DISCLAIMER - I DON'T OWN ANYTHING IN THE 'HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON' FRANCHISE
It had been several tense days since the warriors returned from the dragon nest, sharing the grim news about Drago Bludvist. The shock hadn't entirely faded, and the knowledge weighed heavily on everyone. The other Viking tribes were preparing to return to their islands, but before they departed, the Berkians held one final feast—a temporary reprieve before their guests began the long journey home.
Yet, the atmosphere was far from celebratory. Conversations fell into worried murmurs, and the air of moroseness was unmistakable. The Vikings of the archipelago were now contending with a dual threat: not only the ever-present, rampaging wild dragons but also the menace of a madman who claimed dominion over those same beasts. Drago's looming threat cast a long shadow over the night, and the optimism that typically held strong was beginning to wane, especially for the Berkians, who bore the brunt of the dragon problem.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the village, Ack, one of the local herders, charged toward a Deadly Nadder that circled his flock like a hawk eyeing its prey, his axe raised in fierce defiance. The dragon squawked indignantly, lifting its wings in a sharp flap before taking off into the ink-black sky, leaving behind a herd of trembling sheep that quivered in fear.
"He got away, eh?" came Stoick's voice, calm yet wary, as he approached the panting herder, the weight of leadership evident in his posture.
Ack turned to him, wiping sweat from his brow, a mixture of relief and frustration flickering across his face. "Aye, the blasted creatures show up at least twice a day now. Every time, the flock nearly faints from the terror of it."
"What are you doing out here, Chief?" Ack asked, still catching his breath, the urgency of the moment hanging in the air.
"I was on my way to the Great Hall for the feast," Stoick replied, his gaze drifting to the jittery flock, "thought I'd make a last check on everyone."
"Don't expect much progress on the livestock, if that's what you're after," Ack muttered, shaking his head in dismay. "Milk's hard to come by; eggs, even harder."
Stoick sighed, his jaw tightening as the reality of their situation sank deeper. He knew this, yet it stung to hear it confirmed so plainly. In the silence that followed, Ack's voice dropped lower, almost as if he feared the weight of his own words.
"Chief… is what you said about Drago true?"
Surprised, Stoick met his eyes. There was fear there, but something else too—a desperate need for hope, a glimmer of denial that maybe all this was just a rumor, an exaggerated tale born from too many nights spent under the stars, whispering fears.
"Aye, Ack," Stoick said after a long pause, his voice heavy with gravity. "Every word is true. I wish I could say otherwise, but this man, Drago… he's a danger unlike anything we've faced before."
"How can Berk withstand this?" Ack's voice wavered, the weight of their shared predicament pressing down on him. "The dragons alone have nearly brought us to ruin."
"We'll get through it the way we always have," Stoick asserted, his voice steady, though he forced the confidence. "We've never given up in the face of a challenge."
But Ack shook his head, weary skepticism hardening his features. "Our ways haven't held up much against the dragons… and against a man like that?" He didn't look Stoick in the eyes, as if fearing that acknowledgment might shatter whatever hope remained.
Stoick clapped a firm hand on Ack's shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "That's exhaustion speaking, nothing more. Come to the feast, fill your belly, and lift your spirits. You'll see that we're far from finished."
With a faint smile and a reluctant nod, Ack fell in step beside his chief. Yet Stoick's own face darkened as they walked the path; he hadn't the heart to admit he shared the same doubts, the same gnawing fear that lingered in the corners of his mind. As Chief, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of weakness.
They made their way to the Great Hall, where the feast was already in full swing. The rich aroma of roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh bread that passed from hand to hand. Mugs of mead sloshed in hearty toasts, and laughter echoed around the room, each sound a valiant attempt to stave off their worries, if only for a moment.
For Stoick and Ack, the evening passed with good food and fleeting laughter, but it was a bittersweet reprieve. They both knew this would be Berk's last major feast until the next Thing, set to be hosted on Berk's shores. With the dragons assaulting them daily, they couldn't risk leaving their island unguarded for long stretches. The other tribes didn't face the same relentless siege that Berk did, and Stoick could only hope the feast would remind his people that they were united, that they were strong—even as the specter of Drago loomed ever closer, a dark promise of chaos and destruction.
Elsewhere, the feast felt far more bitter than sweet.
Thuggory sat alone, keeping to himself near the edge of the crowd, a specter of desolation amid the vibrant celebrations. Ever since he had made that fateful suggestion to Stoick—an idea that had been nothing short of treasonous in the eyes of his own people—his village had practically shunned him. Thuggory, their very heir, was treated as though he were worse than a traitor. His father had refused to sit with him, friends turned their backs when he approached, and every attempt at conversation was met with cold indifference or, worse, outright disdain.
As he glanced around the hall, watching others huddle together in laughter and merriment, the sting of isolation sank deeper into his chest. His eyes strayed to Hiccup's old place at the table, the empty seat that had once belonged to the scrawny boy they all teased and belittled. Now, in the dim flicker of torchlight, he understood. This must have been how Hiccup had felt every day of his life—an unending struggle against the very people he had longed to belong to.
How did he do it? Thuggory wondered, shaking his head in disbelief. How had Hiccup borne this constant alienation, this cold disregard? The boy had managed to endure it all for years, a silent warrior in a battle no one else had recognized. Hiccup had stayed; he had suffered in silence, hoping things would improve. Now, looking at his own situation—barely lasting through one night of this torment—Thuggory found himself respecting the boy even more. If Hiccup had endured that misery day after day, it was no wonder he had finally chosen to leave when he found someone who offered him love and respect. And thank the gods it had been Toothless who found him, not Dagur or the Outcasts, who would have seen Hiccup as nothing but a target.
With a heavy heart, Thuggory pushed his bowl of stew away, his appetite long gone. No amount of food or drink could wash down the bitter taste of shame and regret that clung to him like a second skin. Silently, he rose from the table and slipped out of the Great Hall, his mind swirling with thoughts of loneliness and despair, planning to head to the small guest hut where he'd been staying. But his quiet escape was interrupted by the last two people he wanted to see right then.
"Thuggory!" came the sharp voice of a familiar figure, slicing through the haze of his thoughts. He turned to find two teens, a little younger than him, their faces twisted in expressions that combined pity and contempt.
"Still sulking in the shadows?" one of them jeered, crossing his arms defiantly. "Thought you might want to join the feast instead of wallowing in self-pity."
Thuggory felt his cheeks flush, a mixture of anger and shame. "I just needed some air," he replied, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.
"Air? Or is it just too hard to face the consequences of your choices?" the other chimed in, their tone dripping with mockery. "You've made your bed, Thuggory. Might as well lie in it."
With each word, the knot in Thuggory's stomach tightened, the weight of their disdain heavy on his shoulders. He took a step back, shaking his head, unwilling to engage further.
"Leave me alone," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it held a firmness that surprised even him.
But they merely laughed, a sound that echoed through the hall like a cruel wind. "Run along then, coward. We'll see you when you're ready to face your own betrayal."
He turned away, retreating into the darkness outside the Great Hall. The crisp night air washed over him, a fleeting comfort against the sting of rejection. In the solitude, he took a deep breath, hoping to gather his strength, though each inhale felt heavier than the last. He was alone, yes, but perhaps this solitude could also be a time for reflection—a chance to reassess who he was and what he wanted to become, away from the scornful glances and bitter words that had become all too familiar.
Blocking his path down the steps from the Great Hall were the two other heirs, their expressions betraying none of the revelry that filled the hall behind them.
"What do you two want?" Thuggory crossed his arms, glaring at his so-called friends, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and disappointment.
"Look, Thug, we know you don't want to see us…" Cami began, her voice hesitant, as if she were walking on fragile ice.
"But you have to see it from our side too," Dogsbreath added, trying to sound calm, though his voice was edged with impatience.
Thuggory threw his hands up, frustration bubbling over like a pot left too long on the fire. "What side? You left me to fend for myself against Stoick and the entire archipelago! They're treating me like I'm an Outcast now!" His voice cracked, revealing the depth of his hurt.
"And what were we supposed to do?" Camicazi scoffed, her arms crossed defiantly. "Join you and make fools of all of us?"
"No, you were supposed to be my friends," Thuggory replied, his voice quieter now, disappointment laced through every word. More than anything, he felt hurt, a gnawing ache that throbbed in his chest.
"We'd have just ended up in the same position as you," Dogsbreath said, shrugging as if it were the simplest explanation in the world, his nonchalance infuriating.
"You don't know that," Thuggory shot back, his jaw tightening. "If all the heirs had spoken up together, maybe it would have made a difference… guess we'll never know." The bitterness in his words hung in the air like fog.
He tried to push past them, but Camicazi sidestepped, blocking his way with an obstinacy that felt both childish and painful. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain the simmering anger that threatened to boil over.
"What more do you have to say?" he growled. "I'm already outcast by my entire tribe. I don't need you two rubbing salt in the wound!"
"Look, Thuggory, we get why you're mad," Camicazi said, attempting to soften her tone, though the irritation was still evident. "But you have to understand it was better this way. If we all spoke up and they didn't agree, we would've ended up like…"
"Like Hiccup," Thuggory finished bluntly, the name hanging heavily between them.
"I didn't—" Camicazi tried to backtrack, but Thuggory cut her off, impatience flaring.
"I don't need you to finish that sentence, Cami," he snapped. "The moment I suggested something that wasn't the typical 'bash it until it's fixed' Viking way, they turned on me. And I realized this is what Hiccup faced his entire life. And the two of you let me take the full brunt of it."
"Oh, so your brilliant plan was that we all get outcast together?" Camicazi retorted, her own frustration surfacing, her posture defensive.
"You really think that would've solved anything?"
"At least we would've had each other!" Thuggory shot back, his voice rising with passion. "Hiccup had no one, and he still kept going. He wanted us to help our villages with what he taught us, and instead, all we've done is sit back and watch everything fall apart."
"Thuggory—" Dogsbreath attempted to step in, trying to calm him down, but the words fell flat.
"No!" Thuggory shrugged his arm off, his anger surging. "Think about what Hiccup went through, and he still did everything he could to protect his village. But you two? You're too afraid of what people might think to do the right thing, even if they can't see it yet!"
He took in their faces, and in that moment, something clicked, a painful realization dawning.
"That's it, isn't it?" he said, his voice hard and unwavering. "You're afraid of becoming outcasts. You'll throw away everything Hiccup showed us, everything he trusted us with, just to keep your people's approval."
He looked between them, a mix of shame and disappointment twisting his expression like a knife. Dogsbreath avoided his gaze, and Camicazi's lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of doubt crossing her features.
"I could almost understand Dogsbreath," he said bitterly. "He knew Hiccup the least. But you, Cami?" He locked eyes with her, his hurt evident. "You talk about how much you care about him, yet it seems like you only care when it's convenient."
Camicazi opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. He was right. As much as she wanted to defend herself, she couldn't. She didn't want her people to see her as "un-Viking." She was the heir of the Bog tribe; she had to set an example. If she talked about things like coexisting with dragons, they'd look at her differently. She'd become a pariah in her own home.
"I may not be the cleverest one of us, but at least I know my priorities," Thuggory said, his voice cold as he turned his back on them, descending the steps into the night.
The two heirs remained rooted in place, watching him walk away, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.
Thuggory kept walking, but the thought of facing the sneers and whispers in his temporary hall made his steps slower, more reluctant. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the cobblestone streets of Berk, but even the beauty of the evening couldn't lift the heaviness in his chest. He spotted an empty bench on the side of the street, a solitary refuge from the judgmental gazes that lingered on him. It seemed better to sit there, letting time pass him by, alone in his thoughts.
As he settled onto the worn wood, the familiar creaks echoed in the quiet, only to be interrupted by a voice that sliced through his solitude. "Is this seat taken?" The tone was confident, almost teasing, yet in that moment, entirely unwelcome.
Thuggory groaned, not bothering to lift his head. "Are you Berk women always this stubborn?" he muttered, hoping his irritation would deter her.
"When it's about something important, yes," Astrid replied with a shrug, taking his groan as an invitation to sit down on the other end of the bench, her presence an unwelcome weight beside him.
"Look…" Thuggory sighed, rubbing his temples as if the pressure could dispel her. "I'm really not in the mood for whatever it is you need."
"Then tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave," Astrid shot back stubbornly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The determination in her gaze was unwavering. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been trying to get one of you heirs alone?"
"And here you are," Thuggory muttered, his voice low and bitter, "talking to the one man the entire archipelago can't stand right now."
"What was that all about, anyway?" Astrid's curiosity was palpable, her brows furrowing as she leaned forward slightly. "I never took you to be the outspoken type, let alone about something like… co-existing with dragons."
Thuggory's shoulders tensed at the mention of the contentious speech he'd given, the words echoing in his mind like a taunt. "So you're not here to tell me how foolish I am, like everyone else?"
"I probably would've… a long time ago," she admitted, a hint of a smile breaking through her stern expression. It caught Thuggory off guard, a flash of warmth in the otherwise cold encounter. "But right now, you're the only one trying anything different. I'm not dense enough to think the old Viking ways will keep working, especially since they haven't for centuries."
He let her words sink in, the mixture of respect and frustration swirling within him. "So, what do you want to ask?" he finally said, resigned to the conversation.
Astrid's expression shifted, seriousness replacing her earlier lightness. "Where's Hiccup?"
The question hit Thuggory like a cold wave, and he turned to face her fully, caught off guard by the intensity in her gaze. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep the crack from his voice. "A-and why would I know where Hiccup is?"
"There's no way you and the other heirs are close with someone you only saw as a kid during the Things," she pointed out, her voice steady as if the answer were obvious. "You've had to have met up in recent years."
Thuggory opened his mouth, but words failed him. She wasn't wrong; there was a bond among the heirs and Hiccup, forged from shared experiences and unspoken understanding that transcended their tumultuous histories. He sighed, lowering his head as he carefully chose his words, feeling the weight of the truth Hiccup had sworn them to keep.
"Please," Astrid's voice softened, transforming into a plea rather than a demand. "Berk… we made a mess when it came to Hiccup. Treated him poorly, drove him away. I can't help but blame myself for not seeing it sooner. I just want to know if he's okay, if he's finally… happy."
The sincerity in her voice struck a chord within Thuggory, and he paused, his frustration giving way to empathy. Maybe Hiccup wasn't as despised as he'd led the heirs to believe. "He… he came to our islands," Thuggory started, his tone becoming more reflective, "but he never stayed long. Said he'd left Berk to find a place for himself." He hesitated, skirting around the deeper truths, the way Hiccup had shared his dreams and fears in fleeting moments. "We each offered him a place to stay, but he always moved on. We only figured out he visited us all when we met up later."
Astrid's shoulders relaxed slightly, absorbing his words. "Do you know where he is now?"
Thuggory shook his head, the honesty in his answer bittersweet. "No. He said he wanted to leave the archipelago entirely, said there was nothing here for him anymore. I'm… sorry."
"It's fine." Astrid managed a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, which held a distant sadness. "Can I ask one more thing?"
Thuggory nodded, wary yet curious.
"Is he happy?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper, laden with unspoken hope.
Thuggory considered her question carefully, replaying memories of Hiccup's brief visits—the way his eyes sparkled with excitement when he spoke of distant lands and strange creatures, but also the shadow of something deeper that seemed to cling to him. "I think he's happier than he was when he left. But… I think there's still something missing, deep down."
Astrid nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip below the jagged cliffs of Berk, casting long shadows across the street. "That's all I needed to know." She stood up, glancing back at him with a faint smile that felt both bittersweet and grateful. "As long as he's happier than he was here on Berk… that's enough for me. Thank you."
"Uh, yeah, no problem…" Thuggory mumbled, watching her walk away, slightly bewildered by the unexpected connection they had forged in that moment. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he returned to the solitude of the bench, "Man, women are confusing…"
The conversation lingered in Thuggory's mind long after Astrid had left. She cared about Hiccup—not just in the way allies care about each other's safety, but deeply enough to worry about his happiness, even after all these years. It was clear she blamed herself for not understanding him when he was on Berk, and her regret seemed genuine.
He shook his head, almost amused. If he ever saw Hiccup again, he'd make sure to smack some sense into him. He could already picture it: one good whack to the back of Hiccup's head and a stern order to turn around, march back to Berk, and to that girl.
She deserved better than to wonder in silence, better than Hiccup wandering off into the world, leaving her guessing. Any girl stubborn enough to track down a Meathead heir to ask after him—and open-minded enough to question her own tribe's ways—was something special.