Author's note: Guess what! I'm alive! I am actually really surprised how many people ave read my story, and i have 3 favourites! I'm so happy right now! Anyway, now I'm bringing our favourite Night Fury's (or, in this case, Notts Guard) perspective on things. This chapter provides a little bit of backstory into Hiccups life and also gets some plots turning. and, since it is in a dragons perspective, the dragons species all have different names from the Viking variations. so far they are;
Nightmare= Flame-skin
Gronckle= Rock-eater
Nadder= Spike-tail
Night Fury= Notts Guard
Light Fury= Sol's Bane (but they come in way later, oops, spoiler alert!)
Terrors= Little-biter
Zippleback= Two-head
I think that's it, if any other dragon pops up along the way, i'll be sure to put it in the authors notes, so don't forget to check them out. Now the disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own HTTYD or any characters mentioned in this story, all rights of ownership belong to Dreamworks animation and Cressida Cowell (I dont know if i spelt that right or not, but I'm pretty sure that's right). If i did own it HTTYD 3 wouldn't of had an ending that still makes me cry (i'd make it way better, and happier, Hapetter. ...That doesn't sound right, does it.)
Anyway, sorry for the delay but here's Chapter 2 of A New Home!
P.s. I have a profile on Wattpad under the same name, so you can expect to see this on there soon.
Enjoy!
It was just like any other raid. I had woke up to the waning moon rising above the ocean, casting the land in a comforting glow as it brought the night in with it. I had almost no time to enjoy it before the queen awoke, demanding food once again to feed that bottomless pit she called a stomach. The other dragons obeyed almost willingly, like they were happy to serve their queen, which they probably were. The queen had them all under her control, twisting their minds to make them think they were willing servants serving under a righteous queen that wanted nothing more than to help her people. But the truth was far from that.
She made them think they had a choice as she talked to them in soothing, manipulative tones. She told them that she was given them everything, and that they should be eternally grateful, making them think that giving her all the food they caught until they themselves were almost starving was completely normal. She seemed nice, acted like a mother to all the dragons that entered her domain, but she was anything but, and it was made painfully obvious whenever she ate someone. But the others were too far under her control, so when she told them that she didn't like doing it but they were necessary sacrifices, they all believed her.
But not me.
She couldn't control me like she could the others, because I was a Nott's Guard (our cousins, Sol's bane, is like us, but they're white. Although the obvious difference still doesn't stop everyone from mixing up the names. I have been called a Sol's Bane way more then I'd prefer). my species had one of the strongest connections to magic amongst all the dragons, that's why our fire was so powerful, because we had so much magic, that it affected our fire without us even having to cast a spell. Our power was only rivalled by the Bewilderbeasts and that old extinct species of legend no one really cared about. But the queen was strong, and I was still under her control, but not like the others.
The others had no choice but to follow her orders, they were nothing but mindless slaves. I wasn't like that, I could disobey, I just couldn't leave. Every time I tried to leave she was call me back with that accursed song of hers, the one that promised safety and protection and love. I didn't believe the song, but I followed the song back to the queen anyway, I tired to fight it once, I just ended up back at the nest with very sore wings.
My train of thought was interrupted as the Queen told us which island we would be raiding. We were raiding one of the closest ones, the ones the Vikings called Berk. She told me I was leading the raid, and to keep her subjects safe. She told us to stay safe and wished us well before she sunk back into that lake of lava she never leaves. As we left I thought about what she said, and how the others believed her, I was almost sick.
*Nott's Guard!* A Flame-skin yelled from my right. *Are you alright? You look like your about to fall!* I turned to face the Flame-skin. He was one of my only friends inside the nest, well as close as you could be friends with one of the Queens servants.
*I am ok Flame-skin!* I reassured him, he sighed in relief. *Just trying to figure out how you all like that serpent of a Queen so much!* There were many gasps around us as some of the dragons started to whisper about how rude I was. The Flame-skin just laughed.
*I know you think the Queens ways are… unorthodox.* I honestly felt sorry for this man sometimes. *But you must understand that this is only a small price we have to pay for all she has given us.* I was about to yell at him when he must've caught onto my train of thought and interrupted before I could continued. *She gives us a home, and her protection from the Vikings that want us dead. But if you are going to carry on about this, please keep it to yourself, I'd rather not enrage the Queen* I shuddered at the thought of that. Soon we arrived at the island, our group going quiet as they waited for my orders.
*Just like every other time! Flame-skins, protect your flock! Rock-eaters, disable the warriors. Two-heads, distract the Vikings! Spine-tails, get as much food as possible! When the raid is over make sure you all have food for the Queen!* I quickly parted from the group, flying high above them. I looked at the village and crooned in sympathy, before letting loose a roar that was a very clear sign to start the raid.
I waited high above as the battle continued, waiting until the perfect moment. Until then I occupied myself with my favourite pastime, watching that tiny Viking hatchling make a complete fool of himself. I watched as the Flame-skin almost flamed him as soon as he left his wood nest. It was hilarious watching him run, his limbs flailing everywhere and his arms looking like they didn't know what to do. He was extremely clumsy, bumping into many others of its kind before he was yanked off its feet and pulled backwards out of the road of a line of fire from a Rock-eater. I watched as the large Viking yelled at him at threw him away from him, the hatchling quickly catching itself before running off again. I just stopped a sympathetic coo before it came out of my throat. What was I doing! He was a Viking!
A really small Viking, but a Viking none the less. When the hatchling disappeared inside the nest made of stone with the fire inside I turned my attention back to the battle. I picked a tower the Vikings were using as a vantage point and sped down towards it. A blast of plasma left my throat and blew the tower to pieces. I flew past the fire my blast had created and, out of the corner of my eye, saw the hatchling looking at me with awe, and as I sped away his eyes followed me. I freaked out at that, no Viking could see even my silhouette passing by the fire, yet the hatchling obviously did.
I continued to fly around the battlefield, destroying catapults and towers. When there were only a few towers left I spotted the hatchling running up a hill, pushing something that was almost four times his size. I heard a screech from below me, a scream of pure pain, and when I looked down all I could see was a Nadder with a spear embedded deeply in its chest, the Vikings around it yelling happily. Focus, I scolded myself, as fun as it was to watch the hatchling, I still had a job to do.
Very soon there was only one tower left. As a victory shot of sorts I fuelled my next blast with a little bit of magic. The blast I shot flew toward the tower in a blazing, blue glow. It flew straight into the tower, its stability fractured so it exploded it a curtain of blue flame. The tower started to crumble as I flew through the flames. The fire felt warm and comforting on my scales, almost as if it was congratulating me on blowing up a tower. I flapped my wings, time felt like it slowed as the flames curled around me, my wings almost touching below my body before I was about to bring them up.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hatchling on the hill not too far away, one of his many inventions set up in front of him. I would've laughed at the form of his sprawled out body had something not hit me roughly in the side and knocked the wind out of me. I felt a strong grip of something like vines wrap around me, around and around they went, until they had wrapped my wings up entirely. I roared in dismay once I realised I had been hit by one of the Viking ropes used to take dragons down, but how did they hit me, they couldn't even see me! The only one who had ever come close to seeing me was…
My eyes once again landed on the hatchling, it's face happy as it watched me fall. My heart dropped down somewhere to the ground below before it was crushed in the unforgiving claws of disbelief. I didn't understand, I had been watching this hatchling for winters, it couldn't do something like this, it just couldn't. Through all the winters I watched it, it had never hurt anything, I saw how its face dropped whenever it saw the fighting of the raids, how hopeless it looked when one of the dragons were killed, how tears pricked its eyes and how it put a hand over its mouth to stop itself from being sick whenever it saw a dragons blood.
I remembered how many winters ago, when the hatchling was so small and naive that I thought it might shatter like a weak rock if he so much as tripped, it saved a small bird from a raid. It was safe in the stone nest, I remember that, but the next thing I knew it was running straight into the middle of a battle toward a Flame-skin! I honestly don't think it paid attention to the fighting dragons and Vikings around it as it ran straight through the Flame-skin's legs and picked up a small little black bird that got hit by a piece of debris and hurt its wing. I watched in stunned awe as it gingerly picked up the small bird and patted its head, before turning around and walking to the forest.
The Flame-skin freaked out when it saw the tiny little hatchling walk straight underneath him again without a care in the world, and so he did the thing most dragons would do around Vikings and hatchlings, and lashed out at anyone who approached him or the hatchling. It was extremely funny to watch, until the Flame-skin almost flamed the hatchling, then I was scared. It was a well know rule among us dragons that you should never hurt Viking hatchlings, cause not only was it wrong (because they are hatchlings), but it usually meant that, if you did, the entire Viking nest would descend on you like a flock of angry Little-biters. So if he, the Flame-skin, hit the hatchling, they would need to get away from this island fast.
Plus, there was a little part of me that didn't want the hatchling to get hurt. Why should it get hurt when it was just trying to save a poor defenceless bird. So when a piece of debris went flying at him, I didn't hesitate to swoop down there, pick him up, and fly him deep into the forest, where he'd be safe. As I flew I noticed how the hatchling clung to me, but still refused to let go of the bird. When I finally landed, the hatchling stumbled away from me with wide, terrified eyes. To appear less threatening I sat down and cooed and crooned in a comforting way. When the hatchling finally calmed down I turned my head to the side curiously, it must of found that funny because it started laughing, which instantly made me happier.
Obviously the bird did not share the same feelings and started struggling. *Why don't you go put the bird down over there* I suggested softly as I gestured towards a bush. The hatchling quickly moved over and put the bird down where I gestured too, and it quickly hoped away. I stood there, shocked, with my mouth hanging open. I don't know if the hatchling just figured what I was trying to say, or if it actually understood me.
"Papa says a Terror will snatch your tongue if you leave you mouth open like that" the hatchling said cutely in his super high squeaky voice. I quickly snapped my mouth shut and the hatchling started laughing again. What is he, I found myself wondering, Vikings don't laugh and are definitely not gently, but he's both so he can't be a Viking. "I don't think they'll actually do that though, I think they like fish more than tongues". The hatchlings eyes widened and it took a step away from me, "you don't like tongues more than fish, do you?" I snorted at that and shook my head. The hatchling looked happy for a second before his face scrunched up in confusion.
"Papa said that all the dragons are big, bad meanies, that they're evil." He looked down to his face in sadness and I crooned in what I hoped was a comforting way, "he said they killed Mama." My heart seemed to stop at that, the poor little hatchling didn't have a mother, maybe that's why he's always outside, because he doesn't have a mother to keep him cuddled up where it's safe and his Sire was too busy (Don't know why he'd be too busy though, he's always right next to the little hatchling in the stone nest. At least, I think that's his Sire). "But you're not like them, right? You're nice" he said it as more of statement than a question, but he voiced was laced in uncertainty and fear, so I made sure he knew I was nice.
*You're right, I'm not like them* I said as I nuzzled the small amount of messy fur on his head.
"Thought so" the hatchling replied with such certainty it made me feel warm. Wait, did he just understand me again? "Can we be friends?" He asked, his little eyes wide with hope.
I opened my mouth to say of course, determined not to use any body language to see if he could actually understand me when- "HICCUP!"- an extremely loud voice rang through the forest.
"That's Papa!" The hatchling cried excitedly before grabbing my face and attempting to pull me towards the voice, "if you come and say hi to him I'm sure he won't think dragons are evil anymore". He said it with such conviction that I was a little sad that his naivety actually let him believe that.
*No, I'm sorry Hatchling but-*
"HICCUP!" I looked up and saw a Viking with the big red mane and eyes that were more scared than angry, and next to him I saw the Hatchlings sire, the one with the golden fur and the fake paw and leg.
"Papa!" The hatchling yelled excitedly before running towards the two. I didn't wait to see what one he ran to, or if he made it there without tripping (wouldn't be surprised if he did), before I flapped my wings hard and took to the skies quicker than any of the Vikings could react. As I flew off I heard the little hatchling excitedly exclaim "I have a Night Fury for a friend!" And in that second I knew that the hatchling wasn't Viking. He just befriend me, a Notts Guard for Moons sake! There was no way he could kill a-
I crashed into a tree very, very hard, snapping out of my thoughts. The giant of a tree immediately split as I flew through it, peeling more than a few scales of in the process. I then crashed face first into a giant stone that was just conveniently where my head was going to land. I heard the scales on my head crack more than feel it, but I definitely felt more than heard as my body went tail over head and rolled down a hill, coming to stop in a ditch. I lay there panting for breath. My limbs all ached and I was sure I had broken ribs, luckily my wings were fine, although they're extended at weird angles that hurt and I couldn't pull them in because of the damn Viking ropes! I felt blood trickle down my forehead from a gash on my head, couldn't do anything but blink rapidly to try stop it from getting into my eyes. I struggled at my bonds but the tighter I pulled, it felt like the tighter they got, and the more they dug into my scales.
I could feel every single chipped scale, every gap in my back where a scale had been torn off, every stabbing pain from the shattered scales that littered my forehead. But the weirdest thing was, it didn't hurt, not nearly as much as how much my heart ached. I was so sure, I just knew the hatchling couldn't be a Viking, all the signs were right there, how he flinched, how he cringed, how the tears always lined his eyes whenever he saw a dragon die. I thought he wasn't Viking. I had been so sure. But no matter how i tried to convince myself i found myself thinking the same thought over and over until I blacked out from the pain.
I guess I was wrong.
Well, that's it!
i have a question for you guys. i don't know whether Toothless should loose his tail completely (as in, forever), or have his tail injured for a little while, or have the dragons do some healing magic to bring his tail back.
So I'm leaving the decision to you guys, shall he lose his tail, injure it, or bring it back later. You're choice, the majority wins.
Fury's Fire out!