's, "That's a lot of risk. I'm surprised he let you do it at all." She adjusted Sam's elbow.

"You're one to talk," the goth remarked, making a laugh bubble out of Astrid.

"I'm a Viking." She stated, because that was an answer in itself.

Sam snorted. "Touche…"

Astrid stopped nitpicking Sam's form. So Phantom originally accepted the help, but now he was pushing it away. That was something Astrid was already aware of, but she still didn't know why . He obviously cared for Sam and Tucker (or at the very least had some sort of stakes lying on them), so the obvious choice was that he was worried , but…Sam and Tucker were hardly helpless. Unlike the majority of Amity Park, they could hold their own against a ghost – even without combat training.

…Which, incidentally, Phantom also didn't have.

Astrid felt her brows scrunch together again, but she couldn't get them to loosen. Phantom's fighting style was just on the wrong-end of home-grown to really be scrutinized, so a reliable timeline was out of the question.

Was he a rookie when Sam and Tucker began helping him?

It would make sense. Astrid could see plainly why Phantom would recruit Tech-Whiz Tucker, but Sam's athletic skills were…frankly, negatable compared to the inhumane abilities the ghost possessed. Recruiting her was a choice that the shield maiden was struggling to figure out.

"Does Phantom need the help?" She ventured. Maybe there was something she was missing – a skill that Sam had forgotten to mention. She was rich, after all. Maybe she was paying for something. (Though, why a ghost would need anything of monetary value was beyond her…)

"Eh, not as much as he used to," Sam admitted, "but Tucker and I still worry. Old habits die hard, I guess…" She nearly lost her balance again.

Realizing that her musing had left Sam rather unattended, Astrid jumped to make up for it, directing the goth to begin moving between the two poses. Sam was incredibly wobbly at first, but her movements ironed out in a way that screamed of her potential.

Maybe that's what Phantom saw? Potential?

But for what? And besides, what could he even teach Sam?

"Slowly," Astrid warned at the goth's proficiency to speed through the poses, "You're just trying to get a feel for them right now."

"Right," Sam responded, and her movements dipped to a crawling pace.

A silence lapsed as Astrid planned her next move, and she couldn't help but dote on the edge of awkwardness it had.

Gods, she wasn't good at girl talk. It was never something she took particular interest in. She'd spent her childhood training for war. And even if she didn't, the only other girl among her agemates was Ruffnut. And let's be completely transparent, Ruff wasn't exactly the type of woman you go to talk about girly things with.

No, that was Heather.

Another pang of grief hit Astrid in the chest. Despite their rather unprecedented start, Astrid had found – especially after Heather's brief stint at the Edge – that there was a value to…girlhood. She hadn't really thought she'd missed out on anything. Because she was Astrid Hofferson, Berk's upcoming protege, trainer of the deadly nadder, future chieftess. She didn't need girl friends .

But then Heather was just…there. And despite Astrid's proficiency for awkward silences, and her clunky attempt at gossiping, she'd stayed. Astrid didn't know how to do any of those things, but it didn't matter because Heather didn't either. Their moments together were a type of awkwardness that aligned on the same wavelength. It just worked .

Heather was the girl who taught Astrid how to gossip – about boys, about parents, about the stupidest little things. She was one of the only people outside of Hiccup that Astrid could drop her guard around. She was a companion that Astrid had, once upon a time, been adamant that she hadn't needed. In a way, they'd taught each other how to be… women . Not warriors, just…people. Friends. Anchors, in a time of chaos.

Astrid's gaze snapped back to Sam.

…maybe Sam's combat skills weren't the reason Phantom latched on to her.

Finally, Astrid's brow unfurrowed. A puzzle piece snapped into place.

Sam had known Phantom before he started fighting other ghosts.

Straightening, Astrid nodded to herself. "Alright." She said, noticing the diminished shaking in Sam's posture, "Faster."

It only occurred to Danny after he knocked that Ember's lair could actually be the next door down.

In his defense, he didn't tend to come visit her often, even though they were on good terms. Well. Good-ish terms. Well… at the very least, he knew this was the correct cluster of lairs. Still, the idea of some poor sap opening their door to find the not-ghost-king behind it was making him cringe preemptively.

"Please be the right door," He whispered under his breath. He should probably be hoping that Ember was home at all , too, but before he could consider that, the entrance cracked open.

"...Babypop?" Ember sounded thoroughly confused. Definitely a bit annoyed. Danny let out a large sigh of relief, because at least she doesn't fall for that "Ghost-King" mumbo-jumbo. Though he guessed he should have expected that from a punk-rocker.

"What's up, Ember." He placed his hands on his hips in an attempt to look upbeat, but he was fairly certain it just made him look more defeated, "You got a minute?"

She neither said yes or no. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and she slowly floated to the side, giving Danny just enough leeway to enter. Her lair resembled a dressing room more than it did a home, but there was a charm to it that didn't make it feel commercial.

Directly across from him was a kitchenette, to his left was a worn couch with a cluttered coffee table sitting in front of it, and to the right rested a tv stand. On either side of rested guitar stands, one boasted her usual electric rig, and the other was empty. Sheets of music, cassette tapes, and even a record player, were strewn on just about every surface. There was a door just to the left of the kitchen that led to either a bathroom or a bedroom (not that ghosts necessarily need either of those things, but sometimes the commodities are therapeutic).

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Ember droned, closing her door with a not-quite slam. Danny turned in time to see her roll her eyes, "I don't have to curtsey, do I?"

"Oh like you would anyway," Danny snorted, and that finally managed to pull a smirk out of her. He chewed on his tongue as she floated back to her couch, picking a guitar back up. Acoustic, oddly enough.

"You want anything to eat?" She snarked, "Kitty brought me this atrocity that she calls a casserole, which is honestly such a Suburban Mom thing that I laughed in her face, but I guess she needed the practice since her and Johnny's anniversary is coming up…" She trailed off, and Danny's core suddenly picked up sorrow in the air. Concern blossomed in his gut, but Ember shook it off before he could speak on it. "Anyways. It's in the fridge if you want some."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Danny admitted as his host sat on the back of her couch, "I get enough bad ecto-contaminated food at home."

"Fair point, Mr. Beating Heart." Ember muttered, a few melancholy chords started gracing the air. He watched her boot tap against the seat cushions with slightly pursed lips.

"...Has Skulker been around recently?"

Ember's absent-minded strumming abruptly stopped. Her face turned to stone, but her hair flared dangerously – Danny's fists clenched preemptively.

It seemed that the rocker was well aware of her display, because she promptly shook off the tension in her shoulders. Her hair lost a few inches in height. "I don't see how that's any of your business." She dismissed with a bit of a growl. The strumming resumed, slightly sharper than before.

Danny quirked an eyebrow. "...I'll take that as a no." He said, which was deeply concerning – the bitterness emanating from her core was even more so.

Again, he glanced around the room. He knew that Ember and Skulker hadn't technically merged lairs yet, but he expected at least a few possessions of the hunter's to be strewn around the place.

And yet, all he could see was sheet music. His concern grew even more.

Because if Skulker couldn't come visit his girlfriend, then –

"Wait, you guys are still dating, right?" He squeaked.

Ember deflected with a snap, "is that really what you came for? To ask about my relationship status?"

"What? No!" Danny exclaimed nervously, "I'm just – looking for Skulker!"

" Why ?" Ember seethed, and Danny's eyes widened as her core flared in a warning.

"No way…" he gave her a once-over, "You guys actually broke up."

Damn. That put a wrench in his plan.

The fire in Ember's gaze promptly dissipated, like his words had reopened the wound. She averted her gaze just a bit too late, and Danny frowned at the sight of tears welling in her eyes, "So, what?" She spat, voice cracking horrendously.

"So, what?" Danny repeated with a scoff, joining her on the back of the couch, "C'mon, Ember, you guys aren't exactly Johnny and Kitty! What happened?"

He had the urge to reach out to her, but he figured that an ice core's presence wasn't what she needed right now. He retreated a few inches.

At first, Ember's face twisted first with rage – enough of it that Danny feared he'd need to find a fire extinguisher – but then it turned into a trembling type of fury that left her vibrating.

"I don't – I don't know!" She screeched, and suddenly her guitar was smashing against the wall just above her TV. Danny jumped about a foot in the air and stayed there, knees curling into his chest as she leapt to the middle of the room.

"He just –" She began again, but the tightness in her voice stopped her from continuing. Her fists trembled with blue flame, "...left."

Danny waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. Hesitantly, he unfolded himself, floating just inches closer to the bristling ghost, "is that all…?"

There was a sniffling; Ember jutted her head away from his point of view, wiping her nose. "I didn't let you in so you could play therapist, Phantom." She growled, and despite her current state, her aura flared pretty intimidatingly.

Danny pushed down the warning signs. Floating inches at a time. "Well it's a good thing I don't have a psychology degree, then." Poking his head around until he found her face, he attempted a smirk, "You got the wrong Fenton kid for that."

Ember scoffed in annoyance and, with a wet eye roll, went to pick up what remained of her guitar. A silence lulled as she weighed it in her hands morosely. Danny felt his lips press together.

"How long ago?" He asked.

"Oh for the love of –" Ember whirled on him, forcing him back onto the couch, "Can you not catch a hint? I don't want to talk about it!" Her hair was flickering at the ceiling again, and Danny's core pulsed an apology, but irritation was beginning to curl in his gut.

"You think I want to, either?" He snapped, pushing off the couch to hover over her, "Look, I'm sorry you guys broke up, but from what I can tell, Skulker's gone off the deep end, and I don't even know if he's in the same timeline anymore!"

Ember wasn't the type of ghost to show fear. She hid that behind anger, which was a pretty good deterrent considering her power level. But it was there now, mixed with a bit of bewilderment, yes, but there. It simmered below the surface as her hands dropped to her sides. " What?"

Danny blinked, breaking the staring contest they'd been holding. He reeled in his core with a sigh, "Look, I'm not here to play therapist, I'm here cuz I need your help." He took a composing breath, placing his hands back on his hips, "I think Skulker knows the ghost that stole the Infimap."

Something like finality settled on his tongue at that statement. It felt like saying it out loud – not being able to take it back – made it real.

Ember's head tilted millimeters at his words. Only her hair flickered as she stared. It occurred to Danny that she may not even know about the theft, and he just about opened his mouth to explain.

But then she began to laugh.

It promptly devolved into a cackling fit that made Danny want to reach for the door, but he forced himself to remain rooted until she stopped, "Oh, oh , that bastard." Another cackling fit, "Everything makes sense now!"

"Everything?" Danny repeated, and even though he was entirely unsure of what to ask for, optimism pulsed in his core.

Ember ran her fingers through her hair to compose herself. "Ancients…" She said, and then her face promptly twisted angrily, " Ancients."

"Are you gonna shed some light for me?" Danny asked, perhaps a bit annoyedly, but at least it got her attention again.

"I should have connected the dots," she said, sinking back onto her couch. Danny hesitated before joining her, taking care to stay on the opposite side. "Ever since that hunting trip…"

"What hunting trip?" Danny asked, because Skulker has admittedly been on many .

An annoyed sigh hinted that Ember was coming back to herself. Still, she answered, "A few months ago he went on a hunting trip to a deeper part of the Infinite Realms." She stated, just on the verge of monotone.

"A few months as in…September?" Danny inquired, but Ember shook her head.

"Nah, this was back in…June, I think. I remember because he was complaining about Bear Season ending before he left." She blinked rapidly, as if remembering something. "I'd say he came back around a week later, but to be completely honest with you, Babypop…I don't think he did."

Danny hesitated, "Like…someone else was controlling his suit, or…"

Ember was shaking her head before he even finished, "No, it was him , he was just… off . Different. I thought he was sulking because he came back empty-handed, but then the Far Frozen lost track of that map of theirs, and he went off the deep end."

"So you mean he stole it?" Danny asked, and Ember scoffed at the idea,

"No. We were out on a double-date. With Johnny and Kitty. Ancients ," she spat after a moment, claws ripping into the couch cushions, " how did Johnny and Kitty outlive us? They're on their, what, 27th break up? And what would Skulker even want with that map, anyway?"

"I feel like that's a question I'm supposed to be asking you…" Danny grumbled, and Ember sighed relentlessly. He didn't feel the need to press her on it, she didn't seem to have the energy to lie about something like that. He waited for her anger to subside before asking, "do you know what happened? On the hunt, I mean?"

Slumping into the cushions, Ember hugged her decimated pillow to her chest. "What do you think?" She grumbled.

Joining her in her disappointed slumping, Danny sighed, cursing under his breath.

"That's not very Kingly of you, Babypop." Ember droned.

Danny only repeated the curse, much louder, and she snickered.

They both stewed on that couch, fire and ice agreeing for once in their mutual frustration, for quite a few minutes before Ember piped up, "So my ex is in cahoots with a thief, huh?"

"...yup." Danny responded, eyes not leaving the opposite wall – the crack from the guitar's impact that was starting to meld itself whole. He began to nod, but then stopped himself, brows furrowing. "Well – I dunno. But if you think he is, then he's gotta be, right?"

Ember hummed again – that cryptic neither-yes-nor-no sound – and gave him a half-lidded look. "You could snoop through his lair. If you can find it, that is. He has it on this randomized…thing. Changes location every couple days."

"On that big island of his?" Danny asked, and she nodded. Scoffing, he waved her off. "Then that makes it easy."

Ember raised an eyebrow as he stood, skepticism clear on her face. Which would normally offend him, but as it stood it was better than tears. "You know I never even got a key to that place?" She said, and in response Danny shrugged.

She snorted. "Well. If you find it, you mind grabbing some of my stuff? They'll be the only things with actual taste in there."

Danny figured, with all that she'd done for him today, that was the least he could do. Giving a mock salute, he opened the door, "Can do, Ms. McLain."

"Ugh," Ember groaned – and there she was, the snarky rocker he knew, "Don't call me that."

Danny's hubris turned into his downfall, as it tended to do. What he expected to be an hour-long escapade on the island that concealed Skulker's lair turned into a two, and then three hour torment that left him late for dinner.

He decided, after getting lost in the sixth consecutive cave, that this mission was a considerable pain in the ass.

The rock walls bounced his frustrated yell around like a ping pong ball, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Too frustrated to navigate his way back through the maze, Danny let his transformation wash over him. His human form passed through the walls of the cave until he hit fresh air – or whatever would be considered 'fresh' in the Infinte Realms.

"This is impossible." He grumbled to himself, dusting off his shoulders before changing back. He dropped to the grass below him with a scowl, feeling like he'd earned the right to pout.

It didn't help that the last (and frankly only) time he'd been here had been around two years ago. And to be completely fair, he'd been more preoccupied with not dying (for a second time) than he was paying attention to his surroundings.

He was half-tempted to borrow the Boo-merang for this, but alas its ongoing mission was a bit more important.

He grumbled, pulling up a section of stringy grass in annoyance. He was pretty sure he escaped that day with a few of those in his teeth.

He paused as he recalled, staring at the grass in his hand.

…He hadn't been the only one being hunted that day.

And he knew for a fact that the other subject had tracking devices.

Getting Valerie Grey to work with him, however, was going to be an entirely new mountain to climb.

Catch the Grimmel Reference haha lololol

Anyways thanks to Extensive_History_of_Lemon_Yogurt for beta-ing the Road Trip section of this (ANDDDD for the amazing birthday gift)! I am, once again, making out with you platonically.

I finished writing chapter 21 a few weeks ago, looked at the MASSIVE word count (14k) and split that bitch into two chapters. So now I'm about...a quarter of the way through chapter 23? Possibly? These chapters are going to be MASSIVE, yall. These arent A, B, and C plots, these are three A plots in a trench coat. I'm trying very hard to make sure there's a section for EACH plot in each chapter, but obviously there are going to be exceptions. The most important thing is that they're all in chronological order so, yall don't have to do TOO many gymnastics. *Staring at my massive wall of notes I have for this fic* I have dug this grave this far. I might as well make it to the center of the earth. (I promise I know what I'm doing)

"It's the simple things in life. Like chicken burgers. And stealing someone else's chicken burger." - user "lighthouseraiders" on tiktok.

Until next time, my lovelies

~ Local Dragon Haunt