10. Of night and day
The night held that peculiar stillness that comes just before dawn, when even the most restless souls usually find peace. It was that hour of the night where although you had spent the entire previous hours awake, you finally managed to fall asleep.
But Queen Elsa of Arendelle wasn't sleeping. Again.
She sat at her window seat, watching ice patterns dance across the glass. Again.
Each crystalline formation was a reflection of her wandering thoughts. The aurora painted the sky above in ribbons of green and purple, and she found herself thinking of forest eyes and crooked smiles.
It had been a while since she had seen him. Since winter was passing, and it was nearing spring, the blacksmith's apprentice had gotten the habit of taking more and more prolonged absences from his work. However, she couldn't fault him either, knowing that what he was doing in his absences was rather important as well.
Elsa just wished, sometimes, that she could see more of him. Was she selfish for thinking that?
The soft thump on her balcony made her heart leap into her throat.
Her first instinct was to summon ice, that gathered at her fingertips like loyal soldiers awaiting command. But then-something made her pause.
Somehow, the sound wasn't threatening; it carried a familiar weight.
A small part of her wondered if she was being delusional. But then again, it wouldn't hurt to check now, would it?
Still, caution made her approach the balcony doors slowly, frost spreading beneath her bare feet with each step.
When she pulled back the heavy curtain, her breath caught.
Hiccup stood there, outlined against the snow-painted sky, and something in his posture made her chest ache. His shoulders, usually set with that quiet confidence she'd come to admire, seemed to carry the weight of mountains. Even in the dim light, she could see the shadows under his eyes, the way his hands trembled slightly at his was seriously wrong.
And yet- Elsa wondered- would the viking even be able to tell her? Some things, she knew, he could not tell her. Just like she could not always confide in him.
Another side of having so many secrets. A side that she despised.
She knew that there were some things she still couldn't tell Hiccup. And some that he couldn't tell her. For their own safety. Although the number of secrets were dwindling by the day, there were still layers of each other that they were yet to uncover.
But to be honest- it was as exciting as it was daunting. Elsa loved to speak to the lone viking, each time discovering yet another layer to him. Another dimension of kindness and depth that just seemed to add to his character.
She had to find out.
"Hiccup?" She opened the door without hesitation, winter air swirling around them both. "What's wrong?"
He tried to smile - that crooked, disarming smile that had first made her heart flutter months ago. But it crumbled almost immediately, like a snowbank in spring.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. He looked embarrassed, like he wasn't supposed to be there. Which was true- but Elsa didn't mind.
"I know it's late. I just… I needed…"
She reached for him then, drawing him inside with gentle insistence. His skin was cold - too cold, even for someone who regularly flew through night skies. How long had he been out there, pushing himself and that dragon of his past reasonable limits?
"You're freezing," she murmured, ice powers already reaching out to pull the cold from his body. It was a trick she'd discovered recently - the ability to not just create winter, but to guide it, channel it, even remove it when needed.
Something that was a lot easier when he was around.
"Says the Snow Queen," he attempted to joke, but his voice cracked on the words.
She led him to the window seat, noting how he seemed to gravitate toward the aurora's light. For a long moment, they sat in silence, shoulders touching, watching the sky dance above Arendelle's sleeping form.
"We, uh, learned more now," he finally said, his voice carefully controlled. "About Drago's forces. My- f-friends. T-They've seen things. His army is larger than we imagined, his control over dragons more complete."
Elsa studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the way he wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "Your friends," she repeated softly. "The same ones who've been sending you reports about his movements?"
"Yes." His fingers twisted together in his lap - a nervous gesture she'd noticed appeared only when something truly bothered him. "They… they confirmed some things we'd feared. About his methods, his goals. He's not just building an army - he's erasing entire cultures, remaking them in his image."
"Hiccup." She covered his restless hands with her own, ice meeting callused skin.
"What aren't you telling me?"
He drew a shuddering breath, and she watched as whatever walls he'd built around his pain began to crack. "He reached Berk," he whispered, the words falling between them like shards of broken ice. "My-my home. The village I left. He…"
Understanding dawned like a cruel winter sun.
"Oh, Hiccup." She pulled him closer, feeling him shatter against her as the truth finally broke free.
"My father," he managed, his voice raw. "He killed my father. Destroyed everything. And I wasn't there. I was here, building a life, falling in-"
He stopped, swallowing hard. Was it selfish of her to be disappointed that he had stopped?
"I should have been there. Should have warned them, protected them…"
"Look at me," she commanded softly, turning his face toward hers. Those forest-green eyes she loved were bright with unshed tears. "This is not your fault."
"Isn't it?" Bitter laugh escaped him. "I left them. Ran away because I thought I knew better, thought I could build something that would stop all this. And while I was playing hero, my father died believing in-"
"Believing in you," she finished firmly. "Believing in what you were trying to build."
He stared at her, surprise momentarily overwhelming grief. "How did you…"
"Because that's what parents do," she said softly, thinking of her own father's sacrifice. "They believe in their children's dreams, even when those dreams take them far from home. They protect what matters, even at the cost of everything else."
A sob caught in his throat, and suddenly he was clinging to her like a drowning man finding shore. She held him as the grief finally broke free. He, like her, was a leader. She knew he couldn't let the grief be visible when he was around others. He had to be strong- for them.
"You don't have to act strong around me," she whispered. "I know how strong you really are."
With that, the tears began to fall in earnest. Elsa felt her dress wet with salt and sweat. Everything that he'd been holding back, flowing out of him like a caged dragon finally finding flight.
"I never got to tell him," he whispered against her shoulder. "Never got to show him that he was right - that dragons could be more than weapons, that there was a better way…"
"Then show the world," she replied, running gentle fingers through his wind-tangled hair. "Make his belief in you mean something. Build the future he died protecting."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. In the aurora's light, she could see the moment when something shifted in his expression - grief transforming into purpose, like ice crystallizing into new forms.
"I can't do it alone," he admitted quietly. "I thought I could. But-"
"You won't have to." She touched his cheek, feeling the slight tremor that still ran through him. "Arendelle stands with you. I stand with you."
"Elsa…" He caught her hand, pressing it more firmly against his skin. "What I'm asking… it would mean bringing war to your kingdom's doorstep. Risking everything you've built here-"
"Like you risked everything to help the dragons? Like you risked everything when you showed me Toothless?" She smiled softly, and Hiccup sighed in response.
"Some things are worth fighting for, Hiccup. Worth protecting. Worth believing in."
He kissed her then - not like their first kiss, full of discovery and tentative hope, but with the desperate certainty of someone finding anchor in a storm. She tasted salt on his lips and couldn't tell if it was from tears or sea spray carried on dragon wings.
When they parted, she rested her forehead against his, sharing breath in the quiet dark. Two souls, simply bound together by time and tide.
"Tell me what you need," she whispered. "Tell me how to help."
He drew back just enough to meet her eyes, and she saw the strategist emerging from behind the grief - the leader he'd become without ever meaning to be one. The boy who'd turned into a man. Day by day. The more he seemed to run away from it- the faster it seemed to chase him.
And she could entirely relate. Responsibility had a way of seeking out those that feared it the most.
"We need to prepare the kingdom," he said, his voice finding its strength. "Fortify the fjords, establish supply lines with our allies. The Defenders of the Wing will send representatives - they know how to work with dragons, how to defend against Drago's methods."
"And the dragons themselves?" She traced patterns of frost across his palm, watching his eyes track the delicate designs. "You've kept them hidden from Arendelle for so long…"
"No more hiding," he said firmly. "No more secrets. If we're going to win this, we need everything in the open - ice, magic and dragon fire working together in the light. Although," he added, "it will be gradual. Most of the envoys sent will be on Tidal class dragons; they'll stay in the water. Only one or two are regular land dragons."
Elsa frowned.
"When did the envoys leave?"
"Several hours before I did."
"But then-" she raised a brow, "You're already here. How?"
Hiccup smiled as something like proud affection crossed his face.
"Drago may have an alpha dragon. But there is no single dragon in the Southern Isles nor anywhere in the world that can match a night fury in pure speed."
She felt the warmth seep into her chest as she remembered Toothless. How adorable his green eyes and gummy smiles were.
Then she realized that the rest of those around her. The people who'd never seen anything bigger than a mountain yak so far. They probably wouldn't have such pleasant ideas about dragons. She already saw the possibilities unfold like ice crystals forming in clear air.
"The people will be frightened at first," she warned. "Change isn't easy, especially when it comes with scales and fire."
"But once they do accept dragons," Hiccup argued, "I think they'll trust your powers and abilities a lot more."
Elsa sighed.
"I hope so."
"I know they will," Hiccup stated matter-of-factually. "Definitely more than they trust the dragons and my ideas about living with them."
"They'll trust yours too," she assured him, seeing doubt flicker across his features. "Once they see what you've built, what you're fighting for; they'll understand why their queen…" She paused, suddenly uncertain how to finish that thought.
"Why their queen what?" he prompted softly, something vulnerable and hopeful entering his expression.
"Why their queen believes in you," she finished, though she hoped he had heard the words she hadn't quite said. "Why she's willing to stand beside you in this fight."
He pulled her close again, and she felt some of the terrible tension finally leave his body. They sat together in comfortable silence, watching as the aurora's light began to fade into the first hints of dawn.
"Stay," she said quietly. It was more than just a request.
"I really don't want to inconvenience you," Hiccup argued, his face turning a familiar shade of red. "You're really busy with-"
"Rest," she insisted, rising and pulling him with her. "We'll face everything else when the sun rises."
He followed her lead, exhaustion finally overtaking grief and duty. As she settled him onto the cushioned window seat, drawing a blanket around his shoulders, he caught her hand.
"Thank you," he whispered, those forest eyes holding hers with naked honesty. "For everything. For being…"
"Yours," she finished simply, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Now sleep. Tomorrow we start building that future your father believed in."
She stayed awake, watching as his breathing evened out into the rhythm of true rest. Outside, the aurora's final ribbons faded into the dull blanche of the early morning sky, and somewhere above, a Night Fury probably kept vigilant watch over them both, if she had to guess.
She was awake again. And it wasn't even close to morning yet.
While she'd definitely fallen asleep for a few hours, Elsa was definitely awake now. She knew Hiccup had to leave early, before anyone saw him.
She loved him. But she was also a queen. Which meant she had to make mature decisions sometimes.
And he was awake. Probably because he knew that- bless him.
"How did you even reach my balcony without Toothless?" she asked softly, breaking the contemplative silence that had settled between them. She sat cross-legged on the window seat beside him, her nightgown pooling around her like freshly fallen snow, one hand absently creating delicate frost patterns on the glass beside them.
A ghost of his familiar crooked smile touched Hiccup's lips. "Ah, well…" He reached for the strange leather straps that crisscrossed his armor – details Elsa had noticed but never quite understood. "That's actually something I've been meaning to show you."
With practiced movements, he began unfastening pieces of his suit, as if that explained everything. Leather wings tucked against his sides. An intricate system of catches and releases. A dorsal fin…?
Wait a minute-
"You fly?" Elsa's voice held equal measures of awe and horror as understanding dawned. "Without Toothless?"
"Glide, technically," he corrected, that familiar spark of innovation briefly lighting his eyes despite his grief. "Though I'm working on sustained flight. The updrafts around Arendelle's cliffs are perfect for testing new modifications."
"Perfect for breaking your neck, you mean." Frost crystals sparked from her fingertips, betraying her anxiety.
"Hiccup, that's…"
"Crazy? Reckless? A death wish in leather form?" His smile turned self-deprecating. "I've heard all of those, usually from Toothless right before he has to catch me."
"I was going to say 'remarkable,'" she said softly, touching one of the wings with wonder. "And terrifying. And so very you."
"You're not going to tell me to stop?"
"Would you? If I asked?"
When he hesitated, she shook her head, a sad smile gracing her features.
"That's what I thought. Besides, who am I to cage someone else's way of finding freedom?"
"It works," he assured her, covering her hand with his where it still rested on the wing's leather surface. "Most of the time. The success rate is up to at least sixty percent now."
"That's not as reassuring as you think it is," she said dryly, but she couldn't hide the fondness in her exasperation.
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sound of waves against the fjord's shores. Elsa found herself studying their joined hands – her pale fingers threaded through his callused ones, frost meeting forge-marks in perfect complement.
"Tell me about them," she said quietly. "The ones you left behind. The ones we might still save."
He drew a shaking breath. "Fishlegs would love your library," he began, letting the memories surface like stars emerging after storm clouds. "He's brilliant – knows the Dragon Manual by heart, understands things about dragon behavior that I'm still trying to figure out. And Snotlout; he acts tough, but he'd die protecting the people he cares about."
"The twins?" he continued, a reluctant chuckle escaping him. "Ruff and Tuff are chaos incarnate, but there's no one better to have at your back in a fight. They see possibilities no one else would think of – usually involving explosions, but still…"
"And Astrid?" Elsa's voice was gentle, free of judgment or jealousy. She'd known there must have been someone, in the life he'd left behind.
"She was…" He paused, searching for words. "She was everything I thought I wanted to be. Strong. Skilled. Respected. I used to think if I could just get her to notice me, it would mean I was finally worth something in Berk's eyes." He smiled sadly. "Took me years to realize I was looking for validation in all the wrong places."
"Did she ever know? About Toothless, about what you were trying to do?"
"Not then." The word held old regret, but not the sharp pain it once had. "I wanted to tell her, so many times. But she was so devoted to tradition, to the old ways. The thought of her looking at me with the same disappointment I saw in my father's eyes…" He shook his head.
"I couldn't bear it. So I left. Let them think I'd run away from my responsibilities instead of toward something bigger."
"And now?" Elsa prompted softly.
"Now I have to try to save them, even if they hate me for leaving. Even if they never understood why." His voice strengthened with conviction. "Drago will destroy everything they are, everything they could be. He won't just kill them – he'll use them, twist their strength into something ugly and controlled. I can't let that happen."
"We won't let that happen," she corrected firmly. "But Hiccup… have you considered that they might surprise you? That given the chance to see what you've built, what you've learned-"
"They might understand?" He laughed, but there was less bitterness in it now. "Maybe. Fishlegs does. He's already bonded with a dragon. The twins just want to know if they can get their own Night Furies. Snotlout pretends to hate it while secretly loving every minute- but I've got to admit he's being quite more mature about it than I thought he'd be. And Astrid…"
"Has had to confront the fact that everything she believed about dragons might be wrong," Elsa finished. "Just like I had to face the truth about my powers. It's not easy, having your world turned upside down. But it's possible to build something new from the pieces."
She blushed as he turned to study her face in the growing light, the sudden intensity of his gaze catching her off guard.
"How do you do that?" he asked, and Elsa could hear the wonder in his voice.
"Do what?" she asked, confused.
"Make me believe impossible things are possible. Make me feel like maybe I'm not crazy for trying."
She smiled, ice crystals dancing in the air around them like diamond dust. "Because I know what it's like to discover that everything you were taught about yourself, about what's possible, might be wrong. And I know what it's like to find someone who sees the beauty in what everyone else feared."
Hiccup smiled, and Elsa simply leaned back against his shoulder.
"We should probably try to sleep," she said eventually, noting how the sky had begun to lighten, moving every so slowly towards true dawn. "There will be so much to do when the sun rises."
But neither of them moved from the window seat, their hands still linked, their shoulders touching in comfortable proximity.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. "For listening. For understanding. For being…"
"Yours," she repeated her words from earlier, but this time they held a different weight, a different promise. "Always."
He turned to her then, and in his eyes she saw the same mix of wonder and certainty she felt in her own heart. When he kissed her, it was like the meeting of winter wind and summer storm – gentle but charged with possibility, with the power to reshape landscapes and change the course of rivers.
Some loves, after all, are worth crossing oceans for.
The pre-dawn hours held a different quality of darkness – less mysterious than midnight, more contemplative than true night. Outside, the aurora had long since faded, leaving only stars and the promise of approaching morning. Inside the queen's chambers, two figures sat close together, their shadows painting long shapes across moonlit floors.
"What if I'm not ready?" Elsa's voice was barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of early morning, it carried the weight of mountains. "I've barely learned to control my powers, barely learned to be a queen in peacetime. And now…"
She trailed off, ice crystallizing in delicate patterns around her feet – a physical manifestation of the anxiety she was finally allowing herself to voice. Hiccup watched the frost spread, noting how even in her fear, her powers created beauty rather than chaos.
"Now you're facing an invasion that threatens everything you've built," he finished grimly. "Everything you've worked so hard to protect."
"My people trust me," she continued, rising to pace near the window. In the starlight, her hair gleamed like newly fallen snow. "But this- What if I'm leading them into destruction?"
Hiccup stood, crossing to where she had stopped at the window. Behind her shoulders, he could see the sleeping form of Arendelle spread out below – peaceful, unaware of the storm gathering on its horizon.
"Do you know what I see when I look at your kingdom?" he asked, turning her gently to face him. "I see a people who chose hope over fear. Who followed their queen not because tradition demanded it, but because they believed in what you could become." His hands found hers, stilling their nervous movement. "They chose love over fear once before. They'll do it again."
"But Drago-" She shuddered, frost crackling along her arms. "You've seen what he can do. What he's already done to Berk. His armies, his controlled dragons-"
"Are powerful," Hiccup acknowledged. "But not unbeatable." A hint of his old confidence crept into his voice. "My… friends… they've been preparing for this. Building a network of riders and dragons who choose to fight together, not through control but through trust."
Elsa's eyes widened slightly. "How many?"
"More than Drago knows about." That ghost of a smile touched his lips again. "The Defenders of the Wing, the Wing Maidens, scattered tribes who've learned there's another way… And they have dragons you wouldn't believe, Elsa. Titans who could shake mountains, guardians who've protected their homes for centuries."
"Like Toothless?" she asked, and he noticed how she said the Night Fury's name with genuine affection.
"Toothless…" Hiccup's expression softened with pride and love. "He acts like an oversized house cat most of the time, especially around you. But he's probably the deadliest dragon in existence. Night Furies aren't called the unholy offspring of lightning and death for nothing."
"He doesn't seem very unholy when he's begging for fish or trying to steal your blankets," she observed, a small smile finally breaking through her worry.
"That's because you're family now," he said softly. "To both of us. But to his enemies…" Hiccup shook his head. "I've seen him take down dragons three times his size, outmaneuver entire fleets. When we fly together, it's like we're one mind, one purpose. And he's not the only one. Every dragon rider I know has that kind of bond with their partner. It's not about control – it's about trust, about choice. That's what Drago will never understand. And never have."
"And that's what makes you different," Elsa realized, her fingers tightening around his. "That's why you'll win."
"That's why we'll win," he corrected with a wink. "Ice and fire, working together? Drago won't know what hit him."
She leaned into him then, and it was all he could do to not melt on the spot.
"Tell me more about these friends of yours. These other riders. Help me understand what we're building toward."
So he did, his voice painting pictures in the darkness – of the fierce Wing Maidens who flew with deadly precision on their Razorwhips, of the Defenders of the Wing and their unwavering dedication to dragon protection, of isolated tribes who had begun to see dragons as allies rather than enemies. Some, like the Bog Burglars were quick to turn, while the others, like the Meatheads and the Murderous, were more reluctant. Decades and decades of engraved indoctrination hard to overcome.
"And you've been coordinating with all of them?" she asked, impressed. "All while helping me learn to control my powers and playing the simple blacksmith?"
He chuckled softly. "Well, Toothless did most of the hard work. Night Furies can cover incredible distances, and no one watches the sky at night. Plus," his voice turned thoughtful, "I had something worth protecting here. Something worth building toward."
The way she looked at him then made his heart flutter like snowflakes in a gentle breeze. But before Hiccup could respond, a subtle change in the quality of darkness outside caught their attention.
"The sun will rise soon," she said reluctantly. "The guard rotation…"
"Is in exactly seven minutes," he finished with a knowing smile.
She raised an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned about the security of my castle?"
"Only if all potential intruders have Night Furies and custom-built flight suits." His smile turned serious. "I should go. There's so much to prepare, so many people to contact-"
He studied her face in the growing light, seeing not just the queen she had become but the ruler she was growing into – someone who faced her fears with grace, who turned challenge into opportunity, who understood that true strength often meant trusting others with your vulnerabilities.
"Together," he agreed softly.
The sky was lightening to that peculiar shade between night and dawn, when stars still hung like diamonds in a slowly brightening vault.
"Be careful," she whispered, watching as he checked the mechanisms of his flight suit. "You know I hate watching you do this."
"Then don't watch," he teased gently. "Try to get some rest?"
She nodded, though they both knew sleep would likely elude her. There was too much to think about, too much to plan.
The guard rotation changed right on schedule, their armored footsteps echoing in the courtyard below. But their eyes were on the ground, on doorways and shadows, not on the figure gliding silently through the last moments of night, making his way toward the forest where a Night Fury waited.
Elsa remained on her balcony until she could no longer see him, until the stars had faded and the first true light of dawn began to paint the fjord in colors of gold and promise. Below, Arendelle was beginning to wake – to another day, another set of challenges, another step toward whatever future they were building.
Let them come, she thought, watching ice crystals dance around her fingers. Let Drago bring his armies and his controlled dragons. He would find that some powers couldn't be controlled by force – some bonds couldn't be broken by fear.
Tomorrow would bring councils and preparations, explanations and perhaps arguments. But for now, in this moment between night and day, she let herself believe in the impossible.
After all, she thought as she finally turned away from the brightening sky, some beliefs were worth fighting for. And some loves, like some powers, were strongest when shared freely, chosen daily, given without reservation or restraint.
Dawn broke over Arendelle, painting the world in colors of possibility and change. And in the heart of her castle, a queen who commanded winter prepared to help her people understand that sometimes the greatest strengths come not from what we control, but from what we choose to trust, to protect, to love.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. But for now, this moment, this certainty, this love – it was enough. More than enough.
It was everything.
The great council chamber of Arendelle's castle had never felt quite so small.
Morning light streamed through the tall windows, catching on the crystalline ice decorations that had become a signature of Queen Elsa's reign, but today they seemed to cast more shadows than sparkle. The chamber was filled to capacity – Arendelle's council members in their formal wear on one side, military leaders in their decorated uniforms on the other, and at the far end of the massive oak table, three figures who seemed to make the ornate chamber feel somehow primitive by their mere presence.
Elsa had come to realize with her start that her impression of the dragon riders had been heavily influenced by Hiccup. Only now did she realize that he was an anomaly, rather than the norm. Most dragon riders were not wiry vikings with dark hair and green eyes. She was inclined to think they looked more like the warriors before her- sun-tanned, muscular, with piercing eyes and alert postures that spoke of battles as a way of life. Far unlike anything she had ever seen.
The Defenders of the Wing did not dress to impress. Their metal armor bore the scars of actual combat, their weapons were worn from use rather than polished for show, and their eyes held the sharp awareness of those who had seen real war. Their leader, a woman named Thora, sat with the straight-backed posture of someone who spent more time in a dragon's saddle than on cushioned chairs.
"Your Majesty," Count Viktor's voice carried its usual aristocratic drawl, though Elsa noticed the slight tremor he couldn't quite hide. "Surely you cannot be considering this…this alliance. These people arrived on the backs of monsters! There are creatures swimming in our fjord as we speak!"
"Thunderdrums and Scauldrons," Thora corrected flatly, her accent marking her as from far northern lands. "And they're not monsters. They're our partners, our allies. Something you'll need to understand quickly if you want to survive what's coming."
The Count's face flushed red. "Now see here—"
"Enough." Elsa's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of command that had nothing to do with volume. Something she'd practiced a lot, and was proud to finally see be effective.
But it also had its downsides.
Frost crystallized briefly around her fingertips before she controlled it.
"Count Viktor, I understand your concerns. But please allow our guests to explain the full situation before making judgments."
General Bergen, a veteran of Arendelle's military for three decades, leaned forward. "Your Majesty, while I share some of the Count's, well, reservations. I for one would hear more about this threat. These claims about Drago's forces seem almost impossible."
"Impossible?" The youngest of the Defenders, a man called Loki, gave a harsh laugh. "Like dragons swimming in your fjord?" His hand went to a nasty scar on his neck. "I've seen what Drago's army can do. Believe me, nothing is impossible anymore."
"Perhaps," Thora interrupted smoothly, shooting her companion a quelling look, "we should speak plainly about numbers and tactics. Your Majesty, your military advisors should know that Drago commands an army of over ten thousand men, and nearly half as many dragons. Dragons forced to fight through methods that," she paused, disgust evident in her expression. "Methods that break their will, turn them into weapons."
The chamber erupted in worried murmurs. General Bergen's face had gone pale. "Ten thousand? And dragons as well? Our standing army is barely three thousand strong."
"Which is precisely why we're here," said the third Defender, an older man named Magnus who had remained silent until now.
He spread a map across the table – detailed, marked with annotations that made Elsa think of Hiccup's handiwork. "Arendelle's position is both its greatest vulnerability and its greatest strength. Drago wants this location – protected by mountains, controlling the sea approaches, perfect for a capital of the empire he dreams of building. But properly defended, with dragons and soldiers working together-"
"Dragons?" Count Viktor's voice rose again. "You expect our men to fight alongside these beasts? To trust their lives to creatures that have been feared and thought extinct for generations?"
"We expect you to survive," Thora said bluntly. "Unless you think your pretty uniforms and parade ground tactics will stop an armada of warships and an army of enslaved dragons?"
Elsa watched frost begin to creep across the table's surface and took a careful breath. "My lords, my generals, please. Let us listen with open minds."
She turned to Thora. "You mentioned working together. What exactly are you proposing?"
The Defender leader's expression softened slightly. "Your Majesty shows wisdom. We propose a full alliance. We can bring five hundred-perhaps even a thousand riders, each with their own dragon partner. More importantly, we can teach your people how to work with dragons – not all as riders, but as allies. Your soldiers learning to fight alongside them, your sailors learning to coordinate with Scauldrons and Thunderdrums in naval defense-"
"Preposterous!" Count Viktor stood so quickly his chair toppled backward. "Your Majesty, you cannot—"
"Cannot what, Count?" Elsa's voice had gone winter-cold. "Cannot consider all options to protect my people? Cannot look beyond old prejudices when faced with an existential threat?" Ice crystals danced in the air around her. "Need I remind you that not so long ago, many thought a queen with ice powers was impossible? Dangerous? Something to be feared rather than understood?"
While most in the Council knew about her powers and kept it a well-hidden secret (or so they thought) from the general populace, Elsa knew that even the few here who were supposed to be her closest allies were far from understanding when it came to things that they did not understand. Like most people, their age was a natural barrier between them and the unexplored.
Fortunately, she wasn't that old. Yet.
A heavy silence fell over the chamber. The Count slowly righted his chair, face flushed.
"Your Majesty speaks wisdom," General Bergen said quietly. "But the practical considerations… our men have no experience with dragons. The time needed to train-"
"We have two months," Magnus said grimly. "Our scouts report Drago's forces are gathering, but winter storms will delay him until then. He is also slowed down by his alpha. It's not much time, but it's enough. If we begin immediately."
"And these… methods of yours," asked Lady Hoffman, one of the more practical council members. "They work? Truly?"
Thora's expression softened further. "Would you like to meet my partner? See for yourself?"
Before anyone could respond, a shadow passed across the windows. Soldiers shouted in surprise while several council members gasped as an enormous Rumblehorn – emerald green with battle-scarred armor plates – landed on the wide balcony outside the chamber. Its intelligent eyes surveyed the room calmly.
"This is Bonecleaver," Thora said with evident pride. "We've flown together for two years. Fought together, saved each other more times than I can count. He's not a beast or a monster – he's my friend, my partner, as loyal as any soldier in your army."
The dragon rumbled softly, a sound somehow both powerful and gentle. Elsa watched her council members' faces, seeing fear war with fascination.
"The people are frightened," Lady Ingrid said slowly. "The dragons in the fjord…"
"Then let us show them there's nothing to fear," Elsa said. "Let us show them that dragons can be allies rather than enemies." She stood, ice swirling around her in a display that she supposed had become increasingly familiar to her council. "I propose we accept the Defenders' offer of alliance. All in favor?"
One by one, hands raised. Even Count Viktor, after a long moment and with obvious reluctance, added his vote.
"Excellent," Thora said, standing as well. "Then we should begin immediately. General Bergen, if you would gather your officers? The sooner they learn about dragon classifications and basic training principles…"
The chamber burst into activity – officers gathering maps, council members breaking into discussion groups, the Defenders beginning to outline their initial plans. But Elsa's attention was drawn to the window, where she could see the Thunderdrums breaching in the fjord's waters, their movements somehow graceful despite their massive size.
"Your Majesty?" Thora approached quietly while the others were distracted. "He said you would understand. That you would help bridge these worlds."
Elsa frowned.
"Who did?"
Now it was Thora's turn to look confused.
"Our leader. I thought you were in contact with him?"
The only dragon rider she knew was Hiccup. While she had figured out he was definitely a leader of some sort, she had figured that he probably commanded troops of his own. Or led a squadron of dragon riders. Something like that. Not-
"Hiccup," she asked, her throat tight with surprise, "Is the leader of the entire resistance?"
Thora nodded, a fond smile crossing her face.
"Aye, that he is. Finest dragon trainer alive; the first of us all equals. He might be young- but he's been learning about dragons, studying them, for far longer than anyone else."
Elsa's heart skipped at the implicit reference.
"He was right," she said softly. "Some changes are worth the risk. Some truths worth fighting for."
The Defender leader nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. "Indeed."
Elsa's breath caught, thinking of Hiccup's pain, his guilt, his hope. And now, she began to understand the depth of his responsibility. Something that rivaled even hers.
"Thank you," she managed. "For telling me."
Thora simply nodded again before turning back to the ongoing discussions. Outside, Bonecleaver rumbled contentedly, seemingly unbothered by the occasional alarmed looks still being cast his way. A few of the children of the nobles had gathered around the dragon, trying to play with him, both the soldiers and their parents too frozen in fear to do anything about the mighty dragon was as docile as a house cat. More than that, he seemed to enjoy interacting with the children, his giant proportions reacting with careful responses every time the children ran around or scratched his scaly skin.
The Queen of Arendelle smiled.
It was true that children understood some things better than adults.
Elsa remained by the window, watching as the morning sun painted the fjord in colors of possibility and change. Two months to prepare, to transform generations of fear into understanding, to build something entirely new from the ashes of old prejudices.
It should have felt impossible. Instead, she felt only certainty, and a fierce, burning hope.
Let Drago come with his stolen dragons and broken wills. He would find something stronger waiting here – the power of choice, of trust freely given, of bonds forged through understanding rather than force.
He would find winter's queen and her people standing beside dragons who chose to fight, united in defense of a future worth building.
A future worth believing in.
Worth fighting for.
The morning sun had barely crested the mountains when Princess Anna of Arendelle found herself face-to-face with her first dragon. She'd heard the commotion, of course – servants whispering about monsters in the fjord, guards nervously discussing the strange visitors who'd arrived on scaled backs. But nothing had prepared her for the reality of standing before a dragon whose scales gleamed like polished topaz in the early light.
"Oh," she breathed, taking an instinctive step backward. The dragon's head tilted, bird-like and curious, intelligent eyes studying her with an awareness that made her heart skip. "Oh wow. You're… you're beautiful."
He was like Sven. But just a lot more…scaly?
His scales were shades of yellow and red, with a white underbelly.
"His name is Stormchaser," the Dragon Trainer (what was her name? Thora?) said, watching with barely concealed amusement as Anna's initial fear transformed into wonder. "And he's probably preening internally at the compliment."
The Nadder chirped, as if confirming this assessment, and Anna's face broke into a sunshine smile. "Can I… can I touch him?"
She'd never touched a dragon before!
"Hold out your hand, palm flat," Thora instructed, demonstrating the proper technique. "Let him come to you. Dragons are proud creatures – they choose who they trust."
Anna followed the instructions with uncharacteristic patience, barely breathing as the Nadder considered her offered hand. Then, with a gentleness that seemed impossible for such a large creature, Stormchaser pressed his snout against her palm.
The squeal of delight that escaped the princess probably scared half the birds from the castle gardens.
"Elsa!" She turned to her sister, who stood watching with a mix of caution and fondness. "Elsa, did you see? He's so warm! And his scales are like jewels, and oh my goodness, can we keep him? Can I have one? Do they all come in different colors? How fast can they fly? Do they—"
"Anna," Elsa interrupted gently, though she noticed her lip twitch with suppressed laughter. "Perhaps let Thora answer one question before asking ten more?"
The Defender leader was already chuckling, a sound that softened her usually stern features.
"Your sister's enthusiasm reminds me of another dragon enthusiast I know," she said to Elsa with a knowing look. "Though perhaps with slightly more… energy."
"That's my specialty!" Anna declared proudly, still stroking Stormchaser's scales with wonder. "Speaking of which – what other dragons are there? Can I meet them all? Oh! The ones in the fjord! Can we go see them? Please?"
Elsa exchanged a glance with Thora, who nodded encouragingly. "I suppose… a proper introduction to our new allies would be appropriate…"
"Yes!" Anna was already practically bouncing. "Wait, I should change first. Do dragons prefer certain colors? Should I wear something fire-resistant? Is that a thing? Also, what do they eat? Should I bring snacks?"
The morning dissolved into what could only be described as organized chaos. Anna threw herself into dragon education with the same boundless enthusiasm she brought to everything else. By midday, she had not only learned the proper way to approach different dragon species but had somehow convinced a pair of Terrible Terrors to perch on her shoulders like scaled parrots.
"They're like big, scaly cats!" she declared delightedly as one of the small dragons nuzzled her cheek. "But better, because they can fly! And breathe fire! Though maybe don't do that inside the castle," she added hastily to her new friends. "Kai would have a fit."
"Anna," Elsa said with fond exasperation, watching as her sister attempted to teach the Terrors to perform synchronized aerial tricks with bits of fish as rewards. "Perhaps we should discuss some practical considerations? Like how to integrate dragons into Arendelle without causing panic?"
"Oh! Right." Anna's expression turned thoughtful, though she continued absently scratching under one Terror's chin. "Actually, I was thinking about that. The horses are going to freak out, aren't they? And Sven! Poor Sven's probably never seen anything like this. We should probably set up separate stables, maybe? And designated landing areas? Oh, and we'll need lots of fish – do you think the fishermen will be okay with supplying dragons? Maybe we could—"
"Your Highness raises excellent points," Thora interrupted. The way she said it- was she…impressed?
"We've dealt with similar issues in our own territories. I can show you how we designed our dragon stables, if you'd like?"
Anna's eyes lit up like a child at Yuletide.
"Can we go now? Wait, can we fly there? Is that allowed? Is it safe? Never mind, don't answer that last one, I don't actually care if it's safe—"
"Anna!" Elsa's voice carried a note of sisterly panic.
"I'm kidding! Mostly." She wasn't, and everyone knew it. "But seriously, think about it Elsa – we need to learn everything we can, right? For Arendelle? And what better way than hands-on experience?"
Elsa sighed. Anna knew why. It was they way she had spoken. Her tone of voice. It was the same one that had preceded numerous childhood adventures, most of which had ended in scraped knees and creative explanations to their parents.
"Perhaps," she said carefully, "we could start with ground-based observations first?"
But Anna was already conferring excitedly with Thora about different dragon species and their temperaments. "So Nadders are good for speed and agility, but Gronckles are actually really gentle despite looking tough? And Nightmares are dramatic but loyal? It's like matching personalities! Oh! What kind of dragon do you think would suit me? Something fast, obviously. And friendly! But also maybe a little bit fierce, you know? For special occasions."
Thora's usual stern expression had completely melted in the face of Anna's infectious enthusiasm. "Well, there's a young dramilion we've been working with – she's got spirit, but a good heart. Reminds me a bit of you, actually…"
"Really?" Anna bounced on her toes. "Can I meet her? What color is she? Does she have a name? Can I name her if she doesn't? Oh! We should color-coordinate! Although I suppose that's probably not the most important consideration for choosing a dragon partner, but still…"
Thora laughed.
"Dramilions are able to mimic the fire of any other dragon they see."
Anna's eyes nearly burst out of her head. That was amazing!
"But that's not even the best part."
What could possibly be better?
"As they age," Thora continued, "and reach the Titan Wing Stage, they gain the ability to change their colors."
Anna was squealing. No she wasn't.
"Anna," Elsa tried again, but she barely heard her. The princess had found a new passion and would pursue it with all the unstoppable force of an avalanche.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Thora said quietly as Anna continued chattering to her Terrible Terror companions. "We'll make sure she's properly trained before any actual flying happens. Though…" A rare smile touched her lips. "I have a feeling your sister might be a natural. She's got the right spirit – no fear, just wonder."
Watching Anna demonstrate her fish-tossing trick to an increasingly interested audience of small dragons, Elsa had to admit there was truth in that observation. Her sister had always been the one to leap first and look later, to see the best in every situation, to transform fear into adventure through sheer force of will.
"The dragons respond to emotion," Thora continued. "To intention and heart. Your sister… she's got a pure heart. Dragons recognize that."
As if to prove this point, Stormchaser had wandered back over to Anna, gently headbutting her shoulder for attention. She responded with delighted laughter, fearlessly scratching under his chin while continuing to balance her Terror friends.
"We'll need to arrange proper training sessions," Elsa said finally, unable to resist her sister's joy. "And safety protocols. And designated areas for dragon activities. And—"
"And we'll handle all of that," Thora assured her. "But perhaps… perhaps this enthusiasm is exactly what Arendelle needs right now. Someone to show them that dragons aren't just allies of necessity, but friends worth knowing."
Watching Anna demonstrate to a gathering crowd of hesitant servants how to properly greet a dragon, her excitement somehow making the whole process seem more like a game than a lesson in survival, Elsa had to agree.
"Oh!" Anna's voice carried across the courtyard. "We should have a dragon festival! To introduce everyone properly! With fish-tossing contests and flying demonstrations and maybe some sort of dragon fashion show? Is that a thing? Can that be a thing? Elsa, can we make that a thing?"
"Your sister," Thora said with what sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter, "is going to either revolutionize dragon-human relations or give me gray hair trying."
"Welcome to my world," Elsa replied dryly, but there was fondness in her voice. "Though I suppose there are worse things than having a sister who can find joy even in the face of war preparations."
"Much worse," Thora agreed softly. "Joy is a kind of courage too, Your Majesty. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is choose to embrace wonder instead of fear."
The day continued in a whirlwind of dragon introductions, impromptu training sessions, and Anna's increasingly creative ideas for integration protocols. By sunset, she had not only named every Terror in the castle but had somehow convinced the kitchen staff to start experimenting with dragon-friendly menu options.
"Think about it," she said earnestly over dinner, her hair slightly singed but her eyes bright with excitement. "If we're going to be allies, we should understand each other's cultures, right? And food is culture! Maybe we could even have a dragon-human feast to celebrate the alliance! Though probably with separate serving stations, since I'm pretty sure most people don't want their fish quite that raw…"
Elsa watched her sister's enthusiasm with a mixture of trepidation and pride. Anna didn't mind- she was used to that.
"Just… promise me you'll be careful?" she asked as they said goodnight. "These are still powerful creatures, even if they're friendly."
Anna hugged her fiercely. "Of course! But Elsa… they're not just powerful. They're amazing. They're like… like your ice magic, in a way. Something that seems scary at first but turns out to be beautiful and wonderful when you understand it." She pulled back, eyes serious despite her smile. "Trust me?"
"Always," Elsa replied, laughing. "Just maybe no unauthorized flying lessons yet?"
"Define 'unauthorized'," Anna said with a suspiciously innocent smile, then danced away laughing before Elsa could respond. The Queen didn't need to know everything, did she?
Watching her sister disappear down the hallway, still chattering to her Terror companions about plans for tomorrow's adventures, Elsa felt something settle in her heart. If Anna could transform fear into friendship so easily, perhaps there was hope for all of Arendelle to do the same.
Perhaps that was what they needed most right now – not just strength or strategy, but the courage to choose wonder over fear, joy over suspicion, love over prejudice.
After all, some changes were worth embracing, some risks worth taking, some loves worth fighting for.
Even if they came with scales, fire, and slightly singed royal hairdos.
The Defenders' island emerged from the morning mist like a fortress rising from the sea itself, its steep cliffs and dragon perches a testament to years of careful adaptation between humans and their scaled allies. Hiccup guided Toothless into a smooth landing on the main platform, noting the unusual amount of activity below – dragons of all species circling the island's peaks, riders rushing between buildings with urgent purpose.
Something had changed. He could feel it in the air, thick with tension like the moments before a storm breaks.
"What do you think, bud?" he murmured as they descended. Toothless warbled softly, his ear plates twitching with alertness. The Night Fury had been on edge since they'd received Mala's terror mail, sensing his rider's unease.
Mala herself waited for them at the platform's edge, her usual composed expression carrying an edge of genuine concern that made Hiccup's stomach tighten. The Queen of the Defenders rarely showed worry openly – whatever had happened must be serious.
"Dragon Rider," she greeted formally, though there was warmth beneath the title. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Your message seemed urgent," Hiccup replied, his voice slightly distorted through his riding mask. "What's happened?"
Mala's expression grew graver. "The Crystal Caves have fallen."
The words hit like a physical blow. Hiccup had to steady himself against Toothless's saddle, mind racing. The Crystal Caves – their strongest southern defense, home to one of the few known Bewilderbeasts outside Drago's control. He'd been counting on that position to slow Drago's advance, to buy them time…
"How?" he managed. "The dragons there-the alpha-"
"Dead." A new voice joined them, carrying the weight of personal loss. "Drago's alpha killed him. The battle was costly, for both sides. But in the end…"
Hiccup turned to find a tall, slender figure approaching. There was something strange about her movement – graceful but almost alien, as if she'd learned to walk by watching dragons rather than humans. She wore armor unlike any he'd seen, decorated with scales and spikes that mimicked draconic patterns.
The dragon whisperer. The mysterious ally Mala had mentioned in her messages, who had lived among dragons for decades. Who had helped establish the Crystal Caves sanctuary in the first place.
He'd never seen her in person. Yet.
"You were there?" he asked, noting how Toothless's attention had fixed on the newcomer with unusual intensity.
"Yes." Her voice carried deep sorrow, but also steel. "We fought as long as we could. Drago lost nearly a third of his forces – his control over dragons isn't perfect, and when they're faced with a true alpha's call…" She trailed off, then seemed to notice Toothless properly for the first time. "By the gods. Is that…?"
"A Night Fury," Hiccup confirmed, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "This is Toothless."
The dragon whisperer approached slowly, her movements careful and respectful. Toothless watched her with obvious curiosity, his usual playful wariness replaced by something almost like recognition.
"Magnificent," she breathed. "I never thought… in all my years among dragons, I've only seen ancient drawings. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself." Her hand reached out, then paused. "May I?"
Hiccup nodded, fascinated by how naturally she approached. Most people, even experienced riders, showed at least some hesitation with Toothless at first. But she moved like someone who understood dragons at a bone-deep level, who saw them as equals rather than mounts or weapons.
Eerily similar to him.
Toothless pressed his snout into her palm without hesitation, crooning softly. The dragon whisperer laughed – a sound of pure joy that seemed to shed years from her bearing.
"He's beautiful," she said softly. "The bond between you two… I've never seen anything quite like it. Even among the closest rider pairs I know."
"He's my best friend," Hiccup said simply. "Has been since I was fifteen. Everything I know about dragons, I learned from him first."
She studied him with increased interest, though his features remained hidden behind his mask. "You taught yourself? Without any guidance?"
"Trial and error mostly," he admitted. "Lots of error, initially. But once I realized everything we knew about dragons was wrong," he shrugged. "It just felt right. Natural. Like I'd finally found where I belonged."
Something flickered across her face – recognition, perhaps, or memory. "Yes," she said softly. "I understand that feeling very well."
"Yeah well, back at home, that wasn't really the sentiment."
The Dragon whisperer shook her head, laughing.
"I can relate. Where are you from, my dear friend?"
Finally, remembering his manners, he reached for his helmet. "I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself properly—"
The mask came off, and the world shifted on its axis.
The dragon whisperer's breath caught audibly, her hand flying to her mouth. She took a stumbling step backward, all her draconic grace forgotten in a moment of pure shock.
"Hiccup?" The word was barely a whisper. "It can't be…"
Something about her reaction, about the way she said his name, made his blood turn to ice. It was too close. Too familiar.
"How do you-well, my name- it's just-" he couldn't really speak as feelings he couldn't really describe began to rise up. Something was really, really weird.
He looked more closely at her features, really seeing them for the first time – the shape of her eyes, the angle of her chin, the way she held herself. She was…oddly familiar. Like he's seen her. In a dream. Or something.
"Look at you," she breathed, reaching toward his face with trembling fingers. "So grown up… so… like your father, but also…"
"Erm…" Hiccup took a step back, slightly creeped out.
"Do I know you?"
The dragon whisperer shook her head, sorrow crossing her features.
"No. You were only a babe. But a mother never forgets."
The greatest adventures are the ones we dare to take