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Soul of a Druid

Summary:

Jack Frost thought he knew who he was, a protector of the children and the Guardian of Fun. However, a little mishap and a chance meeting with a Dis had everything he thought he knew thrown out of perspective. Now, not only does he have to deal with finding out what has happened to him while finding a way home, but he is also having to deal with learning about who he had been; who Jackson Overland had been. On top of all that, he had to do everything while trying to go unnoticed by the Vikings and have you ever meet him? Subtlety was not a quality he possessed.

Oh, and did he mention the dragons? Because there were dragons.

Notes:

I have been working on this story since HTTYD 2 came out with the full intention of adding Jack to the movie. It was only supposed to be ten, maybe fifteen chapters at the most. Now I've got about thirty chapters unedited with the plans for a few more and I've yet to even reach the movie. So, since I seem to be stuck with a bout of writer's block, I thought I would start editing what I did have and slowly start to post the finished chapters.

Also, I have no beta and though I may be editing it as I go along, I tend to read the story how I thought I wrote it. Hence, there will be grammatically and spelling errors which I would appreciate them being pointed out to me (nicely please and thank you).

On another note, if there are any additional tags that would be appropriate for this story, please tell me. I try not to put too many to the point I spoil the story but sometimes I don't put enough, so it would be very much appreciated. With that, I leave you to go read and review once you're finished (please and thank you).

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: Setting of a New Era

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Earth has always been a peculiar planet; extraordinarily different than any of the planets and constellations in the long-forgotten Golden Age. There were—and, to this day, still are—many diverse cultures. Each with their own distinct traditions that clashed with one another in such a way that it should have been impossible for them to coexist on a single planet. Societies with tremendous dissimilarities gave rise to conflicts rooted in fear. In a way, it was because humans had the tendency to fear what they did not understand that the fear extended to anything different than their own ideals.

However, the very same humans, who fought and waged war against what was different from them, could change over time. More importantly, they did change. Earth and its people were unique in that aspect as they were constantly changing, growing, evolving. Unlike those of the Golden Age, the people of Earth's shorter lifespans led to an innovative society radically different to the near-stagnant civilization of the Golden Age with their longer lifespans.

Human ideals often transformed, their cultures shifted, and their opinions reversed as their future became the present and then moved on to the past with each generation. New ideas replaced old, outdated traditions and some cultures changed so radically that they had all but been destroyed; only to be replaced with newer, improved versions that begot modern-day life. Yet, despite the new developments, their differences still set humans apart from one another and kept wars waging.

There was one similarity between those of Earth—no matter where in the world one was to look—and the people of the Golden Age. One commonality. They all believed. By no means did they all hold the same beliefs; no, the Golden Age was too dissimilar from Earth and humans themselves had different beliefs depending on their culture and society. The people of Earth believed in their own god or gods, their own myths, their own legends, some of which were remnants from the once powerful Golden Age.

Granted, nothing on Earth was set in stone. The progress of the sciences gave reasonable justification to explain away gods and goddesses’ “divine” acts and instead attributed them to natural occurrences and other explainable phenomena. The magic of the world was pushed aside as petty sleight of hand or illusions. Some scientists went as far as replicating magic to a degree through technology and in a few cases, trickery.

In spite of everything, humans held onto their beliefs. Maybe not as strongly as they once did, but they still believed. Even in modern times, belief was exceedingly popular. Some areas in the world had their own unique folklore and myths which stood up to the test of time while other places adopted their legends from older civilizations but put their own spin on classic tales, creating their own variation to the legend. One such place was a small town in Pennsylvania named Burgess after Thaddeus Burgess, who built his log cabin there before the bitter winter of 1795.

The youth of Burgess took the underappreciated myth of Jack Frost and gave it new life. Even though most of the adults of the town knew the legend originated from Anglo-Saxon and Norse winter customs, the children conceived a new history for Jack Frost. None of the adults could correct the children of the town about the true origins of the Winter Spirit. Not when the tale spread throughout the town like a wildfire and had become the most popular schoolyard story. Even if any adult did try to correct the children, none would listen and in turn, they would correct them with the “true” version of Jack Frost.

To the children, Jack Frost was an adolescent boy who lived in Burgess during the time of the first colonists. He wasn’t a winter sprite or an elf as the Anglo-Saxon and Norse myths depicted him as. No, the children of Burgess insisted Jack Frost lived a normal life as a simple boy who had a love for games before he became something more. How the simple young colonist became Jack Frost was where the story got a bit sketchy from the countless retellings in the schoolyards and playgrounds. The gist of the lore was humble in that after a selfless act, the young boy became more than human one winter night. He became Jack Frost.

Many parents came to realize that their children were having serious—for children—debates about what sort of selfless act Jack Frost did to become immortal. None knew for sure save for seven children in Burgess who didn’t have to speculate. They knew the truth without a doubt, and it was something they weren’t going to share with anyone. It was too personal because it was not only the tale of Jack Frost’s birth but the extremely intimate account of Jackson Overland’s death. None of the seven were going to divulge that information since their belief in Jack Frost was unwavering and their loyalty even stronger.

The reason for the unwavering belief and loyalty was due to the older of the two Bennett siblings being Jack Frost’s first believer. However, that is another story altogether, reserved for a separate sitting. This story is not only of Jack Frost but the beginning of the myth of Jökul Frosti. Our story begins on one cold fall afternoon in a quaint two-story house where one Emma Bennett was herding her two children out the door.

“Why Mommy send us out when Daddy calls?” little Sophia Bennett asked around the knitted cap hanging from her teeth as she pulled on a yellow and green raincoat that clashed horribly with her white spotted blue pants and pink galoshes. Once the raincoat was secure, the young child took her multicolored knitted cap from her mouth and pulled it over uneven locks of blonde hair that perpetually covered the emerald-green color of her right eye.

Brown eyes rolled as larger calloused hands batted small hands away and pulled the child’s knitted cap on correctly. Once finished, James Bennett resumed zipping up his red vest over his white long-sleeved shirt before crouching down to check if his blue jeans were tucked safely inside his own red galoshes.

“Because, Mom doesn’t want us to hear what a lying sack of shi—ouff,” the older of the two siblings was interrupted when a perfectly round snowball hit him squarely in the face, causing him to stumble backwards. His foot slipped on an out-of-season patch of ice which sent him tumbling to the ground before a whole blanket of snow fell on top of him. Leaving him completely covered, save for a few strands of brown hair.

There was a fleeting pause before Sophie burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as her brother surged out of the snow pile. Brown eyes sweeping across the yard before settling in a wavering glare on a figure behind his sister. There, a lanky teenager stood dressed in only a blue hooded jacket with one hand tucked inside the hoodie’s pocket while his right hand loosely held onto a gnarled staff. Tattered brown threadbare trousers, which were not suitable for the chilly weather and had to be bound from the knees down with leather cord to keep the fabric from fraying further, covered the teen’s legs. The snow-covered brunet wasn’t annoyed by the other’s appearance; it was the casual way in which the teen leaned against the gnarled shepherd’s crook with a mischievous smirk that had the pinched expression forming on Jamie’s face.

“Tut, tut, tut, Jamie, lang~uage,” the teenager chastised in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger back and forth which only intensified the glare coming from those brown eyes. However, no matter how hard Jamie tried to force himself to continue his death stare at the young teenager; he found his lips twitching upwards as unbidden laughter bubbled up inside him. It was inevitable that laughter would come out. Jamie knew resistance was futile and gave in. Flopping back into the already melting snow, the young boy burst out laughing just as loud as his sister.

Soon the laughter began to subside, and a pale hand reached out in offering. One that the brunet readily accepted as a few stray chuckles passed his lips. Jamie was abruptly lifted up, his body feeling weightless for a few seconds before his feet lightly touched the ground once more. The boy wasted no time in propelling himself forward towards the teenager for a tackling hug. He could hear the air being knocked out of his victim as the two fell to the ground, but the laughter never subsided.

“Jack!” Jamie exclaimed between renewed bursts of laughter, looking up from his position on top of the teenager’s stomach and straight into striking blue eyes shadowed by the hood of the older boy’s jacket. “What are you doing here?”

The words were barely out of the young boy’s mouth before another shrill of excitement pierced the air and another body joined the piled.

“Jack!” Sophie squealed, worming her way next to her brother so the siblings were situated side by side on top of the teenager. “We missed you!”

“I’ve missed you two, too,” Jack chuckled, wrapping his arms around the two children for a tight bear hug. The staff in his right hand put a slight pressure against Jamie’s head, but the boy didn’t care. He and his sister could only laugh in exuberance as a sudden gust of wind whipped around them, lifting the three from the ground as if they were nothing but feathers in a breeze.

Jack swung the Bennett siblings around in the air, his hold on them was light but secure as they created a small wind vortex in the family’s backyard. Leaves were pulled from the tree and snow from the ground due to the slight vacuum, swaying around the trio as they spun fast enough to force the teen’s hood from his head to reveal an angular face and snow-white hair. All too soon, they steadily decelerated before their feet slowly came to rest on the ground once more.

“So how are two of my three favorite children today? And where has the third one of you gotten to?” Jack Frost, the resident spirit of Burgess and one of the Five Guardians of Childhood, inquired.

“Good,” Sophie chirped, as Jack twirled her around with his left hand like a ballerina, “Especially now that our favorite Guardian is here.”

Jamie, in a bid to take advantage of Jack’s distraction, slipped out of the Guardian of Fun’s hold and gathered up the snow which made its way down his vest. Compressing together what little powder was left; the nine-year-old child took careful aim and threw it at the white-haired boy. Without looking, Jack scooped up Sophie in his arms and effortlessly side-stepped the snow, causing the young girl in his arms to giggle.

“Your favorite Guardian?” the eternal teenager asked, unfazed by the pitiful excuse for a snowball. His voice was unusually high as he imitated shock, eyes opened comically wide. “I thought Bunny was your favorite.”

“Nope, you are,” Sophie said popping the p. Leaning forward, she gave Jack a small peck on the cheek as the teenager dodged yet another snowball coming from behind. “No tell Bunny, kay? He’d be sad.”

“Promise,” the white-haired teen said, pressing a fleeting kiss against her forehead before making a snowball out of thin air and handing it to the four-year-old. Without any prompting, the blonde threw it at her older brother and nailed him right in the chest. Jack carelessly waved his staff around, forming another blanket of snow right above Jamie and allowing gravity to do the rest. The once-again buried child popped back out of the white powder a second later with a snowball in hand, ready for action.

However, when the young boy saw both his sister and Jack standing only a few feet away from him, both holding snowballs of their own, he wisely let his drop to the ground.

“I yield, I yield,” Jamie declared, dramatically holding his hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. He could only watch in dread as emerald-green eyes met striking blue and a shiver ran up his spine that wasn’t from the cold. The twin mischievous grins crossing his opponents’ faces were all the warning the boy had before two balls of snow pelted him.

“We take no prisoners!” Sophie yelled, throwing yet another snowball at Jamie and that was when the real snowball battle began. True to her words, none of them took prisoners. Then again, they did not remain faithful allies in combat either. For just a little while into the Battle of the Backyard, the little girl teamed up with her brother and the Bennett siblings combined their forces against Jack Frost.

It was a grueling battle, snow slush everywhere as the mild temperatures of the fall warmed the little piece of winter Jack brought. Underhanded tactics were utilized, including forcing snow down the back of enemy combatants’ shirts and a blatant disrespect for the laws of physics as snowballs were redirected in mid-flight. A fighter even joined mid-battle, taking the side of the Bennett’s, Pippa ambushing Jack from behind.

The ends of her short reddish-brown hair brushed up against earlobes when her white cap caught a snowball which gave rise to an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Be it due to a little extra something put into the snowball or the cry of ‘betrayal by three-thirds of his favorite children,’ only Jack knew for certain. Brown eyes sparkled with mirth as she wrapped the green and white striped scarf once more around her neck and rolled up the sleeves of her green sweater before taking on Jamie.

After a half an hour of harsh combative conditions, the group called a truce after collapsing in various spots on the ground around the backyard.

“You never answered my question,” said Jamie in between deep breaths, not caring at all about the snow melting in his hair. Actually, it felt quite nice against his heated skin.

“What question was that?” the immortal teenager hummed, blue eyes closed as he enjoyed the rustling of the breeze passing by, stopping long enough to ruffle his hair in greeting before continuing on its way.

Rolling over so he was propped up on his elbows, Jamie looked at the relaxed figure of the Guardian of Fun. “What are you doing here? It’s not even winter yet.”

“Do I really need a reason?” Jack countered, never once opening his eyes. Stretching out his limbs, the white-haired teenager rearranged his arms behind his head in a more comfortable position. The new position, however, could not be all that comfortable in Jamie’s opinion, what with his staff digging into his head; yet the Guardian of Fun didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“Well, no,” the child replied, catching a glimpse of his sister sitting up out of the corner of his eye while Pippa shuffled closer. “But you usually don’t visit, except during the winter seasons.”

“No true! Jack visits on birthdays and mine’s in June,” Sophie pointed out.

“So is Monty’s and Cupcake’s,” Pippa reminded him with a roll of her eyes. Their favorite Guardian—no matter which Guardian of Childhood their favorite Guardian was—always paid a visit to them on their birthdays along with the Guardian of Fun, the latter of which bringing them some sort of little trinket from around the world. He never failed to show up for any of The Seven Brightest Lights—as Jack had dubbed the children who stood up to Pitch—of Burgess’ birthdays.

“Yeah, but those are special occasions,” Jamie argued with his cousin.

“So is today,” the white-haired teenager mumbled, halting the tangent that had the trio of children straining their ears to hear the next softly spoken words coming from Jack. “It’s Mabon.”

“What’s that?” the little blonde questioned, scooting closer to listen to what the spirit had to say.

Opening one eye to peer closely at the two, Jack expected to see impish smiles on their faces as they tried to hold a straight face, yet all he saw was honest curiosity which had him mystified. Some days the three-hundred-sixteen-year-old marveled at how much the world had changed since he was a child. Honestly, even if Christianity had been the predominant religion of the colonists back in his day, they had at least heard of the Old Religion holiday dividing the day and night equally. The world was definitely a different place than it was when he was growing up.

“It’s the Harvest Tide,” Jack tried once more. His clarification only got him one pensive look, one scrunched-up nose, and a quirked eyebrow in return. “The autumnal equinox, The Second Harvest Festival,” the spirit tried again, this time to be met with bewildered expressions resulting in a sigh escaping his lips. “You three really don’t know what I am talking about, do you?”

“Nope,” Jamie said, grinning widely. He had no inkling as to what the immortal teenager was going on about. Even so, the boy could see that whatever this ‘Mabon’ was, it was important to Jack and of all the places he could be today, he had chosen to spend it with them. The fact that the spirit was spending an important day with them, instead of somewhere else, had a warm feeling blossoming inside of the young boy.

“Not at all,” Pippa piped up, beaming. She too came to the same conclusion as her cousin and together they shared a pleased grin over a blonde head of hair.

“Nuh-uh!” Sophie shook her head negatively, blonde locks whipping around at the force behind the motion. Unlike the older two, the young child hadn’t understood the implication but was thrilled at the perspective of what was to come.

“Well,” the Guardian of Fun grinned, swinging himself upwards and with a little help from the winds and a little ice to brace his staff to the ground, Jack defied the laws of physics and took a seat on top of the crook. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you the tale of Mabon and how King Arthur rescued him along with his manservant, the warlock in hiding, Merlin. How does that sound?”

“Awesome!” the trio cheered in unison.

Two hours later, after forcefully hanging up the phone with her ex-husband, Emma wandered outside to find both her children and her sister’s—Anne’s—daughter staring off out into the distance. Being mentally exhausted, the single mother let the first thought flow into her mind be her conclusion that Jamie, Sophie, and Pippa were watching the dark rainclouds drifting over the far-off mountain range. However, if she’d ever taken her own words into consideration and believed that Jack Frost could be nipping at her nose, she would have been able to see the immortal teenager resting on top of a gnarled shepherd’s crook weaving a tale with his words and frost constructs.

Instead, Emma called her children and niece inside for a nice warm cup of hot chocolate. Her mind too absorbed in the latest argument she had with her ex-husband that she never noticed the unusual patches of melting snow located in her backyard and nowhere else. Neither did she take notice of the way Abby—the family’s pet Greyhound—was jumping around in circles, tail wagging, and barking happily. Something the dog only did when there were welcomed guests around.

Although she did notice the ramifications of Jack Frost’s visit as she tucked her children in that evening, each of them wishing her a happy Mabon before settling in, which after a moment of uncertainty, she replied in kind.

After closing the door to Jamie’s bedroom, the single mother looked down at the large Greyhound at her feet with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell is Mabon?”

And even though Abby just wagged her tail, Emma could have sworn she heard someone laughing at her.


Jack hung around the Bennett’s house long after the siblings went to sleep and the golden strands of Sanderson Mansnoozie’s Dreamsand drifted through the town of Burgess in wisps of gilded dust. Granules glistened as they worked their way underneath closed doors, through partially opened windows, and in some cases, through microscopic imperfections of the structures delaying the sands but never blocking them. Nothing could stop Dreamsand from reaching the children of the world, protecting their magnificent dreams, and guarding them against terrors in the night. For, it was the duty of the wielder of the golden granules as a Guardian of Childhood to keep and protect the dreams of children.

Much like the Guardian of Fun, the Guardian of Dreams had a soft spot for the small town of Burgess. His Dreamsand never failed to reach it, blanketing Burgess with the sweetest of dreams and pursuing The Seven Brightest Lights to their fullest extent. After all, they were the brave children who held onto and pulled the Dream Guardian back from the dark recesses of Pitch Black’s nightmares. Although, if his Dreamsand spent a little extra attention on one blond child who had begun to grow out of his awkward stage and started to fill out, none of the other Guardians of Childhood ever mentioned it.

None of them could say anything, not when the Guardian of Wonder left a certain dark-skinned child, who was in the habit of wearing beanies no matter what time of year, an extra present or two more than any other child without checking his list twice to see if he’d been naughty or nice. Nor could the Guardian of Hope point out the unfairness of having favorites when the dark-haired boy’s twin brother had the best basket of assorted goodies when Easter rolled around. As for a certain preteen girl, even if she had long since lost all her baby teeth, she would occasionally find little trinkets left by the Guardian of Memories to brighten her day.

Granted, all the Guardians of Childhood had a soft spot for the Bennett family and equally lavished the two siblings and their cousin with special treatment, because Jamie had done the impossible and kept believing even when Pitch Black directly targeted him and it took only her cousin’s belief to rekindle Pippa’s own, making her just as special. As for Sophie, she was everyone’s favorite, but Jack Frost would always be her and her family’s favorite Guardian. In return, they would always be his favorite children. Which was why when given the opportunity, Jack Frost decided to spend the seldom celebrated holiday of Mabon with them.

The holiday was important to him. Even though the colonial settlers he grew up with were of the Christian faith, his mother was a Druid by blood. She never wanted to stand out—especially in their small settlement—which was why she had kept that part of her heritage hidden as best as she could. But when his father was out hunting with the rest of the village men for days on end, he and his sister would huddle together under a blanket to listen to their mother’s stories about the magics of old and the traditions of the Old Religion until they fell asleep. Mabon, while not his favorite, was one of the clearer of the batch of his most recent recovered memories he had about his life as Jackson Overland and, even if he wouldn’t admit it, the Guardian of Fun was feeling a bit melancholy.

Jack regained only a handful of his memories over the last two years but time for the immortal moved differently. It was only now he was comprehending that his mother and sister were gone. He knew his family died long ago, yet it wasn’t until recently that it fully dawned on the spirit that he could not join them in the next life. Still, Jack worked to ward off his depression by remembering them. If he could remember his mother and sister, then they weren’t truly gone; he knew—from personal experience—the only way people were ever truly gone was when they were forgotten.

This was why Jack Frost spent the autumn equinox sharing his mother’s stories on the legend of Mabon. He’d weaved additional tales about a colonial boy and his little sister spending the holiday creating their own magic adjacent traditions away from the prying eyes of the Christian settlers. However, the real fun had been telling Jamie, Sophie, and Pippa the most powerful warlock ever born still roamed the earth to this day, waiting for the Once and Future King to return. Their reactions of shock and awe followed by excitement at the thought they had a chance of meeting The Merlin had made his day.

All in all, Jack had an enjoyable day right up until the pastel blues and greens of the artificial, magically generated, Northern Lights rippled across the cloudy night sky. The young immortal felt his muscles tense and his hand unconsciously tighten around his staff, before launching himself in the air with a terse request to the gathered winds to take him to the North Pole. The winds promptly complied, not needing to hear the urgency in the typically carefree voice to know why Jack had gone rigid and cold like the winter he manipulated.

The sight of the magical Northern Lights was not to be taken lightly and Nicholas St. North did not initiate the signal whimsically. Like a klaxon, the Northern Lights were an indicator of major trouble and major trouble was what awaited Jack at the end of the lights. The Guardian of Fun was expecting to face off against Pitch Black once again in another one of his attempts to rise to power. He was incorrect in assuming the boogeyman was the perpetrator.

No, the Guardians were in less of a battle of wills and more of a battle of endurance against shadowy, humanoid figures. E. Aster Bunnymund hadn’t even needed to see the creatures attacking the hidden magical village of Santoff Claussen to get an inkling of what they were up against. They had barely reached the first barrier of the village when the six-foot-one Pooka’s ears shot straight up. His greyish-blue fur bristling—the usual markings on his fur looking more sinister than normal—as he yelled about Nightmare Men before racing off.

Sandy’s short star-shaped stature became unbelievably stiff at the name and the golden cloud of Dreamsand swirling around him lazily ceased all motions. Golden symbols made from the Dreamsand of his robe rapidly formed over the little man’s head ending in the familiar symbol for hurry.

Jack immediately flew after the racing rabbit, catching up in the clearing where The Spirit of the Forest and The Bear had been holding off the creatures to the best of their abilities. Bunny was already cutting down the creatures with his boomerangs, using a handful of his Bomber Eggs to force back the intruders along with a certain white-haired spirit who had the misfortune of flying into the small clearing at that moment.

Both protectors of Santoff Claussen were showing signs of fatigue, having held the monsters at bay for the time it took the Guardians to respond to Ombric's—the founder of Santoff Claussen—distress call. However, Jack’s eyes did not focus on the weary warriors, but on the Nightmare Men. The creatures were like nothing Jack was expecting. He assumed they would be more humanoid versions of Pitch Black’s horse-like Nightmares made from corrupted Dreamsand. But they were nothing like the wannabe wingless Thestrals and Bunny had a reason to be alarmed at their appearance.

While Nightmare Men were shadowy, humanoid figures that easily dispersed into a cloud of smoke, they were also relentless in their attacks. Most disturbing was that they held no sense of loyalty to each other. If a Nightmare Man had an opening at the expense of one of its comrades, they would take it. Jack was repulsed at that discovery even if it had saved one of Toothiana’s mini fairies’ lives. Toothiana’s dual scimitars made short work of a wraith-like creature, which decapitated its own ally in an attempt to slaughter the fairy behind the other Nightmare Man.

Still, the revelation gave the Guardian of Fun inspiration, and he used the information against them. He didn’t waste his time or limited energy to freeze the Nightmare Men. Instead, he ducked, weaved, and hid behind opposing creatures as if he were playing a game of tag. Only, when a Nightmare Man missed ‘tagging’ him and hit one of their own, they wouldn’t be getting back up any time soon, if ever.

The strategy was effective to an extent, but what none of the Guardians had counted on was the sheer volume of the Nightmare Men. There seemed to be a never-ending barrage of the creatures that kept coming. No matter how many Toothiana and North sliced apart with their blades, there were many more Nightmare Men eager to try their luck against their steel. Bunny had long since used up his Bomber Eggs and was reduced to fighting under Toothiana using his boomerangs and martial arts to save his fur.

Sandy was busy providing aerial support for North, his whips easily thinning the number whereas the former Russian bandit took care of the rest. As for The Bear and The Spirit of the Forest, even though they were drained that didn’t stop them from fulfilling their duties and they continued to do all they could to protect the village. Together they picked off the few stragglers who managed to pass the Guardians. Unfortunately, they were losing ground and were slowly being pushed back closer and closer to Santoff Claussen.

“North!” Tooth’s voice pierced the air as she danced about in the night sky. The part human, part hummingbird hybrid twirled in the air as if she were performing in some kind of exotic ritual; the multi-shades of blues and greens with dashes of yellow and pink of her feathers seemed more like a shimmering dress and less like they were a part of her. Her fluid dance-like motion made her attacks all the more deadly as her blades and wings alike sliced through the approaching monsters eager to get a chance at killing the Tooth Fairy.

The warning came not a moment too late as the tall, buff, and—according to Bunny—a little rotund Russian brought up one of his self-forged sabers in a jerky defensive maneuver. The motion barely intercepted the guillotining strike, saving not only North’s head but also his long white beard.

Golden sands encircled the attacker, yanking the creature away from North, and flung it into another Nightmare Man that had taken advantage of The Bear’s distracted state to make a dash for the village.

“Ah, near blow. Help much-appreciated Tooth,” North huffed, blue eyes meeting pink for a second before the two were drawn back into their own fights.

The Guardian of Wonder thrust his saber behind him, gutting one of the creatures while using his other blade as a javelin to pierce through four Nightmare Men before being caught by the tempting beauty that was The Spirit of the Forest. She, in turn, used it to divide her current opponent down the middle. The sword was then returned to the Russian in the same fashion it had come to her, going through a few more Nightmare Men than on North’s throw during its return trip.

Her alluring smile exhibited a tiny bit of smugness at having outdone the ex-thief, something which had North hacking a few dozen Nightmare Men down as to not be outdone. “How you hanging up, Bunny?”

“Better than you, ya show pony,” the Pooka griped out, ducking under one shadowy humanoid wisp and kicking his hind leg out, making contact with another one of the never-ending army.

“I thought I was the show pony,” Jack mused, speeding past the Pooka. His staff carelessly connecting with the monsters surrounding Bunny and freezing them solid.

The horde of Nightmare Men chasing after the white-haired spirit didn’t even hesitate when they crashed through their frozen allies, shattering them to pieces. It was at that point that Bunny’s boomerangs decided it was time to return to their owner, taking out the remaining few creatures trailing after the Guardian of Fun.

“Ya a bloody show pony!” Bunny howled, catching the weapons and sending them out on their way once more. His paws darted out, catching what was the head of one of the shadowy wisps, green eyes gleaming into the hollow emptiness where eyes should have been before head-butting the Nightmare Man into nothingness. “North’s the original show pony.”

“Proud of title!” the Guardian of Wonder bellowed, sweat starting to soak through the armpits of his heavy red coat with black fur trim, while his red plaid shirt had long since been a victim to such stains some time ago.

“You would be,” Toothiana huffed exasperated, pink eyes rolling as another Nightmare Man fell to her blades. “Is this really the best time for this?”

“Best time? Not on ye life,” North replied, blades clashing together in a scissor-like fashion, taking care of three nightmares in the process.

“But we’re doing it anyway,” Jack continued, flying around Sandy; letting the little man’s whips finish off his new Nightmare Men stalkers chasing him while he froze the ones surrounding the Guardian of Dreams and let gravity take care of the solid slabs of ice. The immortal teen mentally doubled the tally when one of the ice blocks of shadowy wraiths crushed those on the ground.

Regardless, his best by far had been when an earlier block of ice had crashed down not a foot away from the white-furred bear with the little black patch under his chin, flattening three other Nightmare Men. He had given himself eight points for that stunt.

“It’s fun,” the Guardian of Hope finished off, not the least bit bothered by the fur above his left eye slowly becoming matted with blood trickling out of a rather nasty gash. Sandy nodded his head in agreement and added his own comment with a brief few symbols that only Bunny caught. “Right, you are Sandy.”

“I must agree with Toothiana,” The Spirit of the Forest said, her hand going straight through one of the shadowy humanoids surrounding her. The number of which was slowly growing as more and more got past the wearing Guardians. “This is not the time for such banter.”

“You’re just being a stick in the mud,” Jack let out a strained laugh as he darted under the woman’s raised arms and plowed right into the monster behind her. The blade-like weapon which was just a breath away from slaying Santoff Claussen’s last line of defense, evaporated once the Nightmare Man holding it was knocked out by Jack’s momentum.

However, the sheer force of the dive through the white-haired spirit off-kilter, and without room to recover, he plowed into the ground. His body rolled against the battle-scarred terrain, ripping at his clothes, and scraping his skin. He only came to a halt thanks to a large boulder that decided to catch him, though Jack could have done without the boulder’s assistance. 

Jack!

He didn’t know who was screaming his name, or if it was multiple people—which would be a relief since that meant the echoing of his name wasn’t a byproduct of a concussion—crying out; either way, it allowed him to ground himself from the not-so-great landing.  

“I’m fine,” he croaked out, his breathing ragged as a sharp intense pain radiated from his head. 

Jack avoided opening his eyes until his mind stopped spinning and he could tell up from down. When blue eyes did reopen, it was instinctual as a deafening roar pierced the air, causing his eyelids to snap open and blue orbs to wildly search for the danger. It took Jack’s mind a minute to clear the hazy outline of the white hairy appendages covered with metal-like armor and recognized the legs belonging to The Bear and not to North as he originally assumed. Either way, he was too thankful to care who it was saving his skin and didn’t give the conjured beast a second look as The Bear ripped apart the Nightmare Men converging on him.

“Would it be appropriate to say I owe you one?” the spirit moaned as he was dragged out from beneath white fur by The Spirit of the Forest. Jack counted it as a win that his words were only slightly slurred after the beating his body took, his head in particular.

“Only if you want to admit you are an idiot,” the woman countered, using her sleeve to clean off the thick liquid from his temple. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” the Guardian of Fun volleyed back without missing a beat.

Leaning away from The Spirit of the Forest’s touch, the wound she'd been treating welled up with ichor once more.  With a swipe of two of his fingers, ice formed over the wound and stopped the shimmering bloodlike fluid from leaving his body. Grabbing his staff, Jack pulled his feet underneath him and was about to launch himself back into the fray but was held in place by slim digits encircling his wrist.

“You’re in no condition to fight,” the woman’s eyes narrowed onto his free arm currently wrapped around his ribs.

Ripping his hand away from the protector and reflexively positioning his staff in front of his body, Jack’s eyes hardened into glaciers. “They need all the help they can get.”

“But they need you alive more, young Guardian,” The Bear spoke up, voice gruff and flat even as his paw shredded another monster. “They have been fighting together far longer than you’ve been alive and can hold their own without you. It is best if you stay with us; let yourself recover. You can still provide us assistance keeping the Nightmare Men from breaching the barrier.”

Gritting his teeth, Jack tersely nodded his head and gave in. The Bear had a point. He would be more helpful to Santoff Claussen’s protectors than fighting alongside the other Guardians. Besides, no matter how much he hated to admit it—even to himself—the Guardians of Childhood worked better as The Big Four rather than The Big Five.

Viciously shoving those thoughts to the side, the Guardian of Fun used his staff as a crutch to pull himself up. He then spun the staff around his shoulders, bolts of blue energy flinging in various directions, freezing the dozen or so Nightmare Men who'd managed to sneak past the two protectors while they'd been preoccupied with aiding him. The Bear and The Spirit of the Forest took that as the initiative it was and resumed cutting down the thinning ranks that slipped by The Big Four.

The monsters that did get through were fewer and far in between as time moved on and Jack wasn’t there to hinder The Big Four’s team dynamics. The horde of Nightmare Men diminished and there did seem to be an end in sight. An end Jack had a very good view of; one which included a win for them but at the price of one of their own. Something he was not willing to allow to happen.

Crouching down, the spirit called for the winds and felt them respond immediately to his frantic cries as Jack flung himself into the sky. The winds acted like a slingshot; vastly increasing his speed so when he did collide with Toothiana, the momentum should be enough to throw them both out of the way of the volley of spears. 

The Tooth Fairy only had a moment to react, startled at the impromptu collision with her fellow Guardian, before she was abruptly yanked back and out of the way by golden whips. Whips which failed to account for the immortal teen’s involvement. So when the volley of spears did intersect with the Guardian, pink eyes could do nothing but widen in horror as Toothiana reached out in a desperate attempt to grab Jack but only grasped thin air. She could only watch helplessly as three of the spears gouged large gashes across the younger Guardian's stomach as he twisted midair in a futile effort to avoid the attack.

The torn edges of Jack's hoodie blossomed with dark patches, yet it went unseen by the last remaining member of the Sisters of Flight.  Pink eyes couldn't be pulled from the cloudy blue eyes staring listlessly back at her. Blue eyes which would haunt the Guardian of Memories' dreams for many decades to come.

Jack opened his mouth, yet no words were forthcoming. He could feel himself falling, toppling backwards, and it felt eerily similar to falling through the ice for a second time. His limbs went numb as the cold seeped in and the edge of his vision began to black out. The moon’s light was the last thing he remembered seeing before his eyes unwillingly closed.

That was not the end; the end came when white-hot pain tore through his body and red flares burned designs beneath his eyelids as a golden light engulfed the Guardian of Fun.

Notes:

~10/7/2018 edited

Chapter 2: Dawning of the Olden Days

Chapter Text

Darkness. That was the first coherent thought to flutter through his addled, semi-conscious mind. It was dark, but it was not as cold as one would expect. Neither was it hot. If anything, Jack couldn’t distinguish the temperature which, in retrospect, wasn’t a cause for concern. After all, it was how he’d spent the last three centuries. What was a tad bit disconcerting was how his whole body felt dull. Jack would go as far as saying lethargic even as his mind slowly swam back into consciousness.

It took a herculean amount of effort just to open his eyes and most of said effort was expended on getting his eyelids to cooperate. There were a few times were his eyelids fluttered closed after getting a glimpse of some kind of glowing light, which Jack only realized had a red hue on his fifth try. The logical part of his mind thought he should be afraid; the prior moments of the battle sluggishly trickling back into the forefront of his mind. The memory of him being sliced by multiple weapons should have had him on edge and yet he didn’t feel anything. Not pain, not fear, not nothing; he just didn’t feel.

If anything, he was apathetic and distant and when he was finally able to get his eyes to cooperate and stay open, his vision was assaulted in what most would describe as an ominous red glow. However, in his current state, Jack couldn’t see it as such. In his eyes, while the light emanating from beneath him was blood red, it had a pacifying effect on him with the knowledge that he was not dead. At least he didn’t think he was dead which could account for his apathy. But he was not going to dwell on that possibility; not yet at least.

“Where am I?” the white-haired teen pondered, wincing when the rough crackling words reached his ears. Jack took a moment to moisten his dry throat before seeking out the answer to his question.

Gingerly, he pushed himself upright and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Though, the red hue had him further disoriented, distorting his surroundings and throwing his perception of colors askew. Even his hoodie didn't seem right, looking more purple with black blotchy stains than its normal blue.

Fingers—dyed red by the backlight—nimbly plucked at the frayed edges of the fabric and drew the bottom of his hoodie up to his chin. A scowl blossomed across his face at the sight of the same blotchy black stains skirting the slashes in his usual white shirt that currently appeared scarlet. Jack had to tell himself now was not the time to mourn the loss of the shirt his sister worked so hard to make him in his mortal life but to prepare himself. The eternal teenager braced for the pain to come as he peeled back the destroyed material to get a better look at his injuries.

Jack was thrown when all he felt was a slight tingling instead of the searing pain he was anticipating, especially when he got a better look at the uncovered wound. His customarily pale skin was torn and puckered up in three almost parallel lesions. Ichor—for that was what he referred to the shimmering opalescent bloodlike substance his spiritual body secreted when injured—appeared black in the tinted light and welled up slowly as the spirit spent a moment watching the liquid seep out. His eyes kept telling his mind he was injured, yet he felt no pain. Jack even went as far as to poke the injury only to feel the same slight tingling as he’d felt before and nothing more.

“Okay, that is not normal,” the eternal teenager informed no one. It was a habit he’d formed during the centuries he was invisible and the spirit had yet to break himself of the practice completely. It still startled him when one of the other Guardians or The Seven Brightest Lights would respond to such comments, but he was proud of himself that he didn’t let it show. Well, there were the times when Monty and Sandy did give him an odd look or two, but neither one of them said anything, so he counted it as a win.

Taking a deep breath, Jack pushed his wandering thoughts aside and refocused on the task at hand. He had to stop the bleeding or else he would finally find out if he could die or not. It wasn't something he wanted to test.

The young Guardian proceeded to run his right hand over the three lacerations and felt nothing. Not even the slightest of tingles as ice crystals feebly formed at the edges of puckered skin which had his eyebrows furrowing together. Lips sank as he tried once more to create a bandage over his injuries only to partially cover one of the gashes.  The third attempt had similar results as his first two tries, but at least this time the wounds were sealed with a thin layer of ice, even if he was a bit unsatisfied with the results.

“Now what to do?” Jack asked, half expecting to hear the comforting currents of the winds as he surveyed the visible area and felt a slight tinge of disappointment when there were none.

Violet-tinged eyes immediately fell on the crook to his right; the gnarled piece of wood was half shadowed by the darkness and partially bathed in the red hue. It was then the spirit realized the luminescence wasn’t one big source of light but inlaid in the ground in some kind of intricate pattern of lines and symbols. The thickest of the lines formed a circle surrounding him and was by far the brightest source of light.

What was outside the circle, Jack couldn’t say. It was like there was an unseen wall blocking the red glow; shadowing whatever lay beyond its perimeter in complete darkness. No matter how hard he tried, the spirit could not see into the black abyss. Straining his ears brought him no closer to finding out where he was either. He could hear nothing more than an unvarying splash of water dripping into what he assumed was a stagnant pool.

The retrieval of his staff, which should have been a problem with his current injuries, was no more difficult than simply stretching out an arm and grabbing onto the familiar gnarled wood. His body’s lack of response led his mind to the unwanted thought he might have actually died this time, finally crossing over, but the notion was quickly dismissed once again. Not to mention, if he was dead, then why was he still injured? Instead of dwelling on uncertainties, Jack focused on finding out where he was and then maybe he could find his way out.

“Hopefully, there is an easy way out,” the Guardian of Fun mumbled which was often the fastest and easiest way to jinx himself.

Jack tried and failed to exit the circle many times in many different ways, but the endeavor was proving to be futile. Not one to give up, the immortal teen continued to search to no avail. Walking around the perimeter of what Jack assumed to be some type of rune-based array gave the spirit a vague impression of the design at the back of his mind. The purpose of which was clear, seeing as he could not leave said array.

His subconscious, however, insisted he’d seen some of—or even the entire—array before. Without any wind to call upon for an aerial view, he couldn’t confirm if or when he’d come across the image. So, he pushed the idea of the array to the back of his mind and resumed walking in circles. After four laps around the limited space, Jack began tapping his staff against the ground.

The motion was unintentional, yet his pace slowed so his staff was tapping in tandem with the rhythmic drops of water reverberating in the background. In a way, the sound soothed Jack, preventing him from growing agitated at his confinement and lack of power. In turn, he was able to keep a clear head. When his staff hit the ground with no echoing splash, the white hairs on the back of his neck immediately stood on end and his body became much like that of an ice sculpture.

“Who’s there?” Jack shouted, standing his ground while violet-tinged eyes darted every which way. Still, his eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness beyond the illuminated array. The same could be said for what was behind him when he abruptly turned in hopes of catching a glimpse of the mysterious presence he could sense.

“Where am I?” he questioned as he felt the presence shift around him in a flurry of movements. By concentrating solely on his sense of hearing and disregarding what his eyes couldn’t see, the immortal teenager could faintly hear the ruffling of fabric and footsteps. Jack couldn’t locate where the noise was coming from no matter how much he concentrated on the sound or which way he twisted and turned to get a glimpse of whoever—or whatever—was out there.

Spinning around, the spirit stumbled back when his nose all but touched the face right before him. His feet tripped over each other as he backpedaled and for the first time in centuries, Jack hit the ground full force. The winds which ordinarily cushioned his falls were absent and the only reason he wasn’t lying flat on his back was due to his natural survival instincts. His hands went back, catching himself on the hard stone and gravel but in the process, his grip on his staff was dislodged, sending his only weapon skittering away.

Jack felt the blood drain from his face and into his hammering heart, where copious amounts of adrenaline flooded through his body. In spite of that, when his mind screamed at him to get away from the imposing figure, the eternal teenager was rooted to the spot. The small tremor in his arms had nothing to do with supporting his body. He had to gulp down a whimper, which threatened to expose his panic. Pitch never frightened him this much; but then again, for all of Pitch Black’s grandstanding, he never looked anything like the intimidating figure above him.

Armor made of a mixture of leather, fur, and metal covered every inch of the bulky figure’s body, making it impossible for Jack to tell if the person was male or female or even human for that matter. Talons, where human hands should have been, glinted wickedly in the dull light and horns swelled from the creature’s head. Tusks bigger than necessary jutted out from the lower part of the creature’s face and were stained—along with patches of the armor—in the same shade of black his ichor took on in the dim red light, or it could have very well been the creature’s skin for all Jack knew.

Flickering blue—dyed violet—eyes noticed that while he had been studying the creature, it had been studying him. The being tilted its head to the point one of its tusks was touching its shoulder and crouched down on all fours. Creeping closer, the creature reached the edge of the circle keeping Jack confined and bathed the being’s face in an ominous light. With the extra radiance, the white-haired spirit caught a glimpse of the wrappings creating the illusion of a face and tiny slits in the darkened area of the now identifiable mask’s eyeholes which allowed the wearer to see.

Gulping down his emotions bubbling to the surface, Jack steeled his resolve. “Where am I?”

“You are here,” a muffled voice resonated through the mask, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female. It took him even longer to recognize the language being spoken as an Old Norse dialect, but his long stint being invisible had its perks. “How did you get here?”

“I woke up here,” Jack honestly answered back in Old Norse. Pulling his legs under his body, the teen kept the movements slow while his eyes stayed focused on the armored warrior. The person didn’t seem to notice his retreat or change of language, choosing instead to rock back into a crouch, hand rubbing at the chin of the mask. Taking the opportunity presented to him, the immortal teen scuffled further into the array and away from the edge. His left hand fumbled behind him, blindly searching for his lost staff, and came up empty.

The figure nodded, horns swaying at the movement, yet Jack could tell it was not a nod of understanding. More like the armored warrior was trying to connect what he said with knowledge the white-haired spirit lacked. Stifled muttering filled the darkness as the figure stood up and began pacing around the outside of the array.

Jack took the chance to peek behind him, eyes spying the familiar sight of the shepherd’s staff. Violet orbs redirected on the figure, noting the person was halfway around the circle still muttering which left him with an opening he wasn’t about to waste. Tumbling backwards in a controlled roll he had perfected over the centuries, Jack easily grabbed his staff and repositioned himself in the same pose as before, if a few feet from his original position.

His deception was flawlessly executed, yet when the figure finished the full circuit, the mutterings drifted off when the being glanced his way. The large round shoulder pads of the armor rose and fell just as abruptly as an audible gasp echoed around them. Jack couldn’t see the person’s eyes, but he had the suspicion that they were fixed on his staff he’d unsuccessfully hidden behind him.

Whatever he had been expecting was not for the armored warrior to step into the array and walk right up to him. Hands hidden below the talons supported either side of the mask, pulling it over the person’s head. A slender face edged with lines engraved from a lifetime of happiness and worry was stained red along with tresses of hair bound back. Thin lips gaped open and brown eyes—obviously not their true color due to the current lighting—stared into his as if their owner couldn’t believe what was right in front of her.

The older woman—for it was indeed a woman—continued toward him. Jack, on the other hand, recoiled. He would have scrambled back once more, yet his grip on his staff hindered his movements, making it near impossible to escape without snapping the piece of wood. What was worse was the spirit was seriously considering the damage to his staff as an acceptable loss if it guaranteed him his freedom.

Jack must have been telegraphing his plans to flee, for the armored warrior took a few steps back and away from the eternal teenager. Giving him enough space so that he no longer felt as if he was in immediate danger. There, she took the time to study him. Searching for something which she didn’t find if the growing frown on her face was any indication.

“Do you know who I am?” the woman inquired, head tilting to the side once more. Her voice was soft and gentle, one like a mother addressing a frightened child. The atmosphere changed at her gesture and Jack could feel his body subconsciously uncoiling. Be that as it may, his hand tightened around the slim wooden shaft, his only form of protection.

“Should I?” Jack asked, using his staff as a crutch to stand up. An irked grimace passed the immortal teen’s lips when he noticed brown eyes measuring the difference in height between him and the piece of wood. He couldn’t help he had become a Guardian when he did, forever being stuck as he’d been before his ascension, which didn’t make him small in his professional opinion. Adults were just freakishly tall, that was all.

Chuckling slightly at the transparent attempt at false bravo from the young boy, the woman gave the eternal teenager a disarming smile. “I am the Dís of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.”

White hair swayed slightly as Jack bobbed his head, a long-buried memory of his time with his mother bubbled to the surface of his mind. Meeting a Dís was considered to be a real honor, his mother once told him, but she had also left him with a warning. While Dís were mortals chosen to become protective spirits over certain lands; or in certain cases, protective spirits over clans, they were tasked with maintaining the sacred balance in their territory. In the days of old, they were regularly called upon to pass judgment over those found wanting, but worthy of the Old Religion’s attention.

Then again, meeting a Dís in this day and age was almost unheard of, even by immortals’ standards. Jack had never personally come across one of the beings of the Old Religion in his three hundred years as a spirit, but he had heard stories. The last to have crossed paths with a Dís had been when he was still a newly minted immortal and he only heard about the incident decades later while eavesdropping on some water nymphs.

From their gossip, Pitch was sent fleeing for his immortal life. It took centuries for the Boogeyman to regain the power he lost in the brief encounter with the very territorial Dís he had carelessly offended. After having fought with the Nightmare King himself, the immortal teenager could only imagine how powerful that particular Dís must have been. He also had a revelation and with that revelation, Jack came to one conclusion; he was never going to piss off a Dís.

“Pleasure,” Jack grinned, nervously flipping his staff from his right hand, over his shoulders and into his left hand allowing him to hold out his now free hand. The woman, instead of shaking it as the immortal had grown accustomed to over the last half-century, cupped his hand with both of hers. “I’m Ja—"

“Jackson Overland, I know,” the woman’s eyes glistened, her hands slightly tightening around Jack’s hand, but it wasn’t painful. “I have been waiting for you. Berk has been waiting for you. The White Goddess has seen it once and she shall see it again.”

Jack didn’t have to stifle his knee-jerk reaction of yanking his hand back from the Dís’s gentle grip at the mere touch. No, her knowledge of who he was kept him rooted to the spot. Most immortals didn’t know who he was, or if they did, they never seemed to remember his name or thought of Jack Frost as insignificant. Yet, for her to know Jackson Overland? That was nearly impossible.

Jack didn’t even know his mortal name until only two years ago. So, either he must have done something extraordinary in his mortal life for the Dís to know his name or she was clairvoyant. Either way, whether her knowing his true name was a good sign or not, only time would tell.

Despite his uncertainty of the Dís knowing who he had been in his mortal life, Jack couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment from staining his cheeks. The color only faded once the Dís slowly released his hand; but not before tucking something into the immortal teen’s palm and taking a step back. Her eyes darkened as they darted to his hand and blue-tainted violet eyes followed. It was a ragged piece of parchment tanned with age but drawn in charcoal was a rune mark. A smaller version of the one that made up the center of the array he was currently standing in, not that Jack knew that in his grounded state.

His head immediately jerked up, seeing that the Dís was now standing outside of the array. A crystalline tear rolling down her face was the last image Jack saw before the array beneath his feet exploded in a brilliant display of color. The abnormally subdued wounds on his stomach coming to life with the explosion, bursting with pain and agony. The last words of the Dís would forever stay with him as the center rune mark swallowed the Guardian of Fun.

“I am truly sorry for your fate, but he needs you.”


The next time Jack came to, he wished he hadn’t. Scorching pain coursed through his veins, consuming his whole body and it wasn’t just because of his wounds. This was different; this felt like his whole body was on fire and each molecule was being destroyed one by one. He had tried to bite back the screams of pain, only succeeding in biting through his lip before screaming his throat raw.

“To—o… h—ot… wan’ co—ld…,” Jack croaked out a plea, longing for the snow and ice that was usually at his disposal. At least then he could numb his body from this raging inferno, but the chill of winter inside of him felt like it was fading; the intense heat melting the ice in his veins. “N—o… go… co—ld, ne—ed… co—old, plea’….”

For a moment—a brief moment—Jack could feel his body cool down. He almost felt better, to a certain degree, but the relief was only temporary. The icy core within him flickered weakly before vanishing as red-hot flames burned through the remnants of winter. His screams had gone silent as his lungs fought for air but were unable to draw in a single breath through the pain.

Silent pleas to the other Guardians, to Manny, to the Dís—to anyone—for help, all went unanswered. Jack desperately wished for a comforting hand to soothe his pain and whispered words of reassurance. None of which he received.

There was a time when his tortured mind went numb to the pain and he could feel the winds caressing his body as though he were soaring through the skies. Yet there was a constant pressure against his wounds as if he was pressed against something. The pressure aggravated his injuries and conflicted with his prior impression of the winds carrying him. That too became a distant memory as the fire inside him became the only thing Jack could comprehend.

Opening his eyes was out of the question, the one time he tried left him feeling nauseous from vertigo. Coupled with the vivid colors and hazy shapes that refused to stay still, Jack could almost ignore the flames in favor of his head splitting open. He got the briefest of glimpses of his surroundings before his eyes fluttered closed. Overall, the pain that accompanied opening his eyes wasn't worth the action.

Another scream tore from his throat, body seizing at a sudden jolt. He no longer felt any pressure being applied to his stomach wounds, but he could feel the heaven-sent, cool, damp, wonderful snow on the side of his face. His clothing was already soaking up the moisture, producing a shutter from Jack when the blessed chill made contact with his heated skin. Such a change in the temperature doused the flames yet the fire wasn't extinguished.

The deafening hum in his ears frizzled out and if he strained his hearing, Jack could vaguely hear the sounds of rushing waters and the music of the winds cantering through canopies of leaves and branches. It was a distraction for the pain, listening to his surroundings, but his focus kept slipping. The eternal youth was too drained that even the pain wasn't enough to keep him awake for much longer.

Jack almost became a part of the blackness when a sharp snap had him flinching. The involuntary reaction sent waves of agony emanating from his injuries and out toward his leaden limbs. Jolting him away from the blackness and resurrecting the buzzing in his ears. He whimpered at the renewed agony, knowing it would be more painful to scream, and wishing it would all end.

He might have mumbled something to that effect since he swore he heard gruff coos of comfort intended to soothe him. Though, Jack could not be sure as his mind began to spiral back into the blissful abyss of unconsciousness. 


Waking for the third time was a mixture of his prior two experiences. Like the first, his whole body felt numb and heavier than usual. Yet, akin to the second awakening, his senses were bombarded with information that was overwhelming. His mind insisted there was a dull ache and cautioned him against any sudden movements since that would not be advisable with his injuries.

He could feel he was lying on some type of lumpy surface and if Jack had to hazard a guess, he’d say he was on some type of bedding. The immortal teenager heard muffled noises off in the distance, evoking images from his childhood as a colonial boy when there was no underlying hum of electricity coming from the various forms of technology in the modern era but the hustle and bustle of people laboring away to survive. There was the familiar, comforting sound of the whispering of the winds just a little way off. He could hear them howling as they sped across the top of open water, only slowing down to cut through foliage and part around man-made structures.

However, it was the smell that eased his beating heart. He could smell the crisp cold of winter’s touch. Snow and ice were all around yet, buried under that was the thick scent of wood and a hint of metal along with something else which he could not identify in his addled state. From the strong scent of snow, he could tell a brutal snowstorm dropped a thick blanket of white powder relatively recently, no more than a week and a half ago to be exact.

Having learned from his last experience in waking, Jack slowly cracked open his eyes and quickly shut them again when an intense light filtered through. The moan that accompanied his foolish action sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Despite this, the Guardian of Fun was not one to be deterred and he forced his eyes to creep open once more, giving them a moment to adjust before blinking a few times to clear his vision.

Eyes groggily stared up at the unfamiliar swirls and rings in the wood of the roof above him. A faint plopping of water on water had Jack coming back to himself and he forced his eyes to move away from the tantalizing designs and follow the main support beam to the adjacent wall. Jack turned his head as much as he could while lying on his back when his eyes could no longer follow the structure.

From there, Jack could see the vaulted wooden walls, which intersected with one another at the main support beam. The flooring was made up of cobblestone with a decent-sized hole for the hearth that was crackling away with life and light. Over the top of the fire, a large metal cauldron hung as the contents bubbled away. There was a fortified table not too far off to the side of the cauldron with various wooden and stone utensils laid scattered across the top along with different varieties of leafy plants and berries.

Turning his head to the other side gave Jack a glimpse of a stone slab with innumerable knives and other crude tools. There were furs and skins in various stages of the tanning process hanging above the stone workstation, but that wasn’t all. Skins and furs were everywhere. Brown and grey furs sprawled out on the floor while beige leather hung from the walls. There were flies buzzing around one particular heap of damp black fur with blood dripping off the slab, showing just how fresh some of the kills were.

It was because of the opened window above the bed and the crisp fresh breeze that the putrid smell of decay was kept at bay rather than overwhelming the whole house. Still, now that Jack knew the smell was there, he could faintly pick up the stench of dried blood and the decay of flesh. This, sadly for the teenager, had his stomach revolting and his body lurching over the side of the bed as he dry-heaved and gagged, which grew even more forceful when he aggravated his wounds.

Once the bout of nausea safely passed, Jack urged his body upright, which was a struggle in itself. His legs kept getting tangled in the faded grey furs covering his body while his arms refused to hold his weight for long. He struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed and by the time he managed to arrange himself in an upright position, Jack’s breathing was coming out in hard, ragged gasps. The entirety of his body ached but that was nothing compared to the searing spikes of pure agony radiating from his stomach.

“I feel like death warmed over,” the three-hundred-sixteen-year-old grumbled around bouts of dry heaves. It was then that Jack noticed his voice was rough and scratchy from disuse, but only vaguely. He was in too much pain to care how he sounded.

Despite everything, Jack stood up. Wobbling on his feet for a moment, the immortal teenager took an unsteady step toward the far corner of the space where his crook was propped up against the wall adjacent to the only door. It was a slow process, one foot in front of the other should have been easy, but not when one of those feet just happened to stumble over an uneven patch in the cobblestone and sent him tottering into the hard-wooden table. He almost blacked out from the white-hot pain when his side connected with the edge of the table, but he hung on, working to control his rapidly heaving chest and heavy panting.

“No complaining,” he weakly scolded himself, forcing his legs to hold his weight and completely ignoring the black spots dancing across his vision. Jack found the table made for a good crutch; by keeping a hand on the stable surface, he could stumble forward without falling. Then again, the length of the table wasn’t as long as he would have liked and the assistance it provided ran out all too fast. The immortal teenager found himself swaying more than walking the last few feet to his staff.

“A little more, a yard or two at best,” Jack encouraged, although, it could have been a hundred feet for all the good it did him when his body started to tremble and waver.

He almost reached the gnarled piece of wood, less than a foot to go when his body failed. Jack would have taken another fall if not for the convenient timing of the door opening. One large muscular arm hooked around his shoulders, and for a moment, Jack thought North had come to his rescue. However, the thick brogue that accompanied the arm was definitely not Russian.

“Whoa there, Laddie, where do you think you’re goin’? You’re in no shape to be movin’ a bout,” an unperturbed robust voice scolded. Jack, stiffened at the unfamiliar contact, was spurred into action as the words were spoken in the Old Norse dialect he was becoming better acquainted with.

He wriggled out of the lax hold, his body lurching forward and slamming against the wall. Jack was lucky enough he was able to snag his staff during his struggles. Once his fingers grasped the wood, he expected to feel the euphoria of his frost surging forward to coat the crook’s bark. However, his staff stayed frost-free. The euphoria of winter surfacing never came. Instead, he was left with a hollow feeling inside.

“Laddie, Laddie, calm down,” the thick brogue drew Jack’s eyes to the tall imposing figure standing over him. The man was massive. It was no wonder he had mistaken him for North, but clearly, the man wasn’t the Guardian of Wonder. Where North had a fluffy long white beard and wore a heavy red and black fur coat with matching fur cap, this stranger had a long straight blond beard with the ends of his mustache tied off with twine. He wore a tawny matted fur sleeveless tunic and brown rawhide pants with thick boots. On top of his head was a horned helmet Jack had only seen in children’s books and movies about Vikings.

None of this compared to the giant crudely made double-bladed axe in the man’s hand. Specifically, the distorted reflection in the metal; although not as clear as mirrors or even still water, Jack could see the distorted blurry reflection of himself. While he couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, he could clearly make out his form huddled on the floor. His skin tone appeared off-colored in the metal’s reflection and he was wearing an unfamiliar brown shirt. More importantly, he could make out the messy mass of his hair.

The messy mass of his brown hair.

Jack could feel his world come crashing down on him. Unknowingly, amber eyes dilated into small pinpricks as the words of the unknown man grew to be a mere buzzing in the back of his mind. Little puffs of fog formed and dispersed in front of his mouth from the dropping temperature in the room with both the window and the door wide open, which only served to increase the number of tiny puffs as Jack’s breathing became exponentially faster. His body started to shudder and his eyes widened at the visual representation of his body heat rising.

Jack was alive.

As Jack Frost, a spirit, he was neither alive nor dead. When he’d fallen through the ice all those years ago, the Man in the Moon froze his existence at the brink of death. His body—his spirit? Jack was never sure what to call his current state of being—was altered at that moment. His failing heart was forced to keep on beating sluggishly despite the hypothermia setting in; tricking his mind into believing his core temperature was normally a few degrees above freezing. The white hair and blue eyes were unexpected side effects of the transformation.

An added byproduct of effectively being forced to live while dying in a frozen pond was that he’d absorbed winter’s chill, allowing him—at first—small feats of frosting things over that later grew to include his ice and snow manipulation. Bunny often wondered about his winter abilities, being from the Golden Age where Constellation Families routinely created their kind of Guardians to fight off the evils of their world and those Guardians never turned out like him. Their powers—and by extension, Manny’s powers—only enhanced what was already there. Constellation Families couldn’t give their chosen champions extra abilities like the immortal teenager gained and it irked the Pooka to no end that there was no discernible explanation for Jack’s frost.

Jack made a point of making his sister and the children of his village laugh and enjoy themselves even in the hardest of times. This was what Manny had taken and enhanced in him after his pseudo-death. With a touch of his powers, he could bring the feeling of excitement and elation to the forefront of children’s minds like North could bring wonder and joy to children’s eyes as they tore open their Christmas presents and Bunny brought hope and new beginnings to children each Easter. His gift to create frost and ice was unlike any of The Big Four’s abilities.

Still, each of his unique talents was a part of himself, a part which Jack was frantically retreating within himself to find. He searched for the touch of winter that allowed him to ice objects over at his will, for the spark of exhilaration and excitement that was teeming to be released, for the flurry of power that had fern patterns growing in frost over surfaces at his mere touch. For the part of himself that made him Jack Frost.

Yet, the capacity to channel the chill of winter along with his ability to bring a person’s enthusiasm and elation to the moment was gone.

He was mortal.

Chapter 3: A Viking's Perspective

Chapter Text

Finn Hofferson considered himself to be an average Viking. He had the characteristic Hoffersons’ blond hair and eyes not only dark in color but darkened by worldly burdens. It was because of his keen eyesight that he could easily spot movement and react promptly. It had saved his life on a number of occasions from Outcasts and dragon ambushes alike. Furthermore, Finn viewed himself as being of average height with an above-average build. When measured against the chief of the tribe he was proud to say he was only slightly shorter than the man larger than life. Although he was nowhere near as built as the chief, the Viking consoled himself with the fact there was only a handful of people who could measure up to Stoick the Vast.

He had been, at one point, the fiercest and most well-respected Viking on Berk, second only to the chief. Taking on dragons other warriors lost limbs and lives to, Finn always came out the other side with a few more scars but life and limbs intact. A villager had once called him ‘Fearless Finn Hofferson’ after a particularly vicious Monstrous Nightmare nearly separated the healer of the tribe’s head from her shoulders, only for him to decapitate it in front of the entire village. The name spread like a wildfire along with the story of him saving Gothi and soon, the whole town had taken to calling him ‘Fearless Finn Hofferson.’ A moniker that stuck and one he was quite proud of.

Finn became a minor celebrity overnight in the eyes of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. While he hadn’t taken advantage of his fame, the Hofferson didn’t discourage the attention either. He had to admit, if only to himself, he had liked the attention. The pretty women who had only given him a passing glance before were falling over themselves to talk to him. He received preferential treatment whether it came to rations or getting his weapons repaired at the smithy. People wanted his attention, to be his friend, to train with him and it was a novelty that would never wear off, but it would come to an end.

Either he got too cocky and taken on more than he could handle or—the option which Finn preferred—the Flightmare was just too much for him to handle. Whichever it was, in one night he had gone from ‘Fearless Finn Hofferson’ to ‘Frozen Finn Hofferson.’ The people he thought were his friends had bolted out of his life faster than a wild boar fleeing from a hungry dragon. He was still the center of attention, but not in the way anyone would wish to be.

The rest of the Hofferson clan tried to be there for him, allowing him to take refuge in their homes on the days he was feeling particularly down, and the hecklers became too much to handle. His older brother—Binn—had offered to let him stay with his family as long as he wanted, but Finn couldn’t find it in himself to take Binn up on the offer. His brother just didn’t understand his plight; none of the Hoffersons could even imagine how he felt. How close he came from teetering over the cliff’s edge on one drunken night. No one living on Berk understood how he felt. Going from the very top and having everything he could ever imagine to it all being ripped away, leaving him with nothing.

Finn finally had enough when Mildew, the village pariah, had started mocking him and other villagers listened to the crotchety old man. That was when he knew it wasn’t going to get better. Not in the foreseeable future and only Odin knew how long it would last, which wasn't something he could put up with. So, he left.

Leaving the Hairy Hooligan Tribe and all the hecklers behind, Finn traveled further inland, away from the village and away from the tantalizing edge he teetered on numerous nights. The Hofferson searched for weeks, taking shelter in caves from time to time and sleeping under trees when there was no other choice until he found the perfect place for his new hut. The area he finally settled on was relatively secluded surrounded by a crescent-shaped rock formation, offering protection against the elements and, more importantly, the dragons.

Building himself a hut right up against the rocks had taken months due to many failures caused by erratic storms and a lack of materials. Finn was lucky one of those erratic storms triggered a rockslide and while it may have destroyed the frame of his house at the time, it also created a small cavern which he lived out of in the interim. Now, years later, his hut stood tall, and the small cave housed his winter provisions not even fifteen steps from his front door.

Most of the tribe probably thought he had died within the first few months, but he was a Viking through and through. Finn survived by hunting and gathering food. What he could not make for himself, his brother would bring him on one of his sporadic visits. Mostly though, he was on his own. Away from the shameful memories of the day which haunt him.

A day ten summers in the past and the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had become a different world than the one he left behind. Despite having not stepped foot into the village in all that time, he was up to date on current events. His hunting took him close enough to the village that Finn could make out from a distance the improvements of his once home. The subtle adjustments to the equipment coming out of the forge and the modified designs for the newly built wooden huts were just some of the things that changed.

As for what Finn couldn’t find out from simple observation, Binn’s wife apprised him of on her visits. She kept him current on the inner workings of the village. From reaffirming ties with the Berserkers to the current members of Stoick’s Council to who was lost in the most recent dragon attacks, she made sure he knew it all. She didn’t stop there either and the blond knew way more gossip than he cared to admit. He could have lived his whole life without knowing who Mildew currently fancied. Still, he heard it all from Camicazi Hofferson.

During the eighth year of his voluntary exile, Berk hit its hardest time in the village’s history. Dragon attacks became more frequent and the loss of the vast majority of their herds had affected the tribe’s population. Even the local wildlife had diminished to the point hunting became impractical and the Hairy Hooligan Tribe was as good as extinct. Then, a little less than one summer ago, everything changed.

Dragons had gone from being Berk’s worst enemies to being their greatest allies.

Stoick’s hiccup of a son had done the impossible; he had befriended and trained a Night Fury. Together, the unlikely duo—along with his niece and several other young Vikings—had taken on the Red Death, the Queen of Dragons. Even more unbelievable, they had won. It had been by the skin of their teeth and sheer dumb luck from what his niece had told him, but they had still managed to defeat the Red Death.

From then on, things had progressed rapidly. The chief appointed his son as Berk’s Head of their new Dragon Training Academy and the young teenager’s first task was educating his generation on how to work with dragons. From what both Binn and Camicazi told him at times, there were still many bumps along the way. A lot of which was caused by Mildew from his niece’s exciting tales.

Despite all the advancements Berk had undergone in the past summer, Finn had yet to return to the village. Astrid—his favorite little niece—tried her hardest to convince him to return less than a week after the Red Death’s demise. She proudly presented her Deadly Nadder, Stormfly—whom she had flown to his hut and nearly gotten attacked for her troubles—as proof the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had improved.

Astrid had argued if the tribe could change their views on dragons, going from killing them on sight to accepting them into their midst, then the tribe could change their views on him too. The older Hofferson knew otherwise. Even if he was wrong and he was welcomed back to the village with open arms, Finn wouldn’t be able to handle moving back. He knew his shame was still a freshly scabbed over wound and if he returned, the villagers would unknowingly—or gleefully, in some cases—rip said wound wide open; especially those against the change in dynamics between the tribe and dragons.

There would be some—Mildew for one—who would oppose the integration of dragons. They wouldn’t care about him as a person when they would undoubtedly use ‘Frozen Finn Hofferson’ as an example of why dragons needed to be killed on sight. Finn wasn’t about to let those naysayers have another go at him, he may be a Hofferson, but he wasn’t strong enough to deal with those type of attacks. Neither was he strong enough to deal with the root of his problems without trying to kill them himself and killing dragons wasn’t an option anymore.

So, he stayed in his little secluded hut protected by the rocks surrounding his home. Whereas Berk was growing into something new, something different, his life stayed pretty much the same over the past year. He still lived off the land and Binn continued to trade the furs and hides he accumulated for additional supplies he needed from the village. Granted, he did see an increase in his family visiting him, Astrid most of all with that dragon of hers reducing the three-day journey to a short flight.

No, Finn’s life took a drastic turn during the beginning of Devastating Winter.

While he didn’t kill dragons anymore at the insistence of his precious niece—and just how exactly was he supposed to say no to her?—Finn still had to hunt for his dinner. It was on one of his last hunting trips before the first of Devastating Winter’s superstorms could hit that not only his life would change, but Berk’s very fate. To Finn, it seemed just like another normal day tracking a deer, a Roe Deer from the appearance of the tracks in the snow, when a flock of multicolored small dragons the size of his forearm with an iguana-like body, two pairs of horns, and a barbed tipped tail came bursting out of the woods, flying erratically towards him.

Finn dropped his hunting bow and made a grab for the battle axe strapped to his back to defend himself from the attacking Terrible Terrors. Before he managed to yank the axe out of its holster, the relatively small dragons were upon him. The flock parted around his person as if he were just another tree in the forest, barely avoiding hitting him in their erratic attempt to flee.

A loud screech echoed through the forest sending the rest of the wildlife scattering. Out of the corner of his eyes, Finn could see the Roe Deer—as well as a few boars and one striking winter fox—he had been tracking darting around a tree and away from the predator. The screech was obviously a dragon’s cry, one Finn identified as a Changewing without a doubt. He had never seen one in person, not many had what with the species’ ability to camouflage themselves perfectly into their surrounding environment. He had, however, heard the dragons’ roars a time or two during voyages where the boat got a little too close to Changewing Island.

He would have left. Really, Finn would have left it at that, knowing Changewings not only stayed close to the rest of their pride but were also extremely aggressive in nature. Staying would be tempting Hel. If not for the loud yawn-like growl that followed soon after, the blond Viking wouldn’t currently be inching forward.

The noise was close to a Gronckle’s lazed roar, yet, at the same time, he knew it wasn’t a Gronckle. Whatever species of dragon the rumble belonged to, it sure wasn’t smart. Enraging a single Changewing was ill-advised at best. Enraging the whole pride? That was suicidal and going off of the even louder screech wrenching through the trees, that was exactly what was going to happen next.

The mere idea of a single dragon enraging a pride of Changewings was absurd. Even if it was only one Changewing now the rest would be arriving soon due to a second screech coming from further away, which only piqued Finn’s curiosity even more. Whatever the type of dragon it was, the owner of the yawn-like growl was facing down the Changewing and didn’t seem to be backing down. A dragon Finn was going to have a better look at if only to regale his niece with a tale of a brave dragon.

The thought of an impending battle between the two species didn’t deter him. Finn was already headed in the direction of the screeching and growls, one large hand drawing his battle axe, holding the weapon out protectively in front of him. It didn’t take long for him to find the dragons as two more Changewings flickered from invisible to visible as they flew across the sky and landed not far from his current hiding spot.

Another growl rent the air, this time, less like a growled yawn and more of a warning to the Changewings. It also happened to be close enough for Finn to find the snow-covered clearing housing the four-dragon standoff. Despite the Changewings camouflaging themselves perfectly into their surrounding, the hunter didn’t need to see the large dragons to know their current locations. Footprints appearing in the snow as they circled the shorter dragon—a Gronckle at first glance, but some other species entirely at a second glance—was a dead giveaway.

Skulking forward, the blond Viking managed to get a better glimpse of the dragon crouching close to the ground with its large body and not-so-large wings. Similar to a Gronckle but unlike the Gronckle, the species of dragon before him did not have a blunt nose. Rather, the dragon had a nose-horn currently flaring every few seconds as froglike pupils darted back and forth. The rapid eye movement made it nearly impossible to see the yellow color of the dragon’s eyes located on either side of the beast’s massive head, but Finn spotted the odd color immediately.

It was there the differences between the dragon before him and a typical Gronckle ended. Too many of the beast’s other traits resembled that of a Gronckle. From the clubbed tail to the distinctive armored scales—although a darker reddish-brown color—and teeth strong enough to crush solid rocks screamed Boulder-class dragon to Finn. Then there were the disproportional wings—although larger than a Gronckle’s—too small to accomplish flight that had the hunter certain it was some type of Boulder-class dragon. A deceiving trait as the dragon proved a moment later.

The Changewings, unseen to Finn, had surrounded the smaller dragon on all sides but the creature wasn’t as unaware as the blond to the predators’ locations. For in the next instant, the bulky dragon bounced into the air, gyrating as it hovered only a few feet above the snow. With three well-placed blasts of molten rock, three medium-size red dragons flickered into existence screeching due to their newly acquired injuries.

Cooling lava was hastily scraped out of elongated faces with forepaws. One of the Changewings couldn’t rid itself of the hardening rock substance fast enough and thrashed its head back and forth to rid itself of the lava. In doing so, the Changewing’s small leaf-like spined antennas whipped the closest blinded Changewing with the kneejerk reaction and drew blood. In turn, the second dragon released a stream of acid. Only the attack hit the third Changewing. Finn wasn’t surprised when the final Changewing retaliated in kind, lashing out with its tail and striking the first Changewing on the side of the head.

None of them were prepared for the second blast of lava to smash into their bodies. Combined with the friendly fire and the hardening rock slowly flaking off the Changewings’ faces, the pride took to the air. To the amazement of Finn, the Boulder-class dragon had the Mystery-class dragons retreating. If anything, he wouldn’t have bet on the smaller dragon surviving the encounter, let alone be the one shooting off one last lava blast, singeing the tail of the slowest Changewing. More impressive was the fact the unknown dragon species did all this while hovering only a few feet off the ground.

Finn normally would have left well enough alone and left the Boulder-class dragon to its own devices to get on with his own hunt. Yet, without the deafening roars of the dragons splitting the air, he could hear what sounded to be tormented moans. A noise no dragon could make. A noise that could only come from a human. More worryingly, the sound was coming from the middle of what was once the dragons’ battleground.

A second sweep of the area had dark eyes locking on one of the dragon’s eyes currently crouching low to the ground. Its clubbed tail rose high in the air in what appeared to be a threatening manner, yet no fangs were bared. In fact, the dragon seemed to be measuring him up. Eyes judging him and this time, Frozen Finn Hofferson refused to look away as he had done so many times in the past since his encounter with the Flightmare.

Ever so slowly, the clubbed tail lowered until it touched the ground. Only then did the dragon break his gaze and waddled backwards, revealing a lump covered in red-tinged snow. For a second, Finn couldn’t breathe, his axe falling from his hand as another whimper of pain came from the huddled ball of flesh and cloth. Involuntarily, he took a step forward, wanting to help, but stopped with the realization the dragon was only a mere foot away from the motionless body.

His eyes met those of the dragon’s for the second time and in the few moments their eyes locked, it felt like an understanding was formed between man and dragon. Finn took a step forward, then another and another without the Boulder-class dragon even twitching. It did, however, take a large yawn and lay down in the pinkish snow, watching him through half-mast eyes. The gesture seemed to be the dragon’s way of defusing the remaining tension in the air, making it all the more easy for the Viking to take the final few steps to the small figure.

“By Odin,” Finn breathed out, taking in the mauled appearance of the feeble body. There were three slashes across the stomach of the strange clothing soaked through with blood and melted snow. Congealed blood clung to the sickly white face of the boy who couldn’t have been over twelve winters old judging by his slight build and lanky frame.

In all honesty, Finn was surprised the child was alive. His lack of shoes and protective clothing should have had hypothermia already setting in, yet none of the boy’s limbs were blackened. Stranger yet, winter clung to the boy with a thin layer of frost, and it was only the wheezing puffs of air from the body that indicated the child was among the living. Finn was still fearful the boy might be on his way to Valhalla and reached out to check the child’s heartbeat. He was stopped in his tracks by a threatening growl from off to the side.

“I’m not going to hurt him. I’m trying to help,” the Viking found himself reasoning with the dragon. Finn didn’t think it would do much good and couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up into his hairline when the beast responded with a grunt after a moment of hesitation. But what had the hunter reverting to his detested nickname was when the dragon bumped its nose into his outstretched hand and Finn couldn’t do anything other than freeze. 

A minute later, the dragon drew back and waited. A rumble from the beast spurred Finn out of his frozen state and into a frenzy of motion. He didn’t want to spend any time dwelling on what just happened and focused on the boy instead of his frayed nerves. Laying one large hand on the boy’s forehead, Finn cringed at the sheer chill radiating from the alabaster skin.

“He’s as cold as ice,” Finn commented aloud, shivering himself as he pulled his hand away from the icy skin. “He needs to warm up or he won’t survive.”

The dragon grunted, hefting itself up to its feet in a cumbersome fashion. Eyes closing, the round body lurched forward before a large blob of red-hot lava splattered to the side of the boy. The snow evaporated instantaneously in a cloud of steam and the heat was already melting the layer of frost clinging to the child.

“Uh… that works… but he needs to be taken inside,” the blond faltered, unsettled by the beast’s ability to comprehend his words. Dragons were supposed to be ignorant beasts that only thought about their own survival. They weren’t supposed to be intelligent creatures able to understand the human tongue with the capacity to reason. It was what made killing them easy for the hunter because they were only mindless savage beasts.

Another grumble from the dragon had him raising an eyebrow, but the Viking took it as an affirmative. Slipping his arms underneath the boy’s legs and shoulders, Finn was mindful of the child’s stomach injuries as he hefted him up. His lips tugged down at the boy’s lack of weight only to morph into a straight line when a staff was unearthed. Even in his unconscious state, the child refused to release his grip on his only weapon and the Viking didn’t have the heart to take it away.

It was a bit of a hassle, walking through the rough terrain with the staff dragging on the ground every now and again but Finn made do. A little delicate maneuvering allowed the boy to keep his staff in hand while preventing his wounds from being jostled as the hunter trekked back to his hut. He made sure to keep the child close to his body, hoping to transfer some of his body heat to the frozen skin and it seemed to help. The ice had already started to drip away from brown locks of hair and his still body began to shiver.

A little more than halfway to his hut, the looming sky had broken, and a light powder began to drift down. It was around the same time when the white puffs of breath coming from the child became more predominant, easing some of Finn’s tension. As time went by, the flakes of snow became larger and larger as the boy’s breathing became more consistent and stronger. Through all this, the hunter had not failed to notice the dragon was following him and continued to follow him all the way to the valley that housed his hut.

Finn arrived at the small hut he called his own not a moment too soon. He barely managed to nudge the door open with his foot when the skies failed to hold back their devastating forces any longer. The winds quickly joined in on the chaos, tearing through the valley with the intense ferocity of an angry dragon howling in rage. The sheer force behind the winds shook the hut and Finn had barely enough time to brace his shoulder against the door frame before he was slammed by the squall. The hunter knew the signs for what they were; it was the first of the many snowstorms signaling Devastating Winter had truly begun.

Finn needed to get himself and the child inside before they were buried in snow. However, he made the mistake of looking back to see the Boulder-class dragon standing a few paces back and, by the gods, did the creature look pathetic surrounded up to its ankles in the snow. Its wings were drooped downwards, and its bottom jaw appeared to be trembling.

He didn’t know what made him do it. It could have been all his niece’s prodding and cajoling had finally sunk through his thick head. It could have been the gods’ divine intervention that made him do it. Or it could just have been the way the dragon looked so dejected and defeated that reminded him too much of himself. Whatever the reason, Finn found himself motioning the dragon towards the open door with his head.

“Well, come on then,” Finn grunted at the creature as he shifted the boy in his arms to get a better grip.

The dragon cocked its head to the side and looked between him and the door, not sure what to do. With a loud sigh, the hunter gave another gesture with his head and stared pointedly at the beast. The dragon took a moment to fully comprehend what he wanted but once it did, its eyes widened and its whole body perked up. Giving a soft hum the dragon waddled into the hut, barely fitting through the door, and proceeded to shake all of the snow clinging to its body off and onto the floor.

Finn paid the beast no mind, as he made a beeline to his bed and set the boy down. He quickly retraced his steps and closed the door. Making sure to barricade it closed to prevent the winds from blowing it open, the blond gave the dragon a wide breadth while he collected the few medical supplies he had from various locations. Placing the items next to the bed, Finn got to work.

Carefully, he pried the staff out of the boy’s frozen grasp and laid it to the side so as not to damage the weapon. Next Finn worked to remove the blood-stained fabric which turned out to be problematic. The material had adhered to the boy’s skin and peeling it off was reopening the wounds. In the end, the blond had to use his knife to cut the garments away to get to the injuries.

The wounds beneath the child’s clothing were shallower than Finn had anticipated but nonetheless serious. Alabaster skin—which had gained some color in the interim—was coated with blood and puckered along the gashes in his stomach. A bloody blackish ooze seeped out from parts of the wounds, unlike anything the Viking had ever encountered before. Yet, he knew the signs of an infection well enough, and the discoloration was written off as an effect of the extreme cold the boy had been subjected to. The wound itself was self-explanatory: claw marks.

“Covered in a Changewing’s acid no doubt,” Finn muttered to himself, studying the inflamed skin and the bloody blackish ooze coming out of the wounds. “We’ll have to clean that out first.”

Getting up, the Viking made his way to the door, grabbing the cauldron over the dying embers of his hearth as he walked by. The moment he stepped outside, the raging storm devoured the warmth Finn managed to gain from the little heat given off by the hearth and he was violently shivering within seconds. Snow had already built up at the door, accounting for the extra effort it had taken to open it, but it also made it easier to fill the cauldron with the frozen flakes needed. Finn quickly packed handfuls of snow into the pot and got back inside before he caught his own death.

Placing the cauldron over the flickering embers, Finn grabbed for some of the firewood he kept inside. Before he could place the gathered logs onto the dying coals, the dragon took it upon itself to cover the hearth with a layer of lava. The molten rock made an immediate difference to the chilled room, heating it up to the point Finn had to take off his fur overcoat. It also had the snow melted and the water boiling in record time.

“I can see why Binn allows Astrid to keep that Deadly Nadder of hers, you dragons can come in handy,” the blond said as he ladled out the boiling water into two smaller bowls and moved to the table. There he began to add different herbs and the occasional berry to one of the bowls, mixing the ingredients until he had a thick grey paste.

Taking both bowls over to the bed, Finn used the clean part of what was left of the child’s clothing and the warm water to clean his injuries. Once the blood and the blackish ooze were cleared away, the hunter applied a liberal amount of the grey paste to the wounds. The balm would neutralize the Changewing’s acid and speed up the boy’s healing. From there, it was up to the child if he survived or not.

It wouldn’t be until days later that the boy would show any signs of life. Not until well after the first weeklong snowstorm of Devastating Winter quelled its rage. During which time, Finn kept both him and the dragon sustained on the cured meat and fish he stowed away for the season. He attempted to keep the child’s strength up as well, feeding him a few spoonsful of broth a day which seemed to help.

Although, Finn had learned the hard way any more than a few spoonsful would irritate the boy’s stomach and result in a sickly mess. It also had the child’s wounds reopening, releasing more of the blackish ooze. Still, the brunet seemed to be getting better. No longer was he shivering uncontrollably and sweating through the woolen shirts Finn periodically changed him into after reapplying the healing balm and the infection was looking better. Better yet, color had returned to the boy’s skin and he didn’t look like an impending guest of Hel’s realm.

As for Finn himself, he was thankful the storm dwindled down to nothing before cabin fever set in. He immediately left the hut even before the last of the snowfall subsided, but he wasn’t the only one. The dragon—that he had reluctantly given his grudging respect to—had taken to the skies the moment Finn had forced open the snow-laden door. Where the thing went, Finn couldn’t have cared less, seeing as it ate most of his fish rations for Devastating Winter. He had more important things to do, like restocking his dwindling supplies.

It had taken him three days, but his hunting trips were successful. He managed to kill not one, but two deer and a few wild boars. Finn would have had another deer; sadly, it was lost to a flock of Terrible Terrors. Still, the hunter counted the multiple trips as an achievement since he now had enough meat to sustain him through Devastating Winter.

While his days were filled with hunting, Finn’s evenings were spent gutting, cleaning, and skinning the carcasses in between taking care of the child. The latter wasn’t too difficult since the boy hadn’t shown any signs of waking; which was probably why he was unprepared when he walked into his hut that evening. His mind, preoccupied with plans for a stew using some of the more perishable pieces of meat he'd accumulated, that he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings.

It was only due to battle-honed reflexes that the hunter caught the tumbling mass. The groan of pain from his arms had Finn almost dropping the mass before he realized it was the child he had been nursing back to health resting in the crook of his arm. The Viking’s muscles had gone rigid, preparing for a fight and—thankfully—didn’t allow him to let go of the boy.

Finn noticed that most of the color the child had regained in the last few days was gone and the tiny body was trembling in his arms. The boy’s breathing was coming out in short bursts and his small hand clasped around the Viking’s arm was weak at best. At the very least, the child had put his healing back a few days with his little jaunt and probably reopened some of his wounds.

“Whoa there, Laddie, where do you think you’re goin’?” Finn admonished despite being impressed at just how far the boy had gotten. The distance between the bed and the door was vast for someone injured; which the hunter knew from personal experience. Only Finn had a busted leg at the time while the child was banged up from head to toe, having been mauled by a pride of Changewings, and was suffering from a high fever due to the infection on top of that. In all honesty, the Viking was astonished the boy had made it as far as he did.

Still, he wished the child had stayed in bed.

“You’re in no shape to be movin’ about,” Finn warned only for the boy to go rigid. He should have taken that as a sign; he should have been ready; but the Viking hadn’t thought such a tiny body could do much damage, even less with such injuries. How wrong he had been. The unheeded warning earned him a sharp jab in the gut as the boy erupted in a frenzy of movements, squirming out of his slacked embrace, and tumbling towards the wall.

In what had to be an impossible move, the boy had grabbed the staff propped up near the door and twisted around in the next second, so his back hit the wall. His legs buckled once before collapsing in on himself and he slid down the wall, making himself as small as possible while holding the staff protectively between them. Yet the brunet would not look at him and his body began to shake. Finn was afraid that he was going to agitate his wounds—if he hadn’t already, which was very unlikely—and tried to reassure the child.

“Laddie, Laddie, calm down,” the Viking spoke, watching as fathomless amber eyes peered through messy bangs. The color had him taking a step back, never having seen such a hue before, and quite frankly, they unnerved him. Moreover, the amber eyes seemed to penetrate through his being to gaze upon his soul, which had a chill running down his spine. Those were the eyes only the oldest of Vikings had and they had no place on the child before him.

Gulping down his own uneasiness, Finn offered what he thought was a reassuring smile. “You’re safe here. The Changewings are gone.”

No sound escaped the boy as the two continued to stare at one another. Neither did the child give any indication he heard a single word Finn said. Fathomless amber eyes just gazed unwaveringly into the hunter’s own dark eyes for a moment longer before traveling downward to fixate on his axe instead. The tension in the boy’s body became even more apparent as his breathing sped up and he curled further into himself. Eyes glistened full of emotions and his grip on the staff became even tighter.

Shifting the axe had amber eyes following the weapon’s path and Finn came to the startling realization: the child saw him as a threat. How could he not? The boy had woken up in an unfamiliar place, injured and alone, with only his last memories for reference. Then he'd come bursting in carrying a weapon. Of course, the child was going to be wary and afraid.

Cursing silently to himself, Finn ever so slowly lowered the axe to the ground while keeping his eyes focused on the boy. He used his ears to discern when the metal hit the cobblestone and let go of the axe’s handle. During the whole ordeal, the child’s eyes never strayed from the weapon until it fell to the ground. The minute the axe was no longer in his hand, amber orbs darted up into his dark eyes and blinked as if he was seeing Finn for the first time.

The tense moment was interrupted by a grumble from the boy’s stomach, breaking the tension as the child ducked his head. The action was too normal in the otherwise unusual situation and Finn couldn’t help it. The roaring laughter which erupted from his lips could not be contained and he didn’t try to either. Finn didn’t know how long his laughing fit lasted, but when he was able to get himself under control to look back at the child, he found the boy gazing up at him with his head cocked to the side and his staff almost resting on the ground.

Seeing it as a positive sign, the hunter felt a grin spread across his face. “Hungry are we, Laddie? Fear not, for you’re in luck; I was just about to prepare a hearty stew.”

Still chuckling, Finn retrieved his axe from the floor and moseyed on over to the table. He dropped the weapon onto the first clear spot he found with a resounding clatter and untied the satchel situated on his hip. Pulling a bowl towards him and determining it was relatively clean, the hunter dumped the perishable meat he harvested into the bowl and set it aside.

His first order of business was to get the hearth going, seeing how it had been reduced to embers during his hunting trip. There were a few coals still glowing, yet they weren’t enough to cook on. After some fiddling, the blond finally got a fire going. Although—and Finn didn’t like to admit it—the dragon’s assistance would have gotten the job done in a fraction of the time.

Still, with the fire going, he began preparing the stew; filling the cauldron with snow, cutting the meat, and adding various ingredients into the mix. His eyes would occasionally wander over to the child as he worked. The boy hadn’t moved from his position, huddled near the door and Finn wasn’t sure what to do. He never had to deal with children apart from his niece and she was family. This was completely different and if Camicazi were here, she would be berating him for everything he had done wrong.

Deep in thought, Finn used a little too much force as he chopped through the liver, making the boy jerk up and drew dark eyes to the huddled form. Wide amber eyes were focused on the large cleaver and his staff was once again held up, ready to defend if the need arose. The next chop had the child jerking back into the wall, but the reaction wasn’t as severe since amber orbs were already fixated on the potential weapon. His hands only tightening around the staff on the third strike and by the fifth strike, the brunet didn’t even move.

After he was finished cutting up the meat, Finn got lost in making the stew, adding the fresh meat while reusing some old bones in hopes of adding a bit more flavor. He typically let the stew simmer for a while, if only to trick his mind into thinking the food tasted better than it did; an impossible feat, given that all the food on Berk was tasteless and the leading cause for tooth loss. This time though, once he was sure the meat was thoroughly cooked, Finn filled the cleanest wooden bowl and headed over to the boy.

The blond knew the frightened child wouldn’t take the food from him directly. Instead, the hunter set the stew in front of the brunet and backed away. Amber eyes darted between him and the bowl. Yet the boy refused to leave the safety of his easily defendable position even as his stomach gave another gut-wrenching growl and Finn wasn’t about to wait for the kid to eat. He had a full day himself and he was starving.

Making a bowl for himself, the blond sat down on one of the two chairs he owned and dug in. The food was bland and tasteless, but it was biting into a bone which had Finn cringing. He thought he removed all of them as he was ladling the stew into the bowls, but he apparently missed one. The hunter glanced over at the child’s serving, wondering if he should check the bowl for any bones only to freeze.

The brunet had crawled forward; the hand holding his staff braced on the ground, supporting his body but clutching the weapon just in case. His other hand was awkwardly grasping the bowl to his lips as the boy savagely gulped down the stew greedily. Finn couldn’t even tell if the child was bothering to chew the meat, only that he was eating too fast.

“Laddie,” Finn tried, but couldn’t find the right words. He was only able to force a bit of broth down the boy’s throat in the last few days and the hunter suspected it had been even longer since the child had a decent meal going by his lack of weight. However, the boy was scarfing down the stew like he hadn’t eaten in centuries which couldn’t be good for his stomach.

The Viking was soon proven correct when the brunet dropped the bowl and wrapped his arms around his middle. Finn was already reacting, dropping his own meal on the table, and grabbing one of the empty buckets at his feet. Shoving it under the child’s bowed head, the boy instinctively seized the bucket and emptied the contents of his stomach. Finn thumped his back throughout the whole ordeal and moved the bucket to the side once he was sure there wasn’t anything left for the child to throw up.

The brunet slumped back, almost falling asleep. Finn took that as a sign of the boy’s growing trust and despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile. The hunter set the bucket outside to dispose of later before gathering the child up in his arms and putting him back to bed. This time, Finn made sure to take the staff with him seeing the lengths the boy went to retrieve it and the Viking didn’t want a repeat performance.

Pulling the brown shirt up and removing the bandages, the Hofferson checked to see what damage the child had done to himself during the day’s adventure. None of the injuries had been ripped open—surprisingly—and overall, they looked relatively good. Still, he put another layer of the grey healing paste on before rewrapping the wounds with clean bandages. Finn would give it a few more days before the brunet should be moving about the house without the need for concern and a fortnight before he could leave the hut.

Satisfied with the redressed wounds, Finn went back to his meal before puttering around for the evening. Cleaning up his mess and polishing his axe to make sure the elements hadn’t done any damage while it had been lost in the snowstorm. Once finished, the Viking went to sleep on the small pallet he was using what with his bed being occupied. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but he would be glad when he got his bed back.

He was asleep in minutes, although, he was plagued by troubling dreams. Twisting and turning throughout the night until Finn bolted upright due to a deafening roar. Dark eyes darted around the room, landing on the door wildly banging open in the violent winds. Just beyond the threshold, the familiar Boulder-class dragon moved about indecisively as if to leave the valley before turning back towards the hut only to look off into the distance.

Due to his livelihood as a hunter, Finn took immediate notice of the trail of tracks in the snow leaving the valley. His head whipped towards the bed where the wounded child should have been, only he wasn’t there. Another roar brought Finn’s attention back to the dragon now waddling out of the valley, following the scuffled footprints in the snow. Swearing to the gods, the Viking shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed one of his newly finished tanned furs before running out of the hut.

Following the dragon and the staggered footprints accompanied by little holes in the snow, Finn found himself going in the opposite direction of the village. He knew he was going in the right direction when a terrifying scream pierced the silence of the night and echoed through the forest. It also had the effect of causing the hunter’s heart to freeze before hammering out of his chest. A second scream had Finn running past the dragon in the direction of the sound, praying he was not too late.

When the screams turned into cries and muffled sobs as the hunter closed in, he felt his heart shutter in relief that the boy wasn’t in danger. The relief was short-lived though, for when he broke through a thicket of saplings, the blond-haired man felt his heart shatter.

The boy had fallen to his knees not far into the clearing, snow building up on his hunched shoulders and intertwining with his dark hair. The lower half of his body and his crook were already mostly covered under the lightly falling flakes from the scattered clouds in the sky. His head was turned upwards, unnerving amber eyes affixed to the full moon peeking through the clouds. What was more, the child was speaking gibberish; yet, Finn didn’t need to understand the words, he knew a plea when he heard one.

Máni!” the brunet screamed at the moon, no longer speaking the strange language before collapsing in on himself. His shoulders heaving as the cries of the damned, the cries of someone who had lost everything escaped the small form.

Finn felt his heart go out to the boy and with a heavy sigh, the Viking dropped the black fur on top of heaving shoulders of the brunet, sealing his fate.

Chapter 4: Despondent Days of Devastating Winter

Notes:

First and foremost, the reviews had me smiling all day long and boosted my confidence in this story which was crushed upon watching the new episodes of Race to the Edge on Netflix. Just keep in mind, concerning future chapters, I wrote most of them (pretty much all of them now and I'm working on editing) before they even came out and was not influenced by them. So, thank you all who reviewed and made me feel better.

Secondly, I tend to use wikis and steal characters already created so I don't have to create my own. But I use them for my own purposes, so if they're not in character it is because I can't find how they usually behave and use them how I see fit. Finn is just one of those characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Finn once again found himself lugging the pale and shivering form of his unknown guest through the forest. As for his second houseguest—the one he thought he’d already gotten rid of—the Boulder-class dragon, took up the rear at a more relaxed pace. The trek back to his hut took longer than it should have. Every third or fourth step, the feverish boy would murmur out a string of gibberish through blue-tinted lips; none of which was in any language the Viking knew, save for the repeated plea of the moon god’s name.

The hunter briefly wondered if the boy was beseeching Máni to take him away, pleading for the lunar deity to house him in the heavens until the time of Ragnarök. Finn pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think about the implications that came with such a theory. Not when it took him back into his own memories of standing on that edge, waves roaring as they crashed into the cliffside and him a step away from joining the chaos below. Instead, he focused on getting back to his hut and out of the icy wind.

Curses fell from Finn’s lips when his hut came into view. He, inadvertently, left the door wide open in his haste to find the child and the high winds had dragged a large amount of slush through the threshold. The Viking almost slipped on a patch of thin ice that had formed in his doorway and would have ended up on the floor if it weren’t for the dragon behind him. Thankfully, the Boulder-class dragon caught him on his nose and pushed the blond back up onto steady feet.

“Uh, thanks,” Finn hesitated, unsure how to feel about the dragon. Logically he knew what he should do, throw the creature out and wash his hands of the beast. However, with one glance at the boy in his arms, the memory of the dragon standing over him, fiercely protecting the child from the pride of Changewings flooded his mind and Finn couldn’t find it in himself to get rid of the creature. With a sigh, he moved aside and gestured for the beast to go in. Once through, the hunter forced the door closed with a kick from his boot and made his way toward the back of the hut.

He shuffled through the dark room with no difficulty and placed the boy back in the cold furs of the bed. Finn had some trouble untangling the black fur from around the boy, but it was the sudden flinch from the unconscious child that halted Finn’s movements. The blond grimaced when his eyes adjusted to the dark and he noticed the shadowy patch of color slowly blooming through the brown shirt he had lent the child.

“Oh, Laddie,” Finn sighed with a shake of his head. Standing up, he fumbled his way back to the table, wishing he had left the window open to let in some of Máni’s light. Not that he wanted the moon’s rays in his home when the child was coveting the deity’s assistance. A sudden idea popped into his head, causing him to look over in the general direction of where he believed the dragon to be. “Um… Dragon? Could you… uh… light the fire?”

There was a gruff grumble and some scuffling. Finn cringed when he heard a few nerve-wracking clanking sounds. A moment later, a thick layer of lava covered the hearth; some of the half-burnt logs catching fire and bathing the room in the flickering firelight. The Boulder-class dragon, now fully visible, grumbled a bit more before waddling over to the base of the bed and plopping down as if to go to sleep. Though, the half-lidded eye lazily trained on the child indicated otherwise.

Now that his worktable was visible, Finn easily found the ingredients needed to make the herbal paste that worked best against infections. The Viking had noted in the last few days the paste worked near miracles on the boy's wounds. The injuries only had a faint discoloration to them and were nearly closed. After the night’s excursion however, the wounds had been reopened and a clear pus was seeping out of the infected area which was better than the black ooze.

Using the unsalvageable brown shirt, Finn mopped up the blood and pus before applying the herbal paste to the boy’s injuries. He finished dressing the wounds with strips of cloth from the cleanest portion of the ruined shirt. Once the child was redressed in an old shirt and covered with warm furs, the Viking found himself debating on what to do next. He couldn’t handle a repeat of what had transpired while he slept, yet his body was insisting on some rest after a day full of hunting.

A rumble from the dragon brought Finn’s attention back to the creature staring at him with an expecting look.

“What? He needs lookin’ after,” the Viking tiredly snapped. The beast grunted and gestured towards his makeshift bed with a pointed look. “Oh, and who’s goin’ to look after the Laddie while I sleep, you?

A grumble-like purr which could only be described as delight came from the creature as it nodded its head once in affirmation. Finn stared wide-eyed at the dragon, unsure how to proceed.

“You… Serious? You’re going to look after the boy? Wake me if there are any problems?” the blond questioned, running his fingers through the coarse hairs of his beard. Eyes traveled upward, searching for an answer from someone up there, only to return to the large beast on the floor when he came up empty-handed.

Again, the dragon grumbled, this time sounding almost exasperated and jerked its head towards the bed once more. The action was more violent and the force behind it had something popping in the beast’s neck.

“Fine. I'll go, but any problems and you and I will have words, ye hear?” the hunter vowed, his shoulders sagging under his exhaustion. The dragon gave a snort-like sigh but nodded its head. Finn didn’t have to worry though. He was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

Going to sleep hadn’t been a problem as the blond expected. Waking up had been. Still, the Viking managed to rouse when the dragon began to paw at the door. With a disgruntled moan, Finn pushed himself up and sluggishly made his way over to the beast. The door was stuck. A hearty tug had it flying open and a clump of snow came tumbling in from the wall of snow barring the doorframe.

The dragon didn’t appear to notice the obstruction blocking its exit. Nope, the beast yawned and walked straight into the snowdrift. Finn could only blink as water rolled off the dragon’s scales, the white powder melting from the heat radiating from the creature’s body. He stood there dazed until sunlight started to drift through the snow-tunnel. Shaking his head, the blond pushed the abnormal occurrence to the back of his mind in favor of his normal morning routine for the days of Devastating Winter.

It was only when he was finished making the morning meal did he realize his guest was awake and had been for some time judging from the boy’s appearance. The child was sitting up, knees pulled to his chest with arms draped protectively over them. His chin rested upon his arms while amber eyes tracked the hunter’s every move. The staff which the boy seemed overly fond of was lying in front of him, well within reach given a moment’s notice.

“Ye awake,” Finn spoke up, nodding his head once in greeting. He continued to go back and forth between the hearth and table, ladling the thin lumpy liquid into a bowl. Unnerving amber eyes followed his every move, his head tilting in a slight inclination when the blond started to ladle the gruel into a second bowl. The corner of Finn’s lips twitched upward at the child’s reaction which soon turned into a frown when his guest flinched the moment he got a little too close.

Instead, the Viking placed the bowl of food onto the chair next to the bed and took a few steps back, keeping an eye on the child the entire time. “How ye feeling, Laddie?”

There was a moment of silence before a silvery voice penetrated the stillness. “Fine.”

Finn hated to admit it, but he jerked a tad at the feeble voice when the boy actually answered. Stopping mid-step, he looked at the child with wide eyes and listlessly fell into the chair next to him. The hunter hadn’t been expecting an answer, given the boy’s demeanor, but he felt the need to fill the silence.

“Eh, that’s good,” the Viking replied, clearing his throat to buy him some time as he sought out something else to say. When he couldn’t think of a single thing, Finn shook his head and pulled his bowl closer. He ate the tasteless gruel slowly, giving him ample opportunity to study his unknown houseguest who had yet to touch his morning meal. The child was confusing, to say the least, and the blond wasn’t sure how to approach the boy or where to even start.

Finn didn’t take notice of his knee bouncing up and down throughout his meal. Dark eyes too focused on looking elsewhere only to drift back to stare at the child. Never did those amber orbs leave the blond and Finn felt himself fidgeting even more in spite of his efforts to control the impulse. Finally, the hunter couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence a minute longer.

“What do I call you, Laddie?” the words slipped out of the Viking’s mouth unwittingly.

The question pulled the boy from his mind causing amber eyes to lose their glazed-over look. A shiver went up Finn’s spine as those unsettling eyes focused on him. With the child’s full attention directed at him, the hunter got the feeling he was being undone, his very being laid out bare for this slip of a child to see everything.

There was a pause and then the silvery voice belonging to the boy drifted through the room again. “Jack… son… Jack-son Overland.”

Jackson. It was not a name he was familiar with. Vastly different than the normal names given to the children of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, but Finn already knew the boy wasn’t from the Barbaric Archipelago region. The child’s unique accent tipped him off immediately; it was one he had never heard before and it definitely stood out. Combined with the bizarre name, Jackson Overland, it was obvious the boy wasn’t from the archipelago.

“Jack-son,” Finn said, tripping over the unusual name, “Wanna tell me what happened out there?”

The brunet’s left hand instinctively moved to his stomach, while his right hand shot out for his crook. However, his grasp on the staff was lax as amber orbs became clouded while his eyes traveled to a far-off place only he could see. Flawless white teeth gnawed at his bottom lip and amber eyes diverted away from the hunter for the first time.

Finally, Jackson shrugged, unsuccessfully hiding the grimace caused by the action. “I… don’t know.”

Finn nodded his head, not knowing what else to do in this sort of situation. He had known many of grown men who stumbled upon a single Changewing, only to have the rest of the pride surround the Viking and cut their lives short for just being in the dragon’s vicinity. It wasn’t a cause for concern the boy couldn’t remember. Most people didn’t want to remember such an experience if they even survived and only a handful had.

“How old are you, Jackson?” the blond inquired, intrigued at how this slip of a child before him had survived when so many grown men hadn’t. Then again, Jackson did have a dragon to protect him, but there was something to be said about that too. Why had the Boulder-class dragon gone out of its way to protect Jackson in the first place?

Lips thinned before a heavy sigh escaped the small frame. “Fourteen.”

“You’re a hiccup!” Finn wheezed, eyes the size of plates and mouth hanging ajar. He had assumed, rather incorrectly, that the kid was ten, maybe twelve at the most. Jackson didn’t appear anywhere near the age of fourteen summers old as he claimed to be. The child might have been on the tall side, Finn would give him that, but there was no meat on those bones and he was only just starting to lose the sickly pale pallor of his skin. All of which made him look younger than he was.

“A what?” the boy inquired, his voice going an octave higher while both eyebrows disappeared behind disheveled dark brown locks. It was the first sign of emotion Jackson had shown other than fear since waking up and Finn would have laughed at the affronted look, except he was too stunned.

“Ah… a hiccup is—is ah… the runt of the litter,” Finn struggled through his botched clarification. He hated to admit it, but the reddening of his cheeks had nothing to do with the cold. To call a survivor of pride of Changewings a ‘hiccup’ felt debasing and wrong on so many levels.

Glancing at the boy out of the corner of his eye, one blond brow climbed high at the small wiry smile on Jackson’s face.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Jackson’s silvery voice agreed, the wiry smile growing into a full-blown grin. Amber eyes sparkled. Teeming with life changed the brunet’s whole appearance from a downtrodden hiccup to something else entirely. His body loosened, one leg uncoiling while the child’s left arm hooked around the knee still pulled to his chest and his free hand was lazily dancing across the wood of the staff. “What’s your name?”

The nonlinear question once again caught the hunter off-kilter and he found himself blinking rapidly, not being able to follow the sudden change in conversation.

“Finn Hofferson,” the Viking managed to answer.

“Finn… Hofferson,” Jackson slowly drew out the name, rubbing his chin with a contemplative expression on his face. Finn stiffened at the boy’s tone; it was one he knew well. It was the tone of voice people used when they were trying to recall a certain memory which was usually followed by his detested nickname. “Nope, sorry, never heard of you.”

The building tension was displaced by a wave of relief Finn didn’t even know was developing, yet he couldn’t help but return the sheepish smile currently on the brunet’s face. “That’s alright, Laddie. No one knows everyone.”

The hunter couldn’t be sure; however, he could have sworn Jackson snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘north.’ He wasn’t positive though and decided to let the matter drop.

“So, Finn, can you tell me where I am?” the teenager inquired, amber eyes wandering slowly around the small hut. They would momentarily stop to study one thing or another before moving on to the next item which caught the young brunet’s attention. Finn took notice that the boy was categorizing where all the weapons in the room were or anything that could be used against him.

“The Isle of Berk,” the hunter answered and found amber eyes were back to staring at him, brown eyebrows furrowed together, “located in the Barbaric Archipelago.”

“Oh,” was the lackluster response as amber orbs once again began to roam around the room. His fingers twitching as he shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed. Finally, Jackson’s shoulder slumped and his gaze fell to his staff. “Never heard of it.”

The admission surprised the Viking, but it shouldn’t have. He already pegged the boy as a foreigner. However, for Jackson not to know where he was, that was out of the ordinary. He should have known he was in the Barbaric Archipelago at the very least. Berk was one of the innermost islands. Any travelers would have had to stop at one of the other islands to restock supplies so the child should have known he was in the Barbaric Archipelago long before now.

There was also something else bothering Finn. “Where are your parents, Laddie?”

Jackson froze. There was no better word for it. He didn’t tense up, didn’t twitch, didn’t even breathe; the brunet just stopped moving. Finn’s concern grew but before he could make a move, the child sucked in a deep breath of air and let it out after a beat. He pulled his legs back up to his chest, arms wrapping them as he hid his face from view.

“They’re dead,” which was the last thing Jackson said for the rest of the day.


It was a week after Jackson had woken that the child had his first official meeting with the dragon he owed his life to. Finn had been making the short but treacherous trek to replenish his stores from his cave when he heard the characteristic yet slightly different roar of a Gronckle. Facing the sound, the hunter caught sight of the not-quite Gronckle who he hadn’t seen in the last seven days.

“Where have ye been?” Finn probed, knowing he would never receive an answer, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from wondering where the dragon went when it left. More so, he was dumbfounded by the creature’s tendency to return. Another mystery that would remain unsolved.

The beast let out a muffled grumble and didn’t bother waiting for an invitation before waddling towards the hut. Dark eyes rolled at the audacity of the dragon and Finn didn’t bother to hold back a sigh. His life sure wasn’t what it once been before the turn of the season. What was worse? The Viking couldn’t even say he minded.

Head shaking, Finn followed the creature. He didn’t get too far before a yelp of alarm was wrenched from his lips. His toes throbbed from the confines of his boot, the pain all the more unbearable for it. Curses fell freely from his lips as he glared daggers at the beast’s clubbed tail.

“What in the name of Odin?” the Viking sneered, vexed by the dragon’s abrupt stop. He was surprised; however, when the creature prodded the snow-covered ground, pulling something hefty up from beneath the freshly fallen powder. Turning back around, the object was dropped at Finn’s feet. It took a few moments to identify the mauled remains as a wild boar. “Ye went hunting?”

The dragon’s ear-wings flickered and nudged the carcass of the boar closer to Finn.

“Err… for me?” the blond tentatively asked.

Little ear-wings twitched upwards before the beast nodded. Raising an eyebrow, Finn set aside the small sack of frozen provisions and knelt to examine the fresh kill.

“It’s good,” the hunter ran a hand over scorched fur. “Burnt patches, a few punctures here and there, the pelt’s not salvageable. But doesn’t look like any of the organs were ruptured, so no worries about the meat being tainted. All in all, it’s a fine catch.”

Looking up, dark eyes met the beast’s blank stare. With another heavy sigh, the Viking heaved himself up and shouldered the boar. Finn grabbed the discarded provisions with his free hand and made his way home. The dragon just stood there, not moving as it watched the hunter’s departure. With each step Finn took, the creature’s little ear-wings drooped lower and lower.

“Well, come on then,” Finn called, holding the door open. The little ear-wings immediately perked up and a high-pitched growl rumbled from the dragon’s throat. To the hunter’s ears, it sounded like the beast was happy. Something he chose to ignore as the dragon waddled its way through the threshold.

Closing the door, Finn turned to see the child was where he left him. Sitting up in bed and staring out the opened window up at the half-moon in the dawning twilight. Jackson didn’t seem to register his return. His continued fascination with the moon disturbed the hunter. It wasn’t the first time such an incident had occurred and it was starting to frighten Finn.

More often than not, Jackson didn’t notice he was around until the Viking directly addressed the child, which only served to startle the boy. It was disconcerting, that level of lack of awareness, especially when those amber eyes were staring right at him yet not seeing him. Finn was concerned for the boy's wellbeing, particularly when the difference between life and death in the Barbaric Archipelago relied heavily on one's spatial awareness. Moreover, when there was a dragon in the vicinity, one should be on guard or—at the very least—take notice of said dragon.

“Looks like there’s going to be another storm tonight,” Finn commented, hoping to gain the boy’s attention and therefore, indirectly, direct Jackson’s attention towards the dragon. His hopes were crushed when the child remained transfixed by the moon.

“No, it’ll pass over. There’ll be another one tomorrow night though,” the teenager replied absentminded, amber eyes never leaving Máni’s silvery rays.

The blond gave Jackson a skeptical look and shook his head disbelievingly. There were a few times when his guest had said something that made absolutely no sense and he'd chose to disregard them. Finn had more important things to do than worry about than the nonsense the child sprouted off every now and again, like preserving the boar meat. Besides, he had lived all his life in Berk and knew what he was talking about. There would definitely be a storm in the night.

Finn was in the process of removing the heart when a distressed yelp followed by a loud thump startled him. Whirling around on the balls of his feet, dagger held at the ready, the Viking found Jackson on the floor, scrambling backwards towards the wall where his staff rested. In front of the child stood the dragon, just watching the boy, but making no other moves. Its head tilted to the side when Jackson grabbed his staff and held the weapon out protectively between him and the creature.

Blinking momentarily as he tried to figure out what the problem was, Finn began muttering a string of curses directed at himself. Of course, Jackson would react badly to the sight of a dragon. He had every right to be terrified after almost being killed by the very beasts. Having one in such a close proximity after an ordeal would have anyone reacting badly.

The sound of the dagger clattering to the table was drowned out by the hunter’s heavy footsteps. Shoving the dragon out of the way, Finn knelt in front of the child, effectively blocking the beast from view. However, that didn't seem to help any and the Viking knew from experience that laying a comforting hand on Jackson's shoulder would only make matters worse.

“Dragon,” the silvery voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s alright Laddie,” Finn tried to calm the boy down, yet unwavering amber eyes never strayed from his chest. They were fixated directly where the dragon should have been if the Viking wasn’t in the way. “The big lug isn’t going to hurt ye. He’s the one that saved you from those Changewings.”

“What?” amber eyes darted up to meet concerned dark orbs, his eyes wide and mouth slightly a gaped. Not that Finn could blame the boy, before last winter, he'd never heard of a dragon protecting a human either.

“Yeah, he scared a whole pride of Changewings away, to save you,” the hunter softly reassured Jackson. He was quite proud of himself when the brunet lowered his staff and proved Camicazi Hofferson's passing comment wrong. He could too handle a child—apparently, his niece didn't count—on his own. If he was still living in the village, he would have shown his brother’s wife he was just as capable of raising a child as she was.

“Changewings?” Jackson parroted, eyes growing wider as they darted to the side, attempting to get a better look at the dragon around the hunter.

“Err.” Okay, maybe he needed a little help with this whole parenting routine than he had first anticipated. He didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories than seeing the Boulder-class dragon already had but it looked like that was just what he’d done.

“What happened to me?” the boy asked breathlessly, eyes once again on Finn.

Sighing—something he seemed to be doing more of since finding Jackson—the blond settled down into a comfortable position and drew in a deep breath before beginning his tale. The recollection was by no means long and halfway through, he felt the dragon snuggling up behind him, leaning against his back. Finn couldn’t help but trail off at that point, effectively drawing out the climax of the tale and causing the teenager to lean forward in anticipation.

In reality, the pause was due to the realization he had knowingly left a dragon at his back and then, on top of that, proceeded to forget the beast was even there. The realization he had grown comfortable with the creature was disquieting. Growing comfortable enough to have the dragon at his back and then to forget about it? That was not like him.

Finn did not know how to react to the new development. Not then. So, he did what he normally would do and ignored the issue. Instead, he finished recounting the tale of how he first encountered Jackson and the Boulder-class dragon.

“He saved my life?” the brunet asked, straining to see the dragon around the blond without moving from his spot.

“Yeah,” Finn nodded his head, scooting to the side to keep the boy from reopening his wounds for the second time. The dragon, having felt the movement, lifted its head lazily and looked around. Seeing Jackson, the beast let out a large yawn before dropping its head on its paws to watch them through half-lidded eyes.

“Wait,” the child spoke up, sitting up straighter in alarm. The abrupt action had the hunter’s shoulders tensing while his fingers curled. Jackson’s sudden interjection set the Viking on edge and his blood racing. “Is he a boy or a girl?”

“I… ah… I…,” Finn faltered, not expecting such a question and didn’t have an answer. He had no clue what the gender of the dragon was, in his mind, he labeled the beast as an ‘it’ and gone on with his life. Even now, looking at the dragon, he couldn’t tell the gender because he never cared to learn how to distinguish between male and female. “I don’t know.”

The boy made a discouraged noise in the back of his throat and slumped in on himself. He laid one hand—the one with the staff—in his lap and used his free hand to rub his chin. Amber eyes stared at the dragon as his lips pulled back and brown eyebrows drew together. After a few moments of staring at the creature, Jackson started to twitch and then gave out an exasperated huff as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, are you a boy or a girl?” the child asked the dragon with a pout.

Finn felt an eyebrow raise into his hairline, not expecting such a reaction from the boy. He had spoken to the dragon on a few occasions—well more like ordering the dragon around—but he had never attempted to converse with it. His second eyebrow joined its pair when the creature shook its head and grumbled. The response had the brunet perking up, his slouch disappearing along with the crestfallen pout. In its place, a wide grin spread across the teenager’s lips.

“A girl?” Jackson hazarded a guess, almost vibrating with excitement. Both of the brunet’s hands held fast to the gnarled wood braced against the cobblestone floor, using it as a support to lean further toward the creature to the point Finn was afraid he was going to topple over.

A low-pitched growl followed by a disgruntled snort had Jackson sitting back. There was a frown on his face, but it didn’t make him look angry at all as Finn assumed the teenager intended. On the contrary, it made him look adorable, harmless even.

“That is a resounding no, you are not a girl,” the child reasoned as he tried to maintain his frown. Yet, his lips kept twitching upwards as his excitement outweighed his ire.

The Boulder-class dragon rumbled and laid his head down, closing his eyes. It seemed the beast was done with this exchange and was going to sleep.

“No need to be a grump about it,” Jackson grumbled right back before perking up. “I know! That should be your name, Grump. Unless you already have a name?” Turning around, amber eyes focused on the Viking. “Does he already have a name?”

Finn, who had been too busy watching the child have a conversation with the dragon like it was an everyday sort of thing, slowly shook his head disbelievingly. “No.”

“Well, do you like the name Grump? It’s going to be your name after all,” Jackson asked, turning his attention back towards the creature. The dragon opened one eye—snorting out a puff of smoke—before closing the eye again, which caused the boy to burst out laughing. It was the happiest Finn had seen the child and it suited him well. Just looking at him laughing, the natural expression on his face made the hunter think Jackson should never be the still, melancholy boy he had been since waking up. It just didn’t seem right.

The rest of the night was spent with Jackson chattering away, prodding the dragon, and trying to get a reaction out of him. He asked the creature a bunch of questions, always getting grunts in response which Jackson then struggled to interpret. When it was time to eat, the boy turned his attention on him since the dragon had pretended—and Finn knew the creature was pretending; the lazy beast—to fall asleep. Finn struggled to answer even half of the inquiries directed his way. Still, it was the liveliest night the Hofferson had in an awfully long time. One he immensely enjoyed.

In the end, it did not snow that night.

It did snow the next evening though.


Traversing through the snow to his winter storage became a daily routine, weather permitted. Keeping his guests and himself fed was draining on his stores, not that Jackson ate a lot. The boy usually drank the broth from his stew and, with enough cajoling from him, a piece or two of the meat and some vegetables. Anything heavier had Jackson’s stomach rebelling and heaving up what little he managed to get down. Even more frustrating, no matter how much Finn tried, he still hadn’t managed to get the child to eat two meals a day.

No, it wasn’t because of Jackson he was constantly trekking the short distance to the small cavern, but because of the dragon. The beast had drained all of his preserved cod and was working his way through the rest of Finn’s preserved fishes. It didn’t matter that the dragon would leave for extended periods of time, being away for days on end, because with one meal the beast could easily eat through all the fish stored in his stores if Finn gave him the opportunity. Then again, only a third of the hunter’s trips to his cave were to retrieve food, the other trips were to store additional supplies.

Upon returning from his outings, Grump—because Jackson insisted the beast needed a name—would bring back some type of wild game. Part of the time, the meat was tainted as a result of ruptured organs. Thus, Finn spent the majority of his free time salvaging everything possible. There were occasions when it would have been easier to throw the whole carcasses out for scavengers to find, but the hunter wasn’t about to entice any more dragons to his door.

No, Finn spent his days butchering wild game and preserving the meat before it could go bad. He planned to have Binn trade the surplus at the winter’s end for some much-needed tools from the blacksmith. With him spending what little time he had focusing on saving the meat. it meant he had less time to prepare the vast majority of furs and hides from the dragon’s kills before they began to rot. The hunter saw it as a waste but seeing how meat was a commodity with a higher value, it was a sacrifice he had to make.

Jackson had commandeered a buck’s hastily skinned hide one day and began to remove the flesh and fats still attached with a small dull blade. When Finn took notice, he hadn’t said anything for the sole reason it kept the boy occupied to the point he stayed in bed. Something which was harder than the Viking would ever admit. Finn just couldn’t stop cringing every time the blade scraped ineffectively at the lingering pieces of flesh. As time wore on and the brunet’s hold changed from one position to the next until he found the perfect grip, his skill became apparent.

No longer was the child’s hand shaky and unstable. His movements grew smooth and fluid with no hesitation as he separated lumps of flesh and fat from the hide which were then deposited into an empty stew bowl. The rather battered area where the brunet first began had been cut away and discarded as well. Whilst Jackson's familiarity with the blade grew and muscle memory worked in his favor, there was no hiding the fact the tool he was using wasn’t right for the job.

“That’s good work,” Finn commented, eyeing the effort it took the brunet to remove a particularly stubborn piece of fat from the buckskin. “Not the best.”

“I know,” the boy agreed, shifting his hold on the blade to use his nails to peel off the fat and flicked it into his bowl without looking up. “Could do better, but you work with what you’ve got.”

“Try this,” the Viking said, pulling a small dagger from his boot. Amber orbs contemplated the refined dagger and compared it to the crude, worn-down blade he held. Setting the blade aside, a small hand tentatively took the dagger from Finn—being careful not to touch the hunter—and hefted it up and down, assessing the weight. Dragging the dagger lightly over the next patch of fleshy bits, Jackson easily sliced off a large layer of flesh.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, the boy gave Finn a quick grin. “Thanks.”

“Ye welcome,” the blond replied, watching Jackson work for a while longer before returning to the carcass of the boar he was working on. This time, the dragon didn’t put any puncture marks in the animal. Instead, it tore off the creature’s two hind legs and the left front hoof was hanging on by a ligament. The fur was burnt to a crisp and wasn’t worth salvaging.

“You shouldn’t burn that,” the child spoke up, his nose scrunching up when he noticed Finn throwing some of the discarded meat and fur onto the fire.

“There’s no other use for it,” Finn explained, knowing the smell wasn’t pleasant, but it was the best option to dispose of the material during the middle of Devastating Winter. The meat would smell a great deal worse if left to rot and he wasn’t about to eat it either, the Viking didn’t want to get sick.

“Leave it outside, other creatures will find it useful,” Jackson said with a shrug of his shoulders, eyes never straying from his own work. “Waste not, want not. If you cannot use it, someone else can.”

“That’ll attract wild predators,” the Hofferson spoke from personal experience. During his first Devastating Winter on his own, Finn hadn’t secured his fresh kill and the smell had drawn a bear to his camp. The beast had devoured the deer and proceeded to ransack his partially constructed hut. The Viking had taken offense and engaged it with only his axe. Finn hadn’t been able to reclaim his lost deer, but he’d eaten bear meat for a fortnight.

“No, not if you do it right,” the child shook his head, almost nicking a finger due to the gesture. “Just put them in a rowan bowl with the runes for partnership and harvest carved into the wood. Then place the bowl in the middle of a stone circle outside the door. No predators will dare to come near an offering not meant for them.”

“And who would the offering be intended for?” Finn asked with a raised eyebrow, setting his knife aside once the cut along the boar’s belly was complete.

Never, in all his years of worship, had he heard of such a ritual and he knew quite a few. The Viking may not have been as of a devoted follower as some, but he was loyal to the Norse gods. Finn, like the rest of House Hofferson, favored Týr above all of the other gods and goddesses and made a special sacrifice to the God of Battle and Justice. However, he always offered up a number of sacrifices throughout the seasons, giving as much as he could afford to the various deities. 

“The Wyldfae,” Jackson said nonchalantly, waving the dagger around in a strange gesture that made no sense to the blond. Amber eyes glanced up and he must have caught the confused expression on the hunter’s face because he shook his head in defeat. “Just try it and see.”

“I’ll think about it,” Finn finally relented. Not being able to stand the doleful demeanor the child adopted which didn’t seem like it was going to be going away anytime soon.

It wasn’t his fault he had never heard of the Wyldfae before. He was a warrior, not a mystic; Finn knew the major gods and goddesses but not much else. Whatever these Wyldfae of Jackson’s were, they could’ve very well been summoned by the ritual described. The Viking just was wary. Invoking creatures he knew nothing of was akin to invoking misfortune and that was one thing Frozen Finn Hofferson didn’t need any more of.

The ritual was pushed to the back of his mind and the hunter went to work removing the organs of the boar via the incision. Every so often he would glance up to check on Jackson, always finding the young brunet hunched over his work which made something inside Finn twinge. On no occasion did he take notice of placing the tainted materials to the side instead of throwing them into the fire.

By the time evening rolled around and the hunter finished with the boar, Jackson had completely cleaned all the flesh, fat, and stray hairs from the hide. Finn had looked it over and praised the child for a job well done, but even that didn’t brighten the darkness surrounding the brunet. The Viking tried not to take notice as he rubbed an oak tanning solution on the hide, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the bowl of tainted meat on his way out the door.

If that particular bowl happened to be the only bowl made from rowan wood that he owned, he chose to ignore that as well and set off towards his cave stores. Once the boar meat was stowed in the very back to keep the smell concealed and the hide was laid out to cure, Finn could no longer disregard the rowan bowl. He gave in and searched the immediate area for some rocks which were placed in a circle and crude runes were drawn on the wood with a piece of discarded charcoal. The bowl was placed inside the irregular rock circle and left there overnight.

In the morning, there were no tracks near the bowl—save for his own—to indicate any predators had been about. All the same, the contents of the bowl were gone. Finn didn’t know what to think and ended up taking the bowl back inside, ignoring the knowing grin on Jackson’s face. Still, the next time he had scraps he needed to dispose of, they too ended up in the bowl which was placed outside in the evening. The results were the same.

Jackson’s skill at skinning hides and his knowledge of obscure rituals weren't the only skills or odd quirks the teenager displayed during Devastating Winter. As his wounds healed and the Viking allowed him to move about—though keeping the boy from going outside until he was fully healed, which was a task itself—the child had revealed he was capable of a few more talents.

One of which was making clothing. The brunet used one of Finn’s already finished deerskins and from it, fashioned a new pair of brown pants. The new article of clothing was remarkably similar to the pants he had been found in and the blond had burned in order to dispose of the blood. However, from the sheer amount of wear and tear, those pants should have been thrown out a long time ago in Finn’s opinion.

Jackson had somehow salvaged the cords used to keep the legs of his former pants from fraying further along with a few strips of material from his shirt. The latter of which he wrapped around the ankles of his new pants. Not that the new, pristine deerskin pants needed the bindings to keep them from fraying, but Finn suspected the child kept them for a little sense of familiarity. Once the pants were finished, the brunet proceeded to make a fitted shirt out of a piece of wool Finn was able to scrounge up. In the end, he wound up with a similar—although lacking in finesse as his original—shirt to the one he wore, but without the sleeve cuffs.

The child’s skills were nothing to worry about though; it was Jackson’s quirks that had Finn concerned. The hunter noticed on numerous occasions the boy would ignore what his body was telling him, not paying attention to the growling of his stomach or just plain forgetting to eat. Then there were the times he would be in the middle of working on his current project only to slump over fast asleep because he didn’t bother acknowledging the symptoms of fatigue. Those were only two of Jackson’s most concerning quirks.

The brunet never explained and Finn wasn’t about to prod the boy. There was a story there, he knew that much. However, the child deserved his privacy. It was the least the Hofferson could do seeing how Jackson gave him the same consideration, never questioning why Finn lived so far away from civilization all alone. Instead of demanding answers, the Viking forced Jackson to eat at least one meal per day and put the boy to bed when he fell asleep at the table.

For the first time in a long time, Devastating Winter did not seem so bad. Finn didn’t like to admit it, but he was rather partial to having Jackson and Grump around during what was usually his loneliest season. The time seemed to pass by much faster, it was less trying and—dare he say it?—but enjoyable as well. The regular pacing and shorter attention span the Viking experienced during Devastating Winter was starved off. He hadn’t experienced any extreme irritability from being stuck inside for days on end and not once did he contemplate heading out into the regular occurring raging superstorms for something to do. All of which could be contributed to his guests.

Notes:

Yes, I made Jack a fanboy in regards to dragons. Actually, he kind of made himself a fanboy because that part kind of wrote itself and stuck.

Chapter 5: A Jarring Realization

Notes:

I love you all, you've made me so happy with the reviews. You'll be happy to know, Hiccup comes in next chapter (he was supposed to come in this chapter; however, the chapter was getting really long and I wanted to break it up).

Also, regarding my usage of 'Jackson' vs. 'Jack': the answer isn't exactly simple and shall become relevant later, but for now, know 'Jackson' is used when it is the Vikings' POV and 'Jack' for Jack's POV.

Chapter Text

It was the end of Devastating Winter, or so Jack was informed, and his wounds were now only lines of pink skin. Best of all, Finn had finally—finally—relented and gave the brunet the go-ahead to travel outside. There were conditions, however, and the teenager had reluctantly agreed. Still, it got him out of the small confines of the hut which was all that mattered.

In all honesty, Jack hadn’t known how to cope with having an adult around at all times. While Finn wasn’t like the Bennett siblings’ mother—one of the few parental figures the Guardian of Fun was exposed to on a regular basis—who constantly hovered over her children from a distance as to not smother them, the blond man forced the teenager to stay in bed while his injuries—with actual red blood and not the opalescent ichor—healed. It didn’t stop there either. The man would also inflict food upon the Guardian at some point during the day and wouldn’t let up until he had eaten at least half. Something Jack didn’t think was necessary, but Finn was adamant about.

During these times, the eternal teenager longed to tell Finn he had spent over three hundred years taking care of himself and didn’t need help. There was a reason he hadn’t opened his mouth. The man definitely wouldn’t have believed him; not that Jack could blame him, seeing how the spirit was not a spirit anymore. He was mortal, which had the brunet mystified and, with Finn confining him to the bed, he had no way of figuring out how such a thing was possible. More importantly, he had no way of figuring out how to reverse it either.

The simple restrictions Finn had put on him were for his own benefit. Jack knew this logically. He'd even agreed with Emma when she’d confined Sophie to her bed for a few days after the little girl twisted her ankle rather badly and whined about it to him. Both Finn and Emma had the same ‘it was for their own good’ reasoning, but the boundaries felt binding to the free spirit. Not to mention, the Guardian felt awful for taking Finn’s bed and making the man wait on him made him feel awkward.

Not until recently did Jack have people to care what became of him, something he had to convince himself was true a number of times. Granted, he could do without Finn’s worrying if it meant being released from the hut sooner. Hence why the brunet readily agreed to the blond’s terms. They hadn’t seemed bad, at first.

The first stipulation was the immortal-turned-mortal couldn’t head out on his own. Easy enough, especially when he made an irrefutable argument that taking Grump with him constituted the not being alone. Secondly, he had to be back before nightfall, which was understandable if a little restrictive. However, Jack had fought tooth and nail over the last stipulation only to have Finn force those horrible creations on his feet.

Shoes.

Jack hadn’t worn shoes in all his spiritual life and wearing them again was pure torture. Yet, the man wouldn’t allow him into the snow without the overly large white fur-lined boots firmly secured to his feet. In the end, the eternal teenager had put the shoes on, not because he wouldn’t have been let outside—the mischievous brunet would have snuck out anyways if that were the case—but because he had watched Finn make the boots over the last few weeks. Jack couldn’t in good conscious not wear them after the man had spent all that time making the shoes just for him; not to mention, they were the first gift from a mortal he could remember receiving in over three hundred years.

He wouldn’t admit it, but the boots were nice. They reached a little bit above his ankles and when bound with the twine from his original outfit, they fit perfectly. The boots had the added bonus of keeping his feet nice and warm while preventing frostbite. Something he hadn’t had to worry about since before falling through the ice, but that was one of many things he had found out he had to deal with once more.

Being human was definitely a unique experience. An experience he was slowly having to relearn. Eating, sleeping, being seen was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to listing his problems. Jack was used to running around without worrying about such plebeian concerns, unlike the other Guardians. But now that he had to deal with it all, he couldn’t understand why the Guardians thought it was a reason for concern. Being tired for no other reason than to sleep seemed ineffective and being weak from the lack of food, even when his stomach constantly revolted at having anything inside of it was terrible.

That was something else, having not eaten anything substantial for longer than a human could live didn’t go without consequences. Yet, that didn’t even come close in comparison when compared to Jack’s exposure to the elements. As a being bearing the frost of winter, the cold never bothered him; he never had to deal with frostbite or hypothermia.

Jack Frost only had to worry about staying far away from the warmer regions. It affected him to some degree, but not to the degree he affected it. The spirit tended to disturb the weather patterns around him more than they disturbed him. Just passing through a warm climate had bitter consequences. A small cold front was all it took to piss off the more temperamental creatures—he hadn’t meant to bring a snowstorm with him on the Easter of `68—and the eternal teenager found traveling to warmer climates wasn’t worth the fiery confrontations. 

His light-weight blue hoodie had never been intended to keep him warm. Jack just liked wearing it. Yet, the thin piece of material did a better job at keeping the cold at bay than the large, heavy-duty fur he had woven around him as a makeshift cloak. There was no stopping the violent shivers from underneath the heavy layers, but Jack wasn’t about to head back to the warmth of Finn’s hut and continued forward.

Skidding down a trivial slope with his next step was frustrating. The spirit was accustomed to the winds flying him wherever he wanted to go. A habit he had formed for the sole reason walking never came close to the sheer exhilaration and fun he received from flying. It was even less fun on the account of the difficulty he had gaining traction due to the fiendish boots he was forced to wear.

Thankfully, Grump was there to catch him, supporting the brunet from behind. With little effort, the dragon assisted Jack up the slope, clawed feet easily finding purchase in the otherwise rocky terrain and when they approached the top, the creature propelled the brunet the rest of the way up the incline via a gentle headbutt.

“Thanks,” the teenager of over three hundred years grinned, casually patting the dragon on the head. However, the fanboy in Jack was anything but casual. Floored by the fact he had met an actual dragon in person would be a better description.

From what he vaguely remembered, Uther Pendragon had ordered death to all dragons long before his mother had been born. Only one Great Dragon had survived which hadn’t been an accident. No, the deranged king imprisoned the dragon under his castle for two decades before Merlin released the creature. There was one other Great Dragon. One Merlin hatched after the Great Purges, but she had turned against the Warlock. Siding with his enemies, she was forever labeled a Betrayer of Kin, her name struck from history.

Still, Grump didn’t match either of the Great Dragons’ descriptions. He was far from the massive golden dragon Merlin had freed from underneath a castle or the equally, if not a little smaller, white dragon the Warlock had hatched which meant only one thing. Grump was another dragon to survive Uther’s Purges and, according to Finn, there were countless other species around the archipelago.

When his mother taught him the history of Camelot, Jack always wondered why the dragons didn’t migrate to safer lands. His mother always emphasized the intelligence of magical creatures, so it never made sense to his younger self why they wouldn’t leave. The one time he'd voiced his question, his mother had just ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead, telling him he should never give up hope there were more dragons out there.

Grump was living proof he had been right all those years ago. However, the dragon’s existence also presented the brunet with more questions. All of them boiled down to how? How had these dragons stayed hidden so long? They had not only hidden themselves from humans but from other magical creatures too. How they had managed such a feat, Jack had no idea. Then again, he didn’t run into many friendly magical creatures willing to sit down and talk with him either.

Though he would like answers to his ever-expanding list of questions revolving around the dragons, those weren’t the answers he was currently seeking.   Jack had proof dragons inhabited the archipelago, he just didn’t know how he had gotten to the Barbaric Archipelago in the first place. Or where the Barbaric Archipelago was located for that matter. Both of which were numbers three and four on his priority list of questions he needed answers to. Numbers one and two being: why he was mortal and how did he change back?

“Slow down a little,” Jack shouted at the little orb of silvery-blue light bobbing up and down around the rocks further ahead. His shoulders sagged as he used his staff as a walking stick to maintain his balance while scaling the rocky terrain. A sigh of sorrow escaped his lips as he admitted, “I can’t fly.”

The silvery-blue orb flew towards him, circling his head a few times before stopping right in front of his nose. Amber eyes went cross-eyed as he took in the tiny pale form of the white-haired, blue-eyed Dewdrop Faerie. Her transparent dragonfly wings fluttered behind her rapidly, scattering silver dust all over the blue flower petals fashioned into a dress. A tiny little hand reached out, patting him on the nose while emitting a soft sympathetic chime.

“I’m fine Periwinkle, you just have a flight advantage, that’s all,” Jack reassured the Wyldfae with an obvious affiliation to winter. A soft jingle sound came from the Dewdrop Faerie as she buzzed around his head twice more before darting ahead once again. The brunet chuckled before following after the orb of light.

Jack was pleased Finn took his suggestion and left scraps of meat and other useless odds and ends in the rowan bowl. The blond man may have had an idea of what became of the items. But he was oblivious to the meaning behind the ritual itself. Yet, he never asked Jack. If he did, the brunet would have been happy to explain.

There was a reason for every aspect of the ritual. rowan trees were known as the Tree of Life and bowls made from the wood denoted the wisdom, courage, and protection associated with the tree. Wisdom from knowing the obscure ritual, the courage to go through with the ritual without knowing the consequences, and the protection guaranteed to both factions. The runes were self-explanatory, though since Finn wrote them onto the bowl instead of carving them into the wood indicated a more temporary basis than something permanent.

The partnership rune mark signaled to the Wyldfae that the occupants of the house were beseeching an alliance benefiting both sides. Whereas the harvest rune signified an intention to share the land’s gifts with the fae of the area. As for the circle, if any faerie crossed over and accepted the offering from the rowan bowl, they were consenting to a magical accord with the occupants of the home.

Thankfully, the offerings paid off and Periwinkle had been the brave little emissary to sneak into the hut to find out what the residents wanted from the Wyldfae in exchange for the gifts. Jack immediately took notice of the small faerie, having been waiting for one and with words well thought out, made an agreement with Periwinkle. After all, it was hazardous to one’s health to take from a fae—especially a Sidhe—without giving something of equal value in return. He'd given the faerie two balls of fluff she’d been eyeing on top of the offerings already taken and in return, she would guide him to the closest magical being.

Jack just hoped the extra bits of leather he used to bribe Periwinkle with would ensure she would lead him to someone other than a Sidhe. He did not want to have another run-in with the Sidhe Queens. Any of them. There was Titania, the Summer Queen, along with Mother Summer and the Summer Lady, and then there was him, a being able to wield winter, enough said there. The Queen Who Was of the Winter Court might have been okay since Mother Winter had given him a pat on the head and ushered him out of the Nevernever without saying a single word, but saying The Winter Court's Queen Who Is was not fond of him was an understatement. He had openly disrespected The Queen Who Is To Come, in front of the whole Winter Court and, in a roundabout way, insulted Mab. If there was one thing the Winter Queen could not stand, it was someone disrespecting her.

In Jack’s defense, Maeve had been acting weird. Blinking a lot as if there was something in her eyes and pressing against him. But what had Maeve furious was when she'd offered to show him her bedroom and he had politely declined. He didn’t see why the Winter Lady took offense. It was just a bedroom after all, what more was there to see other than some furniture and personal items? It was the first and last Winter Court Ball he had been invited to.

“Don’t fly so fast,” the brunet was forced to remind Periwinkle only a few minutes later when the white-haired fae darted around a tree and didn’t reappear. The Dewdrop Faerie came back in sight, flying around said tree rather impatiently. Amber eyes rolled, but he continued to hike up—and slip over—the ice-covered ground. Grump grumbled from where he hovered behind Jack, ready to catch him if he slid backwards or bite the overly large fur cloak-blanket the eternal teen donned to keep him from falling forward.

“She’s not very patient, is she?” Jack complained, going as fast as he was able. However, he had to admit to himself, if he could fly, he wouldn’t have been so frustrated with her and, moreover, himself.

An hour later and what was probably only a mile in travel, Jack almost toppled down the other side of a harsh incline of the ridge he’d been climbing and into the cove beneath. Grump, once again grabbed hold of the fur with his teeth and pulled the brunet back from the impending fall. Although, the dangerous vantage gave Jack the opportunity to catch a familiar sight down below in the cove.

“Old Man!” Jack called out, his heart pounding as a large grin split his face in two. The brunet didn’t think as he jumped from one rock formation to the next down into the cove. Sliding here and there, he caught himself on the rock ledges. Near the bottom of the incline, Jack had gained too much momentum and a rather dangerously sharp rock was right in his path. He wasn’t deterred. In fact, the brunet increased his speed, shoving his staff into the ground and effectively vaulting safely over the rock.

“Old Man!” the eternal teen shouted again, running towards the man near the lake. Periwinkle flew behind him, frantically trying to keep up or stop him, he couldn’t tell which. Neither did he care, because he knew those broad shoulders and huge frame with forearms nearly as large as his upper arms. The man’s thundercloud-colored hair was longer than the brunet remembered and draped over the eye socket which bared a vicious vertical scar. He was wearing furs and metal armor rather than a three-piece suit but still managed to look just as imposing. “Hey, Old Man!”

This time, the man must have heard him and turned towards Jack. His one icy blue eye landed on the eternal teenager and an eyebrow rose well into thundercloud-colored bangs. However, as he moved, he revealed another figure who’d previously gone unnoticed and should have been hard to miss. The second figure was almost nine feet tall, at the very least, and had a lean athletic build easily seen despite all the black armor he wore. Nonetheless, it was the great savagely pointed antlers affixed to his head, covered by shoulder-length, shaggy, light-brown, grizzly hair, and a pair of steady red eyes that showed him to be anything but human, unlike his companion.

Skidding to a stop a mere foot away from the duo, Grump yanked Jack back. A whine was wrenched from the dangerous dragon’s throat while Periwinkle landed on his shoulder, jerking on brown locks as a form of reprimand or in fright, both of which went unnoticed. Although, he did have the decency to blush, because while the man with hair the color of thunderclouds tolerated being called Old Man, Jack didn’t need to be told the leniency only extended to when they were together in private. Calling him such in front of someone else was beyond disrespectful, even by Jack Frost’s standards.

Grump growled and walked around the brunet, bumping his head against the teen’s legs causing them to buckle. However, Jack knew a chastising when he heard one, even if it was from a different species. Fiddling with his staff, the former spirit ran a hand through his brown hair and offered up a sheepish smile.

The blue-eyed man chuckled, returning Jack’s grin with a slight one of his own. “Do not worry about it, dragon, he means no harm.”

“You can understand him, Old Ma…um, I mean, Mr. Donar Vadderung, sir,” the brunet blinked a few times before cringing at his second faux pas and maybe going a little overboard in correcting his mistake. He was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet, hand tightening around his staff as eyes darted back and forth between the two. “Never mind that, I uh… kinda need your help.”

“Donar Vadderung?” the horned man repeated softly, almost as if he was tasting the words as he looked towards his companion with a quirked eyebrow. The one-eyed man, Donar Vadderung, just looked back at him and shook his head. It was almost as if they were communicating with each other through their eyes alone. He had seen The Big Four use the same technique before too, during battle or even in their everyday lives, but it wasn’t something he was privileged to, leaving him feeling like an outsider. The same feeling Jack was getting now.

“And who might you be?” Mr. Vadderung asked causing Jack’s stomach to drop. Then again, he really didn’t look anything like the spirit that constantly bugged the old man throughout the last three centuries. Jack had to keep reminding himself he was human, something which shouldn’t have been very hard. All of the limitations and human needs were constantly reminding him of his mortal form, yet he still managed to forget.

“Jackson Overland,” the brunet answered sullenly as his shoulders slumped only for them to become rigid just a few seconds later when he realized what he said. He hadn’t gone by Jackson Overland in over three hundred years and that was the second time he’d introduced himself as such. The eternal teenager just couldn’t understand how his subconscious already latched on to him being mortal, but his conscious mind couldn’t accept the changes. Maybe if he had his memories of his first life when he died, he would have gone through the same thing, but that was not important now. “But I’m Jack Frost.”

“And what do you want, Jackson Frost?” the unknown man asked, eyeing him up and down. Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his instincts went haywire. The hand on his crook reflexively tightened as his body reacted. He didn’t know this man, but he had the feeling Mr. Vadderung’s companion was dangerous.

Periwinkle, sensing his distress, chimed softly and patted him behind the ear while Grump leaned further into his side. The comfort provided by the two creatures along with a few deep breaths had him loosening his grip on his staff. A few more deep breaths allowed him to center himself while figuring out exactly how much he wanted to say with the unknown man present.

“I ran into a Dís,” Jack started, taking some glee from the horned man sucking in a large breath of air while Mr. Vadderung stifled a jerk, “and the next thing I know, I woke up human in this place. I don’t even know where I am or what happened.”

“A Dís?” the dark-haired man asked in disbelief, turning red eyes towards Mr. Vadderung. When the old man didn’t take his unwavering eyes off Jack, the horned man turned his attention back towards the teenager, finally taking a real interest in the brunet. Jack found that more disconcerting than when the man had been looking down at him in a condescending fashion. He felt like a piece of meat when the dark-haired figure circled him, eyeing him like some kind of specimen needing to be studied. The man’s movements were graceful and his presence held power, even though his facial features reminded the teenager of the hideous asymmetries of goblins.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed, trying to keep the horned figure in his vision but failing miserably. Periwinkle had pushed herself up against his neck, shivering slightly when the man was standing right behind the brunet which caught the attention of a red eye. “She said she was the Dís of a Hooligan Tribe and something about Berk.”

He tried to remember more of what the woman said, however, his time with the Dís had been short. What she’d said was confusing then and hard to remember now. The finer details were clouded over by the pain he was in immediately before and after. However, he would never forget the appearance of the Dís. Maybe when he got out of this place, he would look her up and introduce her to Pitch. Now, that would be an interesting meeting.

“In Berk?” Mr. Vadderung asked, his eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to make sense of the ex-spirit’s situation.

“I am almost positively sure,” Jack confirmed, even though he didn’t feel as such. He knew the Dís had mentioned Berk, add to it he had woken up on Berk, and the woman could have very well been on the isle. He just didn’t have solid proof.

“There is no Dís in Berk,” the taller man sneered, his lips curling as his interest in the teenager turned to disdain. Cold eyes narrowing as he came to stand by Mr. Vadderung, giving Jack a dismissive look.

“Well, that’s what she told me,” the brunet shot back defensively, gritting his teeth. He barely even flinched when the horned man took a step towards him and held his ground.

“What else did she tell you?” Mr. Vadderung spoke, putting an end to the growing tension between the two. “If she was, in fact, a Dís, and introduced herself as such, it means you were found worthy and she should have passed judgment on you.”

Thinking back, Jack had a vague but hazy recollection of something like that. “She said something similar to the effect. Uh… Berk was waiting for me and something like fate seeing it… No, that’s not quite right, it wasn’t fate, hmmm… some kind of goddess associated with color. Err… Golden Goddess…? No that’s not right either, a Grey Goddess…? uh-uh… The White Goddess… That was it! She said The White Goddess! I can’t remember the exact wording, but she definitely mentioned The White Goddess.”

Pausing from his rambling, Jack looked over to see the jerk’s mouth hanging open. He couldn’t keep the satisfied smirk from twitching its way onto his face. The figure may have been dangerous and powerful, but he also needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

“The White Goddess?” the man repeated, his voice heavy with skepticism as he failed to regain his composure. “She said The White Goddess?”

“I’m getting tired of being asked to repeat myself,” Jack muttered under his breath. The tiny angry chimes next to his ear told him he didn’t say it softly enough and Periwinkle scolded him by pulling on his earlobe. He got the feeling she wanted him to apologize too. Instead, he forwent the apology and spoke up louder for the other two beings to hear him. “As sure as I can be; what with being subjected to enormous quantities of pain and agony right before and after the whole ordeal, it’s a miracle I remember at all. So, excuse me if my memories are a little fuzzy.”

“The White Goddess, The Triple Goddess, what would she want with a puny little twig of a human like you?” the horned man snapped, waving his hands in a rough gesture to all of Jack. The brunet bristled and he would have snapped back, consequences be damned. Thankfully, Mr. Vadderung stepped in again and probably saved the ex-spirit from some very unpleasant consequences.

“That's enough, Lord Herne. If it is true, then it is The Triple Goddess’s wish and you should not question her,” the stockier man put his foot down. Turning his attention to Jack, he looked at the teenager with a critical eye. “Did the Dís give you anything?”

Shifting from foot to foot, Jack bit his bottom lip. “She did, but I… kinda lost it in the aftermath?”

“Give me your hand,” Lord Herne demanded, making a swipe for the brunet’s hand. Jack was quicker though and moved back, putting Grump between himself and the lord.

“What?” the eternal teenager asked, holding his staff in front of him protectively. “I don’t even know you, nor do I trust you. Keep your grimy hands off of me.”

Periwinkle flew off his shoulder and buzzed around him frantically. Amber eyes followed her every movement, barely keeping up with the pulsating orb of silvery blue light. The chimes and rings coming from her became louder and more hysterical with each pass.

“Calm down Little Wyldfae,” Mr. Vadderung spoke to the agitated faerie. Periwinkle quickly deflated and chimed softly which earned her a smile. He then turned his attention back to Jack. “Now, let me have a look at your hand.”

The old man own’s hand darted out and took the teenager’s. His lips thinned when he turned the smaller hand over so it was palm side up to see dirt and rocks embedded in the cuts he had received from his constant stumbles. With a weird swirling from Vadderung’s free hand, the dirt and pebbles disappeared. Another gesture and the blood on Jack’s hand crawled over his skin. Before wide amber eyes, the red life-giving liquid rearranged itself into the array the Dís had given him, complete with tiny little sigils and runes.

Mr. Vadderung swore, Jack wasn’t sure in what language it was, but the man was definitely swearing. Instinctively, he tried to yank his hand back and take a few steps away. His hand wouldn’t budge though; Mr. Vadderung’s hold was gentle but unrelenting.

“What? What is it?” Lord Herne asked. Whatever Mr. Vadderung had said, the lord understood and it had piqued his interest once more.

“He was not marked by The Triple Goddess,” came the breathless reply from the man doing an impressive imitation of a statue. His single blue eye fixed on the bloody array and it made Jack wish he could decipher the meaning even more now that it held Mr. Vadderung’s full attention.

“Ha! So, the little runt was lying!” the horned man crooned with a satisfied look on his face. Crossing his arms over his chest, the lord leaned against a tree and smirked in self-righteousness at being proven correct.

Jack would have bristled under the intense scrutiny. He would have shouted at Lord Herne and walked away, the answers he needed be damned. He would have looked elsewhere for his answers. He wasn’t given the chance.

“He was marked by magic.”

The statement was delivered bluntly; the repercussion wasn’t.

What did you say?!” Lord Herne roared as Periwinkle fell from the air, landing with barely any noise in the snow beneath her. Grump had become completely still save for his eyes darting back and forth between Mr. Vadderung and Jack. The dragon did step forward to keep himself between the horned man and the brunet when the lord made a move to see for himself.

“I was marked by magic?” Jack asked in an uncertain tone. Finally taking his hand back and examining the blood drying on his hand with narrowed eyes, yet he couldn’t see what the old man had.

From how the man intoned the word ‘magic,’ Mr. Vadderung was referring to the ambient power of Earth that supported all life. A natural magic with no real sentience; it was just there, a foundation for life to flourish. But, in the time of Camelot, the Magic of Earth was strong and prevalent, sentinel even. In modern times, the ambient power was near dormant with few exceptions. Above all, magic wasn’t known to intervene with the one exception: Merlin’s birth. Now, magic, apparently, interceded on his account too.

Looking up at Mr. Vadderung, the eternal teenager pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. “What does this mean for me exactly?”

The old man really looked at him before slowly reaching out and taking Jack’s hand once more, pointing at several parts of the array. “From the looks of the sigil here and the runes here and here, magic has deemed you important.”

“Important? How so?” the ex-spirit pushed, looking at the three marks Mr. Vadderung indicated. He thought that one of the runes might have been either for life or birth, but he wasn’t positive. The other two were a bunch of lines he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Magic has marked your very soul,” Mr. Vadderung explained as he let the teenager’s hand slip through his own. “For what reason? The rune mark does not say. But take heed, for magic has deemed you as the fulcrum to the end of all or the beginning of anew.”

“So, you’re saying magic needs me for something here and once whatever I’m needed for is done, then I’ll be able to return to normal, right?” Jack asked hopefully, finally coming to the crux of his problems.

“Normal?” Lord Herne raised an eyebrow, eyes dragging up and down the Guardian’s physique before sneering at what he found.

Amber eyes glared at the horned man, arms crossing over his chest. “I usually don’t look like this.”

“That is the most likely case,” the old man broke up the impending quarrel, a strained expression crossing his face but it dissolved so fast the ex-spirit wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not. “However, I cannot be completely sure, but it would make the most sense. The only reason I can think for magic to change you into your current form would be it was necessary for the quest at hand.”

Jack nodded, the logic behind Mr. Vadderung's reasoning made sense. Still, he wondered how such a little array could tell the man so much and what the rest of the bloody symbols meant. There were about ten more sigils and runes, each with their own meanings to contribute to the array as a whole. Before he had a chance to ask about the other symbols, the blood began to rapidly dry and flake away, leaving behind unblemished skin.

Sighing, Jack looked up with a half-hearted smile on his face. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Vadderung, you’re help was invaluable.”

A snort from Lord Herne drew the duo’s attention towards the horned figure being held at bay by Grump. Dark eyes narrowed on Jack’s smaller form as his sneer became even more pronounced. With another snort, Lord Herne dismissed the ex-spirit and turned his attention to the other lord.

“If that is all, I shall be going; all this excitement has gotten my blood boiling. I am going on with our hunt, are you going to be joining me or not, Mr. Vadderung?” the horned lord asked, his words laced with sarcasm and mockery.

“Forgive me, Lord Herne, but I think I shall pass,” Mr. Vadderung stated, his whole body radiating the displeasure his elegant words neglected. “I shall stay here to continue my conversation with Jackson.”

“Fine,” the horned man spat, dark eyes sweeping over Jack one last time before landing on Periwinkle. “Come, little Dewdrop Faerie, you and I shall hunt together. By your light, we shall draw out the creatures I wish to slaughter. I might even give you a trophy to flaunt to the rest of the Wyldfae as you regale all of Pixie Hollow with the deeds of the Hunt. Maybe then, you and some of them will have the good sense to affiliate yourselves with Summer rather than Winter.”

Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit he tuned out most of the lord’s words, waiting impatiently for the horned figure to leave so he could freely talk with the old man without censoring himself. Yet the moment Pixie Hollow was mentioned, an icy feeling gripped a hold of the ex-spirit and plunged him into darkness. His ears filled with a ringing that had nothing to do with Periwinkle's poorly concealed panic.

“Pixie Hollow?” Jack barely managed to whisper out the words as a forbidding feeling took root in his stomach and began to fester as he stared at the little Wyldfae. The brunet forced his lips to move, forced himself to ask the question he was dreading the answer to. “You live in Pixie Hollow?”

Periwinkle held her palms up and shrugged her shoulders as she let out a string of soft jingling sounds. Fluttering up and down while encased in an orb of light did nothing to hide the tiny Dewdrop Faerie’s nod. That was when Jack felt his stomach drop.

“Oh…no… oh no… oh no, no, no, no, no, No! This cannot be possible. That can’t be right!” the ex-spirit exclaimed, looking around frantically before gripping his head with both hands. His staff was an uncomfortable pressure against his skull which only intensified as his grip tightened and he sank down into a crouch, rocking back and forth.

Seeing nothing else interesting about the mystifying boy currently having a breakdown, Lord Herne motioned with his hand for the little Dewdrop Faerie to accompany him. Periwinkle hesitated for a moment, glancing longingly at Jack before reluctantly flying over to the red-eyed lord. Cupping the fae in his hand, the horned figure stepped back into an unnatural shimmering light before disappearing.

Mr. Vadderung glared at the spot where his friend vanished, but it didn’t last long. His attention was soon drawn back to the brunet and without his consent, his legs carried him over to the boy's side. Crouching next to the brunet, he gently laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

Despite the physical touch, the ex-spirit did not respond at first. It was only when Grump grunted and knocked the brunet over with a light nudge that he was brought out of his spiraling thoughts. Only then did wide disbelieving amber eyes look up into the single blue eye.

“What is it?” Mr. Vadderung asked, his words soft and full of concern.

Latching onto the arm currently resting on his shoulder, Jack pleaded with the man. “Tell me, before today, have you ever met me? Please tell me you’ve met me before this.”

There was a small moment of hope when Mr. Vadderung didn’t move. Then, very slowly, he shook his head negatively.

He hadn’t met Jack Frost before.

‘The White Goddess has seen it once and she shall see it again,’ the words of the Dís sprang forth with such clarity it had him shivering as the meaning hit him full force. The ex-spirit grasp became nonexistent as his hand slipped from the man’s arm before him and fell listlessly into his lap.

“I’ve done a Father Time.”

“A what?” Mr. Vadderung asked in English, forcing the brunet to realize he’d slipped into his native language and hadn’t spoken in Old Norse. Although, would it simply be called Norse since he was in the past where Old Norse was current?

“I’ve traveled back in time,” Jack bemoaned, letting his chin fall to his chest. Not only had he been turned mortal in order to fulfill an unknown task at magic's behest, but he had also been sent into the past to do so. It explained so many things, from Mr. Vadderung’s attire to the existence of dragons; all could be explained away by him being in the past. Just how far back in time, he didn’t know, but he guessed it was quite some time seeing how dragons roamed the land.

“How do you know?” Mr. Vadderung asked, pulling the brunet out of his own head and back into the present.

A present which was in Jack’s past while the future would be his present, or would it be his past too? This was going to get really confusing, really fast. Jack already had a headache just thinking about it.

“Other than Pixie Hollow no longer existing and the fae—no matter their affiliation—mostly living in the Nevernever?” Jack asked bitterly. Thundercloud-colored eyebrows rose into hair of the same color, an action that went unnoticed by the brunet currently curling into himself. “You and I’ve known each other for a long time. I usually call you Old Man Winter and you’re the one that taught me how to speak Old Norse—err… Norse—and allowed me to bother you endlessly during my first century as a spirit.”

Chapter 6: Searching for His Way

Notes:

I have seemingly lost Wednesday…I don't know where it has gone. Apparently, I have had two Tuesdays this week.

In other reviews, referring to purple-tinted eyes back in Chapter 2: blue eyes + red light = purple-appearing eyes and that's all I'm going to be saying about that.

Also, tricksterach, you get so many kudos for being the first to point out the BBC Merlin allusions going on. You made my day with that review pointing out I was referring to Uther from the series.

Chapter Text

Jack didn’t know how long he sat there in the clearing, but it was long enough for Grump to create a small puddle of molten rock to keep the cold at bay. He hadn’t realized how cold it was until the heat had brought the feeling back to his appendages. Even then he didn’t move, just continued to stare at his unblemished hand which had his future—past—previously written on it with blood.

Jack Frost was in the past. Actually, Jackson Overland was in the past while he didn’t even know where Jack Frost was. Jack Frost had fallen in battle and a Dís had passed judgment on Jackson Overland. Where that left Jack Frost was in limbo, because technically he wasn’t dead, but Jack Frost technically hadn’t been born yet either. It was no wonder Manny hadn’t heard his pleas, he was probably still asleep or recruiting the Guardians to fight against Pitch depending on the timeframe.

Not wanting to dwell on his current chaotic life, Jack dropped his hand into his lap and turned his attention to the imposing figure sitting on a log across the lava puddle. Now that he was really looking at the man he knew as Mr. Vadderung, the ex-spirit could see the noticeable changes time had rot. His thundercloud-colored hair was darker than in the future, with more color and less white. Almost like a dark storm cloud ready to cut loose rather than one after the rain had passed. The vicious vertical scar over his eye socket was more pronounced and prominent. Minor changes he'd failed to notice which made all the difference.

“I noticed you seemed to understand Grump,” Jack broke the silence, catching Mr. Vadderung’s attention. “Can you really understand what dragons are saying?”

A faint smile crossed the old man’s face before shaking his head. “To some extent, I can understand dragons. Being around them for so long, I’ve learned a bit of their language, but by no means am I fluent in Dragonese.”

“Well, it’s better than I can do,” the brunet replied sullenly, looking over to his left where Grump was napping and missing the mystified look on the tall man’s face. “I’ve just been able to ask Grump yes or no questions, but that is as far as my understanding has gotten me. Anything more and I have no idea.”

“That is not an accomplishment to disregard,” Mr. Vadderung said, not allowing the brunet to wave off his achievement. “Gaining the trust of a dragon is a difficult task, them answering you, even more so.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Jack ducked his head, amber eyes peering through locks of brown. “I didn’t do anything to gain Grump’s trust, he’s the one who saved me from what I’ve heard, and I was kinda wanting to know why.”

“He saved you?” Mr. Vadderung asked looking between the dragon and him.

“Finn said he found Grump protecting me from some Changewings,” the ex-spirit answered with a shrug. “Never met him before that, so I can’t understand why he would want to save me. Not that I’m not grateful, because I am.”

“That is rather strange, what have you to say for yourself, dragon?” the old man asked, turning his icy blue eye towards the dragon.

Grump opened a single eye but didn’t bother lifting his head. He looked around before his eye settled on Mr. Vadderung with a glare. The dragon yawned but proceeded to answer the old man in a series of high-pitched growls and low-pitched grunts. The tall man nodded his head the whole way through the explanation, making the appropriate hums and haws in all the right places. At the end, he wore a perplexed expression on his face.

During the whole exchange, Jack kept leaning forward and the only reason he hadn’t fallen on his face was thanks to his hold on his staff which was planted firmly in the ground. “What? What did he say?”

“As I told you before, I am not fluent in Dragonese, but from what I can tell, the head of the dragon's herd found you injured and unconscious,” Mr. Vadderung translated, his tone even but the brunet could tell he was impressed. “There was something about you that the head dragon found intriguing, though, what that is, Grump—as you call him—does not know. He was tasked with returning you to your own kind to be healed by the head dragon and intends to stay with you until he feels you are healed fully.”

Amber eyes grew wider and wider with each passing word, darting over to the dragon sitting by his side. Jack almost fell forward when his grasp on the gnarled wood loosened, but he quickly corrected himself and rocked back in the nick of time. To know both Grump and Grump’s leader took it upon themselves to save him without even knowing him for no other reason than he had been hurt and in need of help was humbling. Gulping back his building emotions, Jack reached out and hugged the dragon around his thick neck.

“Thank you. You’ve gone above and beyond to help me and I… thank you,” the ex-spirit struggled to express his gratitude, his voice choking up as he leaned back and gave Grump one final scratch underneath his ear-wing. Turning watery amber eyes towards Mr. Vadderung, the brunet gave him a weak smile. “And thank you for all your help too. I must have seemed like a deranged mortal, running to you and yelling like that, but you helped me anyways, though we’ve technically never met.”

The tall man let out a small chuckle and shook his head. “It was definitely a change from the normal; a breath of fresh air to the monotony that has settled over these lands.”

Jack grinned weakly, wiping away the moisture in his eyes with the back of his hand. “In the future, you will say something very similar to me. Calling me a cold refreshing breath of fresh air whenever I come by for a visit.”

“The future, huh? Why don’t you tell me more?” the man with storm clouds for hair inquired; breaking off a limb from the log he was sitting on and throwing it onto the cooling lava. The piece of wood, bigger than the brunet’s neck, caught fire and bathed them in a soft glow.

Jack twitched, refusing to meet the older man’s eye as he picked up and threw nearby twigs into the hungry flames. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Father Time always spoke of the importance of not interfering with the course of history while on his trips. I could very well change history and thus my future.”

“This Father Time of yours sounds like a smart man,” Mr. Vadderung commented after a moment of silence. “But magic sent you here for a reason. You will have to interact with this time to complete your duty before magic will release you.”

The ex-spirit stalled at that and looked up from the ground. The man had a point, magic had sent him here and even the Dís had said something to the effect of seeing it happen again. So, maybe, whatever he did in this time period wouldn’t affect the future because he was already a part of the past. Meaning if he didn’t interact with this time, he would be the one to change his own future.

“I guess you’re right,” the brunet said slowly, still trying to work his mind around the whole paradox. Jack really disliked time travel. It made his head hurt.

“If you feel more comfortable; how about we remain on the subject of you and me? Does that sound reasonable?” Mr. Vadderung asked, waiting patiently as the brunet mulled it over before receiving a tentative nod in answer. “I taught you Norse you say, what more did I teach you?”

“Just a few little things here and there,” Jack evaded, figuring telling the Winter King he had taught a new spirit how to control his wintery touch might be pushing the timeline’s elasticity a little too much. “Mostly I ranted to you about the unfairness in the world and in return, I listened to your stories about your sons when you felt like sharing. You were especially fond of telling me the tales of the Vikings and your various descendants. My favorites are those of Loki and Váli’s descendants. Although, in the last few decades, you’ve become rather busy with running Monoc Securities, and I haven’t seen much of you.”

The ex-spirit brought the tale to an abrupt close, seeing the tiny shift in Mr. Vadderung’s posture which betrayed how ill at ease he was. Jack hadn’t meant to make the tall man feel awkward, but his despair at being neglected by one of the few people who acknowledged his existence must have colored his words.

“I am sorry,” the tall man awkwardly apologized for something he hadn’t even done yet. “I do not think I meant to push you out. You seem like a good kid.”

“It’s okay, at least you were there for me when I needed it the most,” Jack waved him off with a smile, showing there were no hard feelings.

Vadderung returned the smile with only a slight trace of lingering uneasiness. “How about you tell me more about yourself, Jackson Overland or is it Jack Frost?”

“Both,” the ex-spirit replied; although, he was more Jack Frost than Jackson Overland. With only a handful of his mortal memories to piece together who he’d been as a human, Jack Frost’s life experience made up the majority of who he was. “But in the future, you get to know Jack Frost. How about I tell you about Jackson Overland?”

“I would like that.”

The brunet couldn’t keep the giant smile at bay; in the future, he'd been eager to share the handful of mortal memories he'd regained with the Winter King. However, the last few times he'd stepped foot in any of the branch offices of Monoc Securities, he'd been turned away by the various Valkyries the old man employed. Being able to tell even a past version of Mr. Vadderung would more than make up for the hostile receptionists.

“Well, my Mom was a Druid from Great Britain. Most of the settlers were wary of her, thinking she was some kind of witch who practiced Black Magic because they were idiots who didn’t know any better. My father wasn’t around much, I think he died at some point, but I don't remember much about him. I did any and all odd jobs around the village to earn a living to provide for my sister and Mom. If anyone had a job they didn’t want to do or didn’t have time to do, they’d pay me a couple of coins and I’d do it for them. I actually learned a lot that way, but I was never able to master any of the trades. My sister used to call me Jack of All Trades, King of None…”

The ex-spirit and the Winter King spent hours in the little cove. Jack put at ease by the sense of familiarity and security he'd been missing since waking up in an unknown era, on a foreign island, completely powerless. It was almost like he was back in his own time, him prattling on about nothing in particular and Old Man Winter listening, asking a few questions here and there but just letting Jack bask in the presence of someone who acknowledged his existence. It was nice for the time and the eternal teenager wished it would last forever.


Life went on for Jack as he struggled to figure out what exactly he was supposed to be doing for magic, yet he was no closer to the answer. The superstorms of Devastating Winter were at an end and the season was in the process of changing. In the last few days, the ex-spirit had finished a few projects for Finn. He made a few new articles of clothing for the blond out of the finished furs and leathers. When he was done with Finn’s clothing, Jack created a few accessories for himself with the scraps.

After skinning his hands in search for answers, the need for protection became apparent. Some white cloth and spare thread and Jack had a pair of arm warmers to wrap around his hands and arms, secured in place with brown strips of leather. Not only would they keep his hands warm but protect his palms against injury.

Other than helping around the hut, the brunet spent his time exploring outside, when weather and Finn permitted. The cove he had met Mr. Vadderung in was one of his favorite places to go, the small lake in the center had an abundance of freshwater fish and if he was lucky, he could catch enough for a decent meal. However, with it being so far away, the trip couldn’t be made often because of the snowstorms. On those days, Jack would go to the sea cliff he found not too far from Finn’s hut. Today though, he felt the need to stretch his legs and the longer trip to the cove was in order.

“Hey Finn,” the brunet called out as he pulled the black bearskin blanket around his shoulders and checked to make sure he had everything he needed on him. “I’m going to the cove to do some fishing. We’re almost out of fish and Grump should be back soon. I’d imagine he'd really appreciate some fresh fish when he returns.”

“Alright,” Finn said, throwing Jack’s boots at him before going back to sorting through the various furs, leathers, clothing, and accessories they had accumulated during Devastating Winter. “But don’t be out too long, that niece of mine I’ve been telling you about is supposed to arrive either today or tomorrow and I’d like you to meet her. It’s no good for a boy your age to have only an old man for company.”

The ex-spirit grimaced but grabbed the shoes and hopped up onto the table to pull on the boots. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

“What was that?” Finn asked, glancing up. The brunet froze and looked up from tightening the cords on his left boot, realizing he had spoken out loud again.

“Nothing,” Jack mumbled, ducking his head and busying himself with his other shoe. He really needed to stop speaking out loud now there were others around who could hear his inane ramblings. “I won’t be too long, but I can’t promise anything.”

Jumping off the table, Jack readjusted the fur pelt around his shoulders once again and made a mental note to make a cloak for himself soon. He'd put it off, thinking he wouldn’t be in the past all too long. However, being mortal and exposed to the icy cold grip of winter, the ex-spirit needed to reevaluate his plans. He didn’t want to resign himself to staying longer than he absolutely had to; but if he was going to be out and about regularly, he really needed a cloak of his own.

Grabbing his staff and skipping out the door, Jack dropped the remnants of his morning meal into the rowan bowl just on the other side. Almost immediately five different colored orbs of brightly burning light peeked through the snow and rock faces before darting towards the newly filled bowl. Running out of the valley, the ex-spirit yelled over his shoulder at the gathered group of Dewdrop Faeries.

“If any of you know where I can get something to make blue dyes, I’m willing to trade for it,” Jack called back. Almost immediately, a ball of purple light perked up and fluttered about for a moment before forcing its way back into the mob of lights surrounding the rowan bowl. The action alone told the brunet he already had a taker for his trade. He just hoped he had something the little Wyldfae would be willing to trade for the location of the dyes. Maybe he could find something on his trip or he could make another tiny winter coat out of a snow hare’s fur.

Leaving the valley, Jack dragged the crook through the snow in hopes of turning up anything useful. He was able to find some grubby critters he could potentially use for bait and a decent-sized shiny stone. The latter of which he knew he could use as trade with one Dewdrop Faerie or another. They had a love for shiny things.

The eternal teenager put the grubby critters in one of the two pouches hooked on the back-left side of his newly finished leather belt while the shiny stone went into the matching leather leg holster strapped to the opposite leg. He continued on, weaving his way through the sleeping trees. Occasionally, he tapped the end of his staff against a branch and ran under it as the snow was dislodged and sprinkled down onto him.

Reaching the cove, Jack climbed down the rocks and headed straight for the large boulder that hung over the deeper waters. Prior experiences showed him that the fish tended to hang around that part of the lake more than anywhere else. Plopping down, the brunet dangled his legs over the edge and pulled out some twine from his belt pocket along with the wooden hook he carved yesterday.

Long nimble fingers worked on tying the twine to the hook and then tying the opposite end to the butt of his staff. Jack then pulled out a particularly plump grub from his collection and speared it onto the hook. With a flick of his wrist, the twine weighted down by the hook flew out into the freshwater and landed with an inaudible plop. Amber eyes watched the little ripples created stretch out towards the shoreline before traveling back to where his line met the lake.

Looking into the murky blue depths, the ex-spirit found the water lapping gently against the shore tranquil. At the same time, there was a sort of chaos in the serenity created by the swirling winds around, disturbing the natural order of the water beneath his feet. Jack sat up straight when he felt the familiar touch of the cool zephyr. Amber eyes closed for a moment, allowing the brunet to forget all his worries and pretend he was back in his own time with white hair and blue eyes. He could almost imagine flying through the clear skies, creating a flurry of snow in his wake.

The winds curiously ruffled at his hair which brought Jack crashing back to reality. Amber eyes snapped open as the winds raced away from him and danced across the lake just out of reach. Unlike the winds Jack was acquainted with, those which would wrap around him in a caring embrace in a brief greeting before heading off. They hadn’t tentatively reached out to him with small wisps and playful gusts since he had ventured towards Burgess as a newly-born immortal.

Breathing out deeply, the brunet watched as the winds picked up a few twigs and small pieces of debris and put on a show for him. Obviously, the winds detected his changing moods and the display in front of him was its attempt to get him to cheer up. Even in the past, the winds were proficient at picking up his true moods with accuracy and acted accordingly. The winds were adept at making him feel a tad bit better to the point there was a tiny, sincere smile gracing his lips. But more than anything, he wished the winds here knew him.

That was the dilemma, the winds didn’t know him. Mr. Vadderung didn’t know him. No one knew Jack Frost. Yet, having Mr. Vadderung and the winds present—even without them knowing him as he knew them—gave Jack some consistency in his life. Something he desperately needed to make the trip to the past somewhat bearable and it kept him from doing something completely stupid. With their presence, he had been able to stay in the past for almost six weeks, granted, four of those weeks were spent in bed healing. Another aspect of being human he had forgotten.

As a spirit, the eternal teenager had been hurt plenty of times, but his body could endure through it. He could use his ice as bandages, splints, or whatever he required when needed. Then, with a night spent under the full moon by his pond, he would be completely rejuvenated. As a human, Jack didn’t have his ice and his body couldn’t tolerate the pain. Neither could he go to his pond where Manny would use his limited powers to heal some random child when he had Pitch to worry about.

“Hey,” Jack yelped out in surprise, a tad bit of glee mixed in, when his staff was nearly jerked from his lax grip. Reflexes kicked in and he tightened his grip. Reaching for the twine, the brunet used his right hand to pull the line in while his left kept hold of his staff. At the end, much to the ex-spirit's delight, there was a Pike the length of his forearm and almost just as wide.

“Not bad for my first cast,” Jack said, pleased with his catch. He proceeded to knock the fish unconscious with a well-placed jab of his staff and then added more bait to his hook.

The brunet continued to fish for a few hours, getting quite the haul and the motions became rather repetitive to the point he could reel in, stun, bait, and cast without a thought. Which was good, since Jack’s mind was elsewhere; he was currently occupied with filtering through the possible tasks magic wanted him to complete. Whatever he had to do, it had to be nearby, since magic wouldn’t drop him in the archipelago and miles away from where he needed to be. At least he hoped not.

Even now, Jack wondered why magic picked him. What made him so special that magic chose him out of everyone else? Why send him—who knows how many years—into the past when magic could have just chosen someone from this era to complete whatever the task was?

“Couldn’t you tell me what I have to do? Just a little hint, that’s all I’m asking for? A nudge,” Jack pleaded, looking up into the sky for any sign someone up there was listening. When nothing came, the brunet let out a deep sigh and slumped down. It had been worth a try.

Not wanting to dwell on the unknown, the eternal teen decided to enjoy the rest of his day. Jack got lost in the respite of fishing and relaxation that he didn’t hear the heavy, but cautious steps of a large predator sneaking up on him. He didn’t register the new sounds the animal was making; his mind adrift on the calmness he felt and all else was background noises pushed to the side. However, the brunet couldn’t ignore the new arrival when he had finished pulling in another fish only to have a large, black snout bump into his hand.

Turning around, amber eyes stared straight into huge bright green eyes with large pupils encased by black scales. Next, he noticed a pair of large mobile ear-like appendages—directed towards the sky—on the creature’s head along with a few smaller nubs to the sides and back. His eyes drifted down the short neck to the sleek body, stopping momentarily on the large pair of bat-like wings before drifting down. There was another pair of smaller wings near the base of the long tail and Jack could see two wing-like tailfins at the end of said tail. One of which was clearly a prosthetic; the bright red fabric tipping him off.

It took a moment for his brain to process what amber eyes were staring at, but when he did, he realized there was a large black dragon less than a foot in front of his face. They stared at each other. The dragon was the first to make a move, tilting its head to the side and slowly opening its mouth to reveal pink gums. Suddenly, a full set of sharp teeth extended from those gums to clamp down on the fish Jack still held and ripped it right out of his hands. Only as the dragon retreated did Jack react, even though it was without thought or caution.

“Hey!” the ex-spirit shouted, lunging for the stolen fish. He was lucky enough to seize the tail with both hands; the downside being the black dragon had its teeth sunk into the fish’s head.

“Give me back my fish,” Jack growled out, yanking at the tail to no avail. Leaning back proved to be a mistake, as the dragon promptly released its hold, and the brunet went toppling backwards.

Acting on instinct, the teenager let go of the fish and threw his arms out behind him to catch himself. He could feel the rocks digging into his palms. Thankfully, his arm warmers exceeded his expectations and kept the earth below from ripping into his hands. They did not, however, keep him from feeling the pain piercing through his whole backside.

“Toothless!” a nasally voice screeched, and Jack felt, more than saw the black menace move towards the new voice but stopped after a couple of steps.

The ex-spirit heard the hurried, uneven footfalls of someone with an injured leg coming his way. Not that he cared; he was still dazed from the whole ordeal. Turning his head to the side, the brunet was relieved to see his staff resting on the edge of the boulder undamaged. A harsh frown soon crossed his face when he noticed the fishing twine had broken at some point in the scuffle and the hook he had carved had been lost to the waters.

“Are you alright?” the nasally voice asked as a hand shoved itself into Jack’s line of sight. The brunet just gazed blankly at the appendage while his own hand reached out and wrapped around the familiar gnarled staff. With a swift motion that only came from years of practice and muscle memory, Jack swatted the hand out of his way with the crook.

Depositing the gnarled piece of wood by his side, the brunet brought his legs up to his chest and braced both hands on either side of his head. Jack then rolled all his weight on to his shoulders and kicked up at the same time he pushed down with his hands. The momentum launched him up and, by shifting his weight, he landed on his feet. With his boot, he flipped his staff up and seized it from the air. Amber eyes glared at the teenager before him who was wordlessly opening and closing his mouth.

Not a particularly good first impression.

The other boy was older than Jack’s own perceived fourteen years, his deep green eyes betraying his age. Granted, the new arrival was an inch or two shorter than the Guardian. His skin had a healthy beige hue to it with a number of freckles dusting his cheeks, but it was a pale white scar just below and to the right of his bottom lip that hardly stood out, and yet, it caught his eye. Ear-length auburn hair was parted to the right which suited the rather scrawny—but heavier built than the eternal teenager’s own—frame.

The boy wore a light green tunic with long sleeves bound at the wrists by leather cords similar to those wrapped around Jack’s arm warmers. A brown cloth belt secured the tunic in place while a dark brown fur vest worn over the top provided an extra layer of protection. Wool pants a shade darker than that of his tunic didn’t look out of place but what really held Jack’s attention was the single fur-lined, brown leather boot and the opposing metal contraption attached just above the teen’s left ankle.

“Um… hey,” the auburn-haired teenager stammered when he finally produced actual words.

“Is that your dragon?” Jack interrupted, jabbing his crook towards the black menace. Green eyes followed the direction the staff was pointed in and winced when he saw the dragon slurping down the fish the ex-spirit had fought so valiantly for. The pile where the rest of his haul had been was nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah,” the teenager confirmed; green eyes gazing down and to the side. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed the back of his head with his left hand. “He is, but I can assure you that Toothless didn’t mean any harm.”

“No harm?” the eternal teenager gritted out. A new memory from his mortal life springing to the forefront of his mind of his sister, crying from the pain of an empty stomach, and him, helplessly rocking her tiny body back and forth as the same gnawing hunger consumed him.  The house was barren and would be for days to come, but there wasn’t anything the colonial boy could do to help his family, to help his little sister whom he was supposed to protect.

Jack came out of the memory with moisture filling his eyes and the phantom pangs of hunger. His nails would have drawn blood from the palms of his hands had it not been for his arm warmers. Upon taking notice of the boy in front of him once more, the brunet could not keep his emotions at bay.

“What do you call eating all my food then, huh?” Jack growled out, forcefully striking the butt of his staff on the boulder.

The auburn-haired teenager reeled back as if it had been him struck and not the boulder. His black menace of a dragon, now coiled around the teenager, hunkered down and bared those sharp white teeth. The only reason the dragon didn’t outright attack was due to the hand the boy placed upon the menace’s head.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the green-eyed teenager started to apologize, “I’ll—"

“I don’t want to hear it!” the brunet snapped, cutting off whatever the other boy had to say. Jack knew he needed to calm down. He needed to take a step back and cool off.

“Look, I can—"

“Not. Interested,” Jack snarled as he twirled his staff upside down and began to untangle his line as a way to distract himself. Once it was free, he wound the twine up to prevent it from becoming a tangled mess again. “Just go back to wherever you came from and leave me in peace.”

“There’s no reason to be rude,” the comment had the eternal teenager freezing as he put the twine into his back pouch.

Jack fought to rein in his temper, he really did, but the last comment shredded his self-control. Amber eyes gazed through messy bangs, fixing in the harshest glare the Guardian of Fun could muster. He drew a slight bit of satisfaction when the auburn-haired teenager took an involuntary step back into the dragon. The black menace bristled and emitted a low, threatening rumble.

“Rude?” came the icy cold, yet faint, silvery voice through gritted teeth. “Rude is your dragon eating all my food; food that could very well mean the difference between life and death in certain circumstances. Now excuse me, but I must go restock my supplies your dragon devoured.”

With that, Jack angrily pushed passed the two menaces and headed out of the cove. Not only would he need to retrieve the second hook he’d left back at Finn's hut, but he would also need to search the forest for anything he could use as bait if he wanted to catch any fish for Grump. Once his equipment was replenished, the brunet headed for the sea cliffs. At least there, no one would bother him.

Chapter 7: Let the Son of a Chief Live a Little

Notes:

Yay, the second reference was caught by Anon~ regarding the Dresden Files! Kudos for that and now my headcanon for the magical aspects of this story has been revealed for what they truly are, a combination of references from BBC Merlin and Dresden Files.

Here's the next chapter. I wonder if any of you can pinpoint where I'm picking up in the HTTYD's universe (and just so you know, I don't read the books).

Chapter Text

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was sixteen summers old. He was the Conqueror of the Red Death, Head of Berk’s Dragon Training Academy, the Hero of Berk, and he was being treated like a child. His father, Stoick the Vast, the Chief of Berk had grounded him and the rest of the Riders of Berk as if they were still unruly children. Literally grounded. His father put a ban on flying after Alvin the Treacherous kidnapped both Toothless and himself with Mildew's help, the double-crosser.

Instead of training and preparing for the imminent attack Alvin was sure to launch, Hiccup was stuck manning the forge. So not only was he grounded literally but he was confined to the blacksmith's stall as well. Why there weren’t more people capable of running the stall in the blacksmith’s absence, the young Viking didn’t know. What he did know was Gobber the Belch—Berk’s only blacksmith and his mentor—had been gone for a whole week and the teenager had no idea where.

Okay, that was only partially true. He did know Gobber had some business to attend to in the northern region. The man had talked Hiccup and Toothless into taking him and a cart up into the mountains to collect supplies. What he was intending to find so close to Devastating Winter’s end was a mystery. Most of the forest and a quarter of the animals within were still hibernating and the snow made it difficult to hunt the other three-quarters of the animal population awake during this time of the year.

Hiccup wasn’t all that concerned with his mentor’s absence. What had the chief’s son preoccupied just so happened to occur on the same day Gobber departed. He was fixated on the day because of what transpired after he dropped the blacksmith off but before his father banned flying not even a moment after Toothless had landed in the village. No, the auburn-haired teen was obsessed over what had taken place at the cove.

When they were flying back to the village, a glistening purple light twinkling below had caught Hiccup’s eye. Toothless promptly gave chase when his rider pointed out the flickering light. The problem came from the thick forest hindering their exploration, reducing their speed. Hiccup forced the Night Fury to land and continued their search on foot. Not too long afterwards, the young Viking noticed the black dragon was no longer at his back.

Hiccup was worried at first, jumping to the conclusion the purple light had belonged to the Outcasts and they managed to kidnap Toothless out from underneath him. Yet, once the auburn-haired teenager calmed down, he noticed the trail of Night Fury tracks leading through the thick layer of snow. He followed the footprints to the cove he’d first met Toothless in and had the unfortunate timing of finding said dragon trying to wrestle a fish out of some stranger’s hands.

Toothless, upon noticing his presence, immediately let go of the fish and sat up straight, his ear-plates flickering up before the left plate twitched to the side. The stranger, on the other hand, went flying backwards and Hiccup had to wince as the brunet struck the ground. An exasperated moan of the dragon’s name had the Night Fury’s ear-plates drooping and hunkering down into himself, knowing he was in trouble.

Hiccup chose to ignore Toothless for the time being. He would take care of the troublemaker later. His current concern was with the stranger sitting a hair’s breadth away from falling off the boulder and into the lake which never seemed to freeze despite the cold winter chill.

Getting his first real look at the boy, the auburn-haired teenager was stunned to find someone he knew wasn’t from the archipelago. The boy’s brown hair wasn’t uncommon, but it was the shocking pair of amber eyes which exposed the boy’s foreign ancestry. Hiccup had never seen such eyes before and there was just something about those eyes that held him captivated.

The enchanted state the young Viking had fallen into was broken when the other boy batted his hand away with a piece of wood. His jaw dropped when the brunet proceeded to do an incredible maneuver, jumping to his feet in an astounding display of refined body control and grace. He then continued with his unwitting display of elegance by propelling the piece of wood—which turned out to be a staff—from the ground up into the air with a kick. The boy caught it without ever taking his eyes off Hiccup.

What stood out to the chief’s son the most wasn’t the brunet’s actions but his words. They left a heavy burden weighing on his mind. On numerous occasions, Hiccup caught himself wondering if the fish Toothless ate was truly all the food the boy possessed. With the end of Devastating Winter and the brunet being a foreigner, he more than likely didn’t have provisions left over after the harshest season. The notion the fish had been all the other boy owned sent the chief’s son’s stomach plummeting. He might have very well, unintentionally as it may have been, caused someone to suffer.

“Hey Hiccup,” a familiar voice pulled the auburn-haired teenager out from his recurring and equally disheartening thoughts. Setting aside the hammer he was using to beat a glowing red piece of iron into no particular shape, Hiccup safely deposited the metal into the water tub before turning his attention to the front of the shop.

There stood—in Hiccup’s humble opinion—a sensual young shieldmaiden with the cutest button nose. Her features were slim, but the village’s runt knew from experience those delicate features concealed strength any Viking, male or female, would be envious of. Though, her strength wasn’t the only thing their generation of shieldmaidens were envious of. Many of the girls longed for hair as luscious and beautiful as her fair blonde locks none outside the Hofferson clan possessed and in their jealous fits, they often mocked her style. 

Not that the shieldmaiden cared what they thought, she was all about function over style. She regularly tied her long locks back into a tight braid and kept the fringe out of steel-blue eyes with a kransen of brown leather. Skull-emblazoned shoulder pads attached to a tight grey wool shirt with a spiked leather skirt over the top of dark blue pants and brown boots made up her everyday clothing. The only part of her outfit that changed from day to day was the cloth strips wrapped from elbows down to her fingers which usually had to be changed due to damage or bloodstains.

Astrid Hofferson; his kinda, sorta girlfriend, but not really. Actually, if he were to stop and think about it, Hiccup wasn’t sure what they were to each other. They had shared four kisses: one on the cheek following the impromptu ride Toothless had dragged her on, their first real kiss after the Red Death’s defeat, then she kissed him during Berk’s first Snoggletog with dragons, and finally, after this year’s Thawfest games when he threw the race to Snotlout, Astrid had kissed him then too. But other than those kisses, there had been none of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe's usual courtship traditions. Hiccup just didn’t know where they stood. Her kisses suggested one thing, but the lack of courtship customs implied the exact opposite. Really, only Freya knew where their relationship was headed.

Next to Astrid stood a fidgeting Fishlegs Ingerman, Berk’s resident dragon enthusiast. Like Hiccup, his skin was covered in freckles, but they were more or less hidden by the soft rosy hue of his cheeks. He had Berk’s characteristic light coloring of green eyes and blond hair. The latter of which was hard to tell seeing how the vast majority of his head was covered by a simplistic Viking helmet save for a few locks sticking out at odd angles. To complement the headgear, he wore a large, sleeveless brown fur coat with dark green woolen pants and yak fur-lined boots.

Despite his various shortcomings, Fishlegs was the smartest member of Berk’s Dragon Training Academy. He could have been the strongest member as well, being the largest in the group in height and girth. However, the Ingerman was also the quietest and most timid member of the Academy which made being the strongest moot.

“Hee—ey Astrid, Fishlegs,” Hiccup drew out his greeting. He knew why they were here, and he knew they weren’t going to like his father’s unchanged proclamation. “How’s it goin?”

“When are we going to resume dragon training?” short and to the point, that was Astrid asking the hard questions. Didn’t mean the chief’s son had the answers she wanted.

“I don’t know; when my dad has come back to his senses. Who knows?” the auburn-haired teenager shrugged, leading the way through the cluttered stall and into the back where his equally cluttered worktable filled with various sketches and half-constructed prototypes sat. “But it wouldn’t make much difference if he lifted the ban in an hour, I promised Gobber I’d run the shop until he gets back.”

“He’s not back yet? I thought he’d be back by now,” Fishlegs commented, looking around the forge as if the blacksmith would jump out at him, which could have very well been the case if the older Viking was there. He’d done it before and the blond Viking was scarred for life.

“No,” Hiccup shook his head, clearing away the papers he left on the bench, “he’s not, and I have no idea what he is doing,”

“He didn’t tell you?” Astrid sat on the now clean bench. Fishlegs, on the other hand, had become distracted by a miniature scale model of a new design for Toothless’s tailfin he seized from the mess. His massive fingers had difficulty fiddling with the tiny tailfin’s mechanisms.

“Tell me what?” the teenager asked, dumping the papers onto the unused worktable across from his own.

“Gobber’s doing a favor for my Da,” the shieldmaiden replied, snatching the mini tailfin away from Fishlegs when he fumbled with the prototype, almost dropping it after the apparatus snapped closed. She took a look at the piece before setting it gently back on the workbench.

Hiccup winced when he saw the current state of the tailfin; at least it had already turned out to be ineffective. “Oh, well that’s kind of him. How is your dad by the way? He broke his leg, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Astrid said, arms crossed and eyes rolling. “Ma’s threatening to break his other leg if he keeps on trying to get out of the house and ‘hunt down that traitorous filth Mildew.’ She already broke his thumb to prove her point.”

“So, it’s true?” Fishlegs inhaled sharply, green eyes widening as hands wrung the fur of his tunic while leaning in closer, waiting anxiously. “Your dad caught Mildew defecting and was thrown down the mountain?”

“Nah,” the blonde waved her hand, “it was off a cliff. But at least we know Mildew is a traitor and not a prisoner of Alvin’s. Else you’d be trying to rescue him.”

“I’m not that bad,” Hiccup whirled around from tidying up the smithy, vigorously shaking his head. Upon witnessing the two blonds sharing a knowing look with one another, a frown found its way onto the auburn-haired teenager’s face.

“You have a hero complex, you’re that bad,” the heavyset teenager nodded his head sagely.

“No, I don’t,” the chief’s son denied, his voice a little higher than he would care to admit. Hiccup consoled himself with the fact his not quite yell was due to the growing chatter flowing in from outside and not his refusal.

“Toothless, our dragons, Heather," the last was snapped out with no small amount of animosity—Astrid, apparently, wasn’t over the whole Heather stealing Stormfly thing as she had led them to believe—which had both boys cringing, “need I continue?” came the rhetorical question as her fingernails drummed against the bench. With each repetition, the force between the tapping became stronger and louder until she broke a nail and let out a hiss.

“No, no, no…you don’t. I get it; we are good, we can move on,” Hiccup said with such finality that for once the others listened to him. He chose to ignore the silent communication going on between Astrid and Fishlegs. “Back to the subject of dragon training, I have an idea, but…”

“But?” Fishlegs hesitantly probed, looking back and forth between the blonde and the auburn-haired teenager before eyeing the exit. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what the Head of the Dragon Training Academy had to say. The last few times might have worked out fine, well, in the end, they had worked out fine, but he had been a nervous wreck the whole way.

“It involves going behind your dad’s back. Doesn’t it?” Astrid examined her broken fingernail.

“Well,” Hiccup started rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out the best way to answer that question which wouldn’t cause the heavyset Viking to fly off the handle while also not earning him a reproachful look from the shieldmaiden. He was saved from the impossible task when the growing commotion outside grew loud enough that it could not be ignored anymore. However, it was one particularly loud scream that had all three teenagers turning their heads towards the front entrance.

“Get ye hands off me dragon!”

For a moment, no one said a word until Fishlegs timidly piped up. “Was that Gobber?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup answered, eyes not leaving the entryway in spite of the lack of view his current position provided.

“Did he just say his dragon?” the blond Viking gulped, pressing his forefingers together and looking around.

“Yeah,” Astrid confirmed, steel-blue eyes turning to meet green orbs furrowed in contemplation and confusion.

“He has a dragon?” Fishlegs whispered in awe and a little bit of fear as well. Gobber the Belch did have a reputation and it wasn’t all good. The man had lost two of his four appendages and from the rumors, only one of them had been from a dragon attack.

“Not that I know of,” Hiccup shook his head, breaking himself out of the stupor that settled over the group.

“This, I have to see,” Astrid pushed her way past the two teenage boys and all but ran from the forge. Hiccup and Fishlegs were not even a step behind her as the shieldmaiden cleared a path through the uncommonly crowded streets. Stepping out from under the stall’s roof, the auburn-haired teenager heard a growl from above and turned his head up to Toothless's location. The dragon, currently perched at the edge of the roof, was staring into the crowd with narrowed eyes and nostrils flaring.

Wondering what had the Night Fury riled, Hiccup did his best to follow the dragon’s gaze. He found a cart laden with goods through the cluster of Vikings and as people scattered, vivid green eyes caught sight of a large Boulder-class dragon pulling the cart. The Head of the Academy thought the dragon to be a Gronckle at first. A second glance had Hiccup questioning his knowledge of the different species as a result of his inability to place it. He knew he hadn’t seen that particular species of dragon listed in The Book of Dragons.

“What species of dragon is that?” Fishlegs barely remembered himself in time to prevent himself from screaming into the shieldmaiden's ear. That didn’t stop the heavyset Viking from bouncing up and down to see over the cluster of heads for a better look. Occasionally, he would mumble out some observation about the unknown species until a squeal of pure delight—that shouldn’t have belonged to anyone over the age of ten—emanated from Fishlegs when the crowd parted, allowing an unobstructed view of the new dragon.

“No idea,” Hiccup answered, watching as one of the Vikings crowded around the dragon reached out to touch the not-Gronckle. The dark-haired man quickly backed off when a large, burly man stepped between him and the dragon, waving around what remained of his left arm along with the makeshift prosthetic—in the form of a large stone hammer attached to his forearm—at the taller Viking.

From this distance, the auburn-haired teenager could see the agitated Viking had almost completely knocked his own long-horned helmet off with his stone hammer. The bare skin underneath was revealed for a split second before the headgear was quickly repositioned. Hiccup could just imagine the man’s dirty blond unibrow forming a V-shape as his braided mustache flew around on account of his exaggerated gestures while chastising the man who had dared touch the dragon. Add a crooked nose, big ears, and large jawline up close and in the taller man’s face, it was no wonder the frightened dark-haired Viking quickly backed off. That was just how Gobber was, overbearing but easily the most kindhearted Viking of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.

In the week since Hiccup last saw him, the tribe’s blacksmith had seen some wear and tear. The teen immediately took notice of the changes to his mentor, starting with the latest batch of holes in the brown wool shirt adding to his ever-growing collection. Oddly enough, the yak fur vest over the top of the shirt was still intact. However, the man’s right wooden leg wasn’t so lucky and was almost half the size it should have been while his sole boot was missing the yak fur around the top along with the leather strap regularly wrapped around his right arm. Thankfully, the strap keeping Gobber’s prosthesis in place on his left arm was still there and so were his burlap pants, the latter of which everyone was incredibly grateful for.

“Whoa. That is a lot of pelts,” Astrid drew vivid green eyes to the large pile of furs and leathers threatening to fall off the back of the cart.

One pure white fur—which would fetch a high price for the color alone—threatened to slip off the back and into the muddy street. Yet, before the fur slid any further, it was pushed back on top by a wooden crook. Green eyes followed the length of the wood down to the figure trailing behind the cart. Hiccup had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. For there, wrapped tightly in a black fur, was the strange foreigner Toothless stole from and the boy who haunted his thoughts.

“Off with the lot of ye! Imma gonna need a complete inventory before any of this goes up for sale,” Gobber chased the crowd off by waving his stone hammer around threateningly. There were plenty of grumbles and a lot more complaints, but a few offers to get the first pick were thrown out as well; some of which sounded pretty enticing even to the chief’s son. Despite the hubbub, the crowd slowly dispersed barring three young Vikings who moved closer.

The first, who approached the much slimmer foreigner, was a well-built brunet with more muscle than fat. His face held more colorless scars than freckles and when added with the crooked and missing teeth, it indicated the multitude of fights the green-eyed teen got into frequently. The brunet’s grass green shirt and black yak vest were of the best quality but shabby from the constant abuse. In addition to brown wool pants tucked into yak boots, leather arm braces matching the belt around his waist—secured by an artfully crafted buckle—and a Viking helmet with the largest ram horns attached to the sides bespoke of the teenager’s higher status in the tribe’s hierarchy.

On either side of the muscular dark-haired Viking stood a pair of wheat blond-haired twins towering over the top of him. To the right was a lanky dark blue-eyed teenage boy with unkempt dreadlocks. The blond Viking had on a severely faded green tunic paired with a brown sash-like belt tied around his waist and a lengthy dark brown bear fur vest. His greyish-blue pants had seen better days, but they were an improvement compared to the once white, now brown, armbands wrapped around his forearms. The dark brown furry boots and along with the four-horned—a pair of bullhorns and a pair of ox-horns—helmet gave him the traditional Viking appearance.

On the brunet Viking’s other side, stood the second twin, a teenage girl with a somewhat masculine appearance. Her more notable features consisted of a slim face combined with a wide toothy smile and barely there feminine curves. Wheat-colored bangs had been pulled into twin braids to frame her face while the rest was woven into thicker braids reaching down the blonde’s back.

Like her twin, she wore an extended light brown bear fur vest with a leather belt and brown armbands. However, unlike her brother, the blonde Viking had a dark blue shirt underneath the vest and she wore a grey-brown skirt in addition to her brown leather pants to show her womanly side. Warm furry boots and a helmet with four slightly curved, long slender horns sticking out of the side completed her normal attire.

It was the sight of the trio that had Hiccup wanting to slam his face into his hand but refraining, barely. He could already feel the headache coming on when he recognized who had stayed behind. Snotlout Jorgenson and the Thorston twins: Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Combine them with Astrid and Fishlegs and they were his responsibility as the Head of Berk’s Dragon Training Academy. Whereas Astrid and Fishlegs were the better half of the Academy and Snotlout and the twins were—for lack of a better way of putting it—the troublemakers of the Academy.

The chief’s son could only imagine what degrading and idiotic things Snotlout was saying to the stranger. He expected the slender brunet to back away from the shorter—yet bulkier—and all-around larger brunet. The foreigner didn’t. He didn’t just stand there either. When Snotlout tried to take the white fur from the cart, the slight brunet reacted.

With the same grace Hiccup witnessed a week prior, the foreigner used the hook of the staff to capture the Viking’s wrist and ducked down. Moving underneath the captured arm and coming up behind the shorter boy, the brunet twisted the restrained arm in his staff back with his movements and positioned himself between the cart and the muscular Viking. A jab of the staff into the brawny teen’s back had Snotlout’s arm coming unhooked and sent him crashing into one of the Thorstons. Not once, in the whole encounter had the foreigner touched Snotlout with anything other than the staff.

“Wow,” Astrid breathed out in awe and Hiccup could only nod in agreement as he stared in disbelief. Above them on the roof, Toothless had gone from crouching down, growling at the newcomer with slits for pupils to sitting up straight, head tilted to the side and wide eyes watching the spectacle before them.

“Ah, Astrid, there you are. This makes things easier. Your uncle wanted me to give you this,” Gobber clasped Hiccup on the shoulder as he leaned over with a tightly bound scroll balanced precariously on the stone hammer that was offered up to the shieldmaiden. The auburn-haired teenager almost jumped out of his skin, not having heard the telltale thump of his mentor’s wooden leg as he approached the group. The blacksmith continued his conversation with Astrid but kept his eyes trained on Fishlegs, who was busy eyeing the new dragon. “I’ll have the tools and other supplies he wants ready in a week or two for you to take back to him. Well, that is if this flying ban I hear of is lifted by then. If not, we’ll figure something out.”

“My Da will appreciate this, thanks for your help, Gobber,” Astrid nodded her head in gratitude and took the scroll. “I better get this to Da before Ma ties him to the bed. Bye Gobber; Hiccup, we’ll finish our conversation later. See you later Fishlegs.”

The shieldmaiden parted ways with the gathered group, but not before giving Hiccup a punch in the arm.

“Bye Astrid,” the two teenage boys parroted, the skinnier of the two rubbing his arm.

“She’s a keeper, isn’t she? Well, if you are into that sorta thing that is,” Gobber said from behind the two boys, waving at the retreating blonde. “Hiccup, I need you to unload and inventory everything. Have Fishlegs help you since he doesn’t seem busy. Ye aren't, are ye, Fishlegs?”

“Uh… I um… I—" the heavyset Viking attempted to refuse. He wasn’t given a choice.

“Great!” Gobber cut off whatever Fishlegs had to say, slapping the boy on the back with such strength he sent the younger blond stumbling forward. “I’ll see you boys tonight. I need to get Jackson and Grump settled in. Jackson! Grump! Follow me!”

The brunet—Jackson whom Hiccup committed the name to memory—upon hearing his name, looked up from where he was kneeling next to the Boulder-class dragon. With one last scratch behind the dragon’s wings, he stood up and followed Gobber back into the village. The dragon trailed after them, leaving in its wake a cooling semicircle of lava separating a heap of flesh from the cart. It took a moment, but Hiccup finally distinguished the limbs and hair belonging to Ruffnut and Snotlout. Tuffnut stood to the side, pointing at the heap and laughing hysterically.

“Who was that?” Fishlegs asked as Toothless jumped down to the ground and circled around the fleshy heap, nudging what the auburn-haired teen assumed was Ruffnut’s foot but turned out to be Snotlout’s nose. A shout about stupid dragons had the Night Fury clawing the appendage in retaliation.

“I have no idea, but I’d sure like to find out,” Hiccup said the last part to himself. Shaking his head, he turned towards the laden cart which a few of the braver Vikings had come back to explore and were inching closer for a better look. “Come on Fishlegs, let’s get this over with.”

Gobber did eventually return to the blacksmith stall, but it was well into the evening and Fishlegs had long since left when the Ingerman's mother came around to collect him for dinner. Hiccup had stayed behind; not because he wanted to talk to his mentor about the foreigner he brought back. No, the only reason he stayed was to work on the prototype of the shield he was currently designing. His unhurried pace had no bearing whatsoever on the mysterious Jackson and if Gobber were itching to talk, Hiccup wouldn’t mind learning more about the dragon he’d brought back with him.

His pace was further reduced thanks to Toothless skulking around the open layout of the forge with unbridled contempt. Going a week without their routine flight around the island at sunset, tonight happened to be the night the dragon let his fury out at having been grounded for too long. The chief’s son had already been smacked in the head on three separate occasions by Toothless’s tail and he’d long since stopped counting the number of times the dragon glared in his direction. Finally, Hiccup had enough and sent the Night Fury outside. The big baby was giving him the silent treatment with his back turned to his rider and blatantly ignoring the teenager.

“Nice to have you in the shop, Hiccup,” Gobber called out, tottering into the forge on a new wooden peg leg. “I didn’t think you’d still be here at this hour. Getting Jackson and Grump settled in was a little more difficult than I had anticipated. I appreciate the dedication and ye stickin’ around until I returned.”

“No problem,” the auburn-haired teen replied. He wanted to latch on to the part about getting Jackson settled in and discreetly inquire about the boy. Gobber didn’t give him the chance and changed the subject.

“So, what are we making?” the blacksmith inquired, eyeing the wooden shield he was tinkering with.

Even though it wasn’t the topic Hiccup currently wanted to discuss, he was proud to show his mentor the prototype shield. Unlike the intended finished product, he made this one mostly out of wood to save on materials. There were some features he couldn’t skip on using the costly metals, but he limited the use of iron to the hub in the center and the rim around the edge. The only thing left was to test the design out. That and wait for the painting of a Night Fury done in black—save for the prosthetic tailfin he had painted red to reflect Toothless—to dry. A quick swipe of a finger over the paint revealed it to be slightly sticky but no residue was left behind, so it was safe to handle.

“What do you think?” Hiccup inquired as he offered the shield to Gobber.

His unibrow scrunched together to form a V, the blond Viking held the shield at arm’s length to get a better look at his student’s creation. “All this work for a shield?”

“Well, it’s not just a shield,” the green-eyed teenager replied, not offended at the lack of gusto.

Taking the shield back, Hiccup pressed a well-concealed button causing the iron hub to spring open and launch a grappling line. He really should have thought it through a bit more because he had unintentionally aimed the grapple at Gobber. When the line was securely wrapped around the blond Viking, the retraction mechanism automatically kicked in and the smaller teenager was yanked into the blacksmith’s personal space.

“Handy,” Gobber commented after a few seconds of awkward silence with him and Hiccup plastered to one another.

“If we can’t ride dragons, we have to defend ourselves somehow,” Hiccup stood by his design, taking the time to carefully untangle the line from around his mentor to keep from having to replace the mechanism and rope again. He’d already replaced the line twice and tinkered with the mechanism on five separate occasions.

The blacksmith must have heard the dejected tone in his voice because he gave the young Viking a soft look. “You know, Hiccup, your father is just doing what’s best for you. He’s trying to keep you safe.”

“I know, but the problem is the safest place for me is on Toothless,” Hiccup acknowledged, momentarily ceasing all work on the shield to look up at the blacksmith. Another awkward silence descended upon them as the teenager went back to winding the rope into the hub. After a moment or two, the green-eyed Viking switched topics—for no other reason than he was feeling uncomfortable with the silence—and did his best to be subtle about it, “So Gobber, about this morning—"

“Ah, I already know what you’re going to say,” Gobber interrupted, taking the prototype from his apprentice when the young Viking closed the hub with the rope now safely coiled inside to study the design.

“You do?” Hiccup squeaked—wincing at the sound of his voice—before clearing his throat. Idly, he rubbed his elbow while green eyes did their best to avoid looking at the blacksmith.

“You want to know about me dragon!” the blond Viking exclaimed with a wide smile on his face. Setting the shield to the side, Gobber slung his arm over Hiccup’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“Ye~ah, that’s it,” the chief’s son nervously laughed, trying not to twitch in the blacksmith’s embrace. Gobber eyed him for a moment with a pensive gaze, before grinning broadly.

“Well, can’t say he’s mine exactly. Jackson,” and Hiccup immediately latched onto the name, “was the one who initially found the dragon, or would that be the other way around? Blah! Doesn’t matter,” Gobber waved off with a wild gesture of his stone hammer. Letting go of his apprentice, the man ran stubby fingers through his blond mustache as the earlier pensive look returned to his blue eyes. “Finn and Jackson had Grump holed up with them during Devastating Winter. They were feeding him fish and meat, he nearly took off me bad leg when I got in range of his nose. Hotburple—while they can survive on fish and meats—have a main diet of metal ore.”

“A Hotburpall, what?” Hiccup questioned, trying his best to pay attention. Despite the teenager’s intentions, his mind was engrossed only with what Gobber was saying related to Jackson and was doing a poor job of retaining anything else.

“A Hotburple, I'm not surprised you haven’t heard of them. They haven’t been seen around Berk since before me father was born. We thought we’d killed them all, it was just one less dragon we had to deal with,” Gobber explained, staring at his hand with dull eyes. “Didn’t even transfer Bork the Bold’s notes into The Book of Dragons when it was being made, you should be able to find a whole section on them in the notes, if you’re taking care of them properly that is.”

“I am,” Hiccup grumbled, not concerned with the evil eye targeting him. The Head of the Dragon Training Academy didn’t fault Gobber for his misgivings—though, it was getting rather old—when it came to keeping the man’s ancestor’s legacy in pristine condition. Albeit, he would have to go through the notes again to find out more about the Hotburple; he didn’t remember reading anything about the dragon species before and he’d been through those notes countless times.

“That’s good then,” the blacksmith bobbed his head up and down, happy to hear his heirlooms were being taken care of. “Anyways, Hotburple think Gronckle but instead of eating rocks, they mainly eat metal ore—"

“If they mainly eat metal ore, why did he try to eat your wooden leg?” the auburn-haired teenager interjected, looking pointedly at the new peg Gobber was wearing.

“He smelled the metal shavings stuck to it of course,” his mentor explained chuckling, tapping his peg leg with his stone hammer. “After eating meats for a solid season, it probably tasted like a Yak Butter Parfait after eating Mildew’s cabbage for a year.”

Hiccup made a disgusted face; he could have gone without that thought. His stomach actually turned at the mention of Mildew’s cabbage. All the food in Berk was tough and tasteless, but the traitor’s cabbage tasted like dirt. Actually, the twins had eaten dirt instead of having to eat the cabbage which was the day he swore off eating the leafy greens even if it was the last food on Berk. When the twins didn’t want to eat Mildew's cabbage, then he knew it was bad because they ate anything.

“Can’t really blame Finn, what with him and dragons, I'm surprised he even took Grump in,” Gobber said fondly, shaking his head. “So anyways, there I was, with a dragon chewing on me leg—licking off all the metal bits and bobs stuck to it over the years from working in the forge—and towering over me was Fearless Finn Hofferson concerned with me wellbeing. He was perfect.”

“The dragon?” Hiccup asked concerned given the dreamy tone the blacksmith had taken on near the end.

“Um…yeah,” the Viking quickly agreed, blue eyes darting to the side. “Any who, Finn pushed Grump back and made sure I was alright. Not that knocking me down was going to cause me any harm. So, Finn and me made a trade. I’d do some metal work for him, and he’d give me—"

“The Hotburple,” Hiccup finished for Gobber, getting slightly desperate to hear more about the mysterious boy than the dragon.

“What? Nah, he’d give me some of the best-preserved meats on this side of Berk and first pick at anything else I might want,” Gobber answered with a shake of his head.

“How’d you get the dragon then?” the young Viking asked, not having to feign interest in the story. If Gobber hadn’t traded for the dragon, how exactly did he get said Hotburple? Hiccup hoped that his mentor hadn’t stolen the dragon.

Gobber gave his apprentice a pointed look, almost as if he’d heard the teenager’s inner thoughts. “The dragon came on his own; well, to be precise, he followed Jackson and after finding out I worked at the smithy, he wanted to stay with me.”

It was just the opening Hiccup was waiting for. “Uh, Gobber, who is Jackson?”

The blacksmith gave a large sigh, facial features turning down. “Terrible story there, poor lad, he was attacked by a pride of Changewings and carried to Berk before Grump saved him. No family to speak of, Finn thought it best he came to the village, hoping it would bring him out of his shell. He also mentioned something about having Gothi look him over, but the lad didn’t seem thrilled with the idea.

“I offered to house the lad, but in return, he’s gotta earn his keep,” Gobber waved his stone hammer around the forge, “I hope you won’t mind having some help around here. When ye’re here that is. I could use the extra hands, what with ye being gone half of the time doing Academy stuff.”

Hiccup gulped, he wouldn’t mind having Jackson around the smithy; the real problem would be if Jackson minded having Hiccup around.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Gobber slapped his apprentice on the back. “Imagine you’ll be here quite a while. Too bad, really. Have you seen that moon? Can’t imagine a more beautiful night for a flight.”

The rumbles from Toothless had Hiccup slamming his head into his hand before glaring at the retreating form of his mentor. Did he really have to go and say that? Now Toothless would be incorrigible.

Turning his head towards the whining Night Fury staring up at the moon with acid green eyes full of longing, the teenager groaned. “I know what you’re thinking, and you might as well forget it.”

The dejected look from the dragon had Hiccup’s resolve crumbling and when Toothless hunkered down, ear-plates flattening against his head, the Viking’s resolve shattered.

Chapter 8: Iron Determination

Chapter Text

Hiccup never made it back to the smithy.  Not for a few days at least. He’d been too busy with the Dragon Flight Club. A club he had formed behind his father’s back to patrol the skies at night. His father couldn’t even get mad at him for disobeying the chief’s ban, seeing how they were able to fend off Alvin and his Outcasts attacking Berk with a pride of Changewings. When the blacksmith’s apprentice did turn up at the forge, Jackson was nowhere to be seen and by inquiring about the foreigner, Gobber had informed him the brunet was working only half the day. The blond Viking had encouraged Jackson to use his free time to familiarize himself with the village and the other tribe members with the hope that the teen would make some friends along the way.

It was pretty odd since every time Hiccup made an effort—even when he wasn’t making an effort—to arrive at the smithy while Jackson was supposed to be there, the foreigner was already gone. It didn’t matter if it was morning or afternoon, Hiccup either ended up just missing Jackson or the boy would return after the Dragon Rider left. He thought it might have been on purpose, but half the time Gobber was the reason for Jackson’s absence, sending him out for one reason or another.

However, today was different. Today was the official beginning of spring and the smithy along with the majority of Berk was closed to attend the celebrations. Hiccup opted to skip out and work on some of his own projects in the forge since he would have some peace and quiet with everyone else attending the Thawfest games. Astrid halfheartedly offered to stay behind with him, but he encouraged her to attend the games. Someone needed to keep Snotlout in line.

Hiccup believed himself and Toothless to be the only ones— besides the unlucky Vikings on sentry duty—in the village not enjoying the festivities. He had been mistaken. A group of kids surrounded one of the smithy’s support columns. Some of them were standing, peaking over other kids’ shoulders while others were seated on the ground in various relaxed positions.

The teenager recognized Gustav Larson as one of the children towards the back and briefly wondered why he wasn’t at the celebration. The boy worshiped Snotlout—and Hiccup thanked Odin every day that Snotlout didn’t realize the full extent of the kid’s hero-worship or his self-proclaimed rival would have become even more insufferable—to the point he dressed just like him. It didn’t help that Gustav had brown hair and blue eyes like his idol which made the resemblance a little unsettling.

At first, the chief’s son assumed the children were there to catch a glimpse of the new easy-going dragon. As of yet—even with the numerous changes made within the year—only the few members of the Dragon Training Academy and the Chief of Berk had dragons of their own. Any dragon was a novelty to the little ones and Grump was their newest fixation. He allowed the little ones to get up close and even pet him, unlike their dragons who were a bit temperamental towards anyone not their rider. Safe to say, Grump was their favorite.

Hiccup was going to call out to the little kiddies when Toothless suddenly halted at his side and all his ear-plates and nubs perked up. His head tilted to the side and he intently sniffed the air. Almost immediately, the nubs and ear-plates went back, plastering themselves against his head and Toothless’s eyes became mere slits. A hair-raising growl wrenched itself from deep in the dragon’s throat as he gave a dirty look at the group of kids, none of whom had seemed to hear the growl.

Almost as if feeling his growing trepidation, the children grew silent.

“—and BAM!” a silvery voice rose unexpectedly from within the mass of children, causing some of the children to jump back before leaning in again. “Thor struck down Thrym. To this day, Loki and Thor believe it was them alone to enter the Jötunheim kingdom to retrieve Mjölnir.”

Hiccup recognized the voice belonging to the mysterious Jackson and his heart, sent racing by Toothless’s hostility, slowed to a calmer pace. It was no wonder the dragon was displaying such animosity. The Night Fury’s initial interaction with the brunet had left off on a sour note. His rider had a suspicion Toothless’s reaction was due to Jackson’s treatment of him more than anything else, yet it was Toothless who had been in the wrong. However, by raising his voice and assaulting Hiccup, not that the Viking would call the cuff to his hand an assault, the Night Fury’s intense dislike for the brunet was born.

Sneaking closer with a weary Toothless by his side, the teenager found Jackson leaning against the support column the children encircled. He was the center of their attention and nothing, not even the Conqueror of the Red Death, could pull them away from the brunet. Unusually, the black cloak wasn’t draped across thin shoulders but currently covering the legs of the children on both sides of Jackson and the dark-haired little girl seated in his lap. Its new position also gave Hiccup a better look at the material, realizing the horrible cloak was, in fact, not a cloak at all but an unaltered pelt, claws, and all.

“Did Thor ever learn Jökul Frosti helped him?” one of the children asked as the others chimed in their own questions.

Jackson chuckled, reaching over and ruffling the boy’s hair who had asked the question. “No, no he didn’t and neither did Loki.”

“But why didn’t Jökul Frosti say anything to either of them?” someone called out from the back and Hiccup recognized the high-pitched voice belonging to Gustav, “The Thunderer would have been indebted to him then! Jökul Frosti could have risen in power then.”

Amber eyes skimmed over the auburn-haired teenager to land on Gustav. When he found the younger brunet, Jackson gave him a wide smile. “Where would the fun in that be? Jökul Frosti may be the personification of frosty winter weather, but above that, he loves having fun and causing a little bit of mischief on the side. By aiding Thor and Loki while thwarting Thrym, he created havoc and confusion without shedding a single drop of blood. 

“Well, there was that and also the fact he saw both Thor and Loki dressed as women which had him laughing for decades to come. Jökul Frosti isn't one for collecting debts nor does he crave power.  He doesn't fight unless provoked.”

“How do you provoke him?” a dirty blonde-haired preteenager probed with a gleam in her eyes. Hiccup wasn’t sure he liked that look, it reminded him too much of Snotlout when he was told he couldn’t—or shouldn’t—do something and then went and did it anyways.

“What does he do to those who provoke him?” the little boy to the foreigner’s right whimpered, eyes wide as he pulled the black bearskin up to his chin.

Jackson’s forehead crinkled, eyes flashing, as he bit the side of his bottom lip. The children were too preoccupied with what the brunet was going to say to take notice of their storyteller’s change in mood, bar Hiccup. It would have been hard for the kids to notice seeing how a smile quickly spread across the foreigner’s face so fast that the chief’s son thought he might have imagined it.

“Jökul Frosti covers those who incur his wrath in snow,” the brunet said slowly, each word measured and weighed. “As to how to provoke Jökul Frosti, now that is a feat in itself. He is carefree and very friendly, but if you hurt those he cares about and are under his protection? Only then will you have a reason to fear him.”

“Who does he consider under his protection?” the child in Jackson’s lap asked, light green eyes looking up and back at the foreigner.

“Now that is something you’ll have to find him and ask him yourself,” Jackson answered, ruffling the little girl’s shoulder-length brown hair producing a small bout of giggles.

“Question, question, I have a question,” another child in the back raised his hand, waving it around to gain the brunet’s attention. Jackson made a go-on motion. “If Jökul Frosti wasn’t around to help Thor, Thor wouldn’t have been able to reclaim Mjölnir. Even if he doesn't collect debts, shouldn’t Jökul Frosti have been rewarded for his actions?”

“No, Jökul Frosti just leveled the playing field, because, those traps Thrym used? They were modified designs for pranks stolen from Jökul Frosti, and, if not for those traps, Thor and Loki wouldn’t have needed him to intervene. They would've been able to escape Thrym's inner sanctum without Jökul Frosti’s help. Besides, Odin did reward him in a way,” the brunet reached out with his staff and bopped the child lightly on the head initiating a round of snickers.

“How was that?” the same child asked swatting at the staff which was just out of reach.

Jackson grinned, finally pulling the crook back to lean against his shoulder. “Remember Kringle? He directed Jökul Frosti to a place where he could have some fun?”

“Yeah,” coursed the children together as one.

“Well, who do you think Kringle was?” the brunet’s grin turned into a full-blown smile.

“Who?” the green-eyed, dark-haired girl asked eagerly followed by the rest of the children.

“Why who else but Odin!” Jackson exclaimed, making a wide gesture causing his attentive listeners to suck in a breath of awe. “You see, Jökul Frosti was rewarded in a way, Odin personally directed him towards the Thunderer and the Trickster with the hope that Jökul Frosti would help them. What more could a person want than to be recognized by Odin?”

Chatter spread out amongst the children as they spoke with one another before a slow chant started to build up. “Tell us another! Tell us another!”

“I want to hear about the Wyldfae!” the blonde girl next to Hiccup proclaimed. Although, the auburn-haired teenager doubted Jackson could hear her over all the noise.

“No, tell us the one about the Questing Beast and how King Arthur killed it,” Gustav yelled bouncing up and down, accidentally stepping on the foot of the girl next to him.

“King Arthur didn’t slay the Questing Beast, you dork, the Warlock Merlin did and then went on to save the king’s life,” a blonde girl snarled, punching Gustav for his infraction.

“I want to hear another story about Jökul Frosti,” said the child in Jackson’s lap. “He nips at your nose when it is cold to say hello and again as a small prank, right?”

Smiling at the girl, the brunet patted the green-eyed child on her head. “Right, but that is a story for another time. I heard there was supposed to be a feast tonight and it’s time to get ready for it, right?” There were protests and groans from the children which Jackson put to rest with a moderate scolding. “None of that now; traditions are important, and it is essential we follow them, or they could be lost forever and we don’t want that, do we? Nope, we don’t. Besides, it’s a feast, think of all the fun we can have there.”

Still, there were some grumbles, but the children looked a little less reluctant to leave.

Amber eyes rolled and Jackson used his staff to bop a few random kids on the head. A few of them tried to grab the crook before it could tap them but none of them were quick enough. Those who tried to shield their heads with their arms ended up with a tap on the nose. Giggles and shouts soon peppered the air as the children began to run away to avoid being poked and prodded.

“Tomorrow,” Jackson called out above the excited yelps and shrieks of joy, “I’ll tell you the story of how the Warlock Merlin uncovered an assassination attempt on his King during a feast. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can do the same tonight and make sure the chief is well protected.”

That sent the kids scrambling, shouts of how they were going to be the one to keep Stoick the Vast safe drifted off as the children hurried home. However, the messy blond-haired boy sitting to the brunet’s side stayed behind. His little hands fumbling around as he pulled the fur pelt around Jackson’s shoulders and clumsily worked to secure it. He then stood up and dusted the dirt off Jackson’s shoulders. The boy leaned back with a thoughtful look on his face and a critical look in his blue eyes. With one last adjustment to the bearskin now firmly affixed on the brunet’s shoulders, a smile spread across the small blond Viking’s face.

“There, all done. Now you’re ready for the festival too,” the boy applauded his own efforts despite how the makeshift cloak was obviously lopsided and not the least bit presentable.

“Thank you, Snuffnut,” Jackson somehow kept a straight face despite holding back laughter as he brushed off the snow still stuck on the bearskin. “Now, off you go to get ready. Your Ma is probably waiting for you.”

“Okay, bye Jackson,” Snuffnut bid his farewell and ran off into the village.

Shaking his head, the foreigner planted his staff in the ground and hauled himself up. He took off the cloak and shook off the frost that had accumulated on it before wrapping it around his shoulders. Never once did Jackson notice the auburn-haired teenager as he made his way in the opposite direction of the dragon and his rider. For some reason, Hiccup had the impression he had just witnessed something special.

That night, Hiccup and Toothless went to the feast even though he hadn’t planned on going earlier. It was all worth it to see his father look around bewildered as the children of the tribe were constantly underfoot. They would get in between him and other Vikings, citing they might be a potential threat or stealing his food to test it for poison. It was hilarious.

And if Hiccup’s eyes kept finding their way to Jackson—who was also surrounded by the children who wanted to protect him as well; which, Hiccup could understand because the brunet looked even frailer than him, which was saying something—it was out of curiosity, nothing else.


“This cannot get any worse,” Astrid grumbled from underneath Snotlout. Both of whom were stuck in one of the many Netter Traps left over from the days when the Hairy Hooligan Tribe killed dragons rather than train them. Now the traps were a hazard to unsuspecting Vikings as demonstrated by Astrid and Snotlout, who were hanging a good hundred feet up in the air. The shieldmaiden blamed it all on the brunet squishing her.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ve got this covered. Hookfang! Fire it up!” Snotlout shouted at the enormous bright reddish-orange dragon with darker spots scattered around his wings curled up to the side.

The dragon lifted his long snake-like neck, revealing an elongated muzzle with a nose horn and an underbite that had a row of sharp fangs protruding out of his mouth. Two pairs of large shiny grayish-black horns grew from the back of his head and curved slightly outwards on the edge as a trail of sharp spines went from the dragon’s neck all the way down his spine to the tip of his long tail. Yellowish-orange eyes that had slits for pupils blinked blurrily at the trapped Vikings before pushing himself up on double-clawed wings to expose a tan underbelly. The dragon had no forelegs but shuffled forward in a ground-based locomotion on hind legs and double-clawed wings.

A flame was already forming in the Monstrous Nightmare’s mouth when Tuffnut kicked the dragon’s tail, putting a stop to the fire. Hookfang’s long neck jerked around towards the boy, growling dangerously. For once, the blond Viking sensed danger and reacted accordingly by taking a step behind his sister for cover. Ruffnut, having none of that, switched places with him and pushed the sacrificial Viking forward.

“For the love of Týr, why’d you stop him?” Astrid grumbled, pushing Snotlout’s boot out of her face. A shove of her elbow into the boy’s stomach kept the boot from coming back and forced the air out of the brunet’s lungs.

“Because he’d destroy Pixie Hollow’s Home Tree; duh,” Ruffnut pointed out, rolling her blue eyes before breaking out into cackles of laughter when Hookfang lit her brother’s shoulder on fire.

“Pixie what now?” Snotlout wheezed out, completely unconcerned with the Monstrous Nightmare scuttling after Tuffnut while the blond frantically struggled to put the flames out. He had his own concerns to worry about, like trying to regain the oxygen he desperately needed.

“Pixie Hollow, you know? Where all the pixies live,” Tuffnut shouted, putting the fire out on his shoulder but he hadn’t quite lost Hookfang.

“Not pixies you moron, Wyldfae,” Ruffnut corrected while sticking her foot out to trip her twin. The blond fell flat on his face, which had the Monstrous Nightmare ceasing his pursuit of the Viking in favor of staring at the motionless body groaning in pain on the ground.

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Tuffnut exclaimed pushing himself up, revealing a face full of mud and displaying no signs of pain despite the grievous moans he'd been making only moments previous. Sitting up, he crossed his arms over his chest and sagely nodded his head. “We can’t burn down Wyldfae Hollow.”

“What are you two nincompoops yammering on about now?” the trapped brunet yelled, shifting slightly but it was enough for one of his legs to go through the netting.

“Does it matter? Just get us down!” Astrid growled out, finally able to wriggle her way out from underneath Snotlout. The result was the Viking’s other leg going through the net accompanied by a pained whimper.

“Don’t worry, we sent Barf and Belch to get Hiccup and Fishlegs,” Ruffnut yelled through cupped hands to appease the two.

“Great, it just got worse,” the shieldmaiden groaned and if she could have, she would have hidden her face in her hands. No sooner had the words left her lips than the sound of flapping wings pierced the air.

The twins turn to see three low-flying dragons through the leafless tree limbs headed their way. At the head of the pack were two short heads with matching horned noses and large fangs peeking out from around their underbites. Both heads had yellow reptile eyes and thin grey horns on top of their heads. Long serpentine necks with red spikes snaked down to join at one slim green body which then split again into two tails with finlike structures at the end. Red spots littered the single dragon’s topside while its underbelly was a light-yellow color. Unlike the long necks and tails, the two-headed dragon had four short legs and an unimpressive wingspan.

Flying to the left of the Hideous Zippleback the twins had named Barf and Belch was the bulky brown rocklike dragon with small wings beating ridiculously fast to keep himself and his rider airborne. Like Grump, the dragon had a large head but unlike the other Boulder-class dragon, his nose was blunt, and yellow eyes were not on either side of his face. Two ear-wings perched on top of the rock dragon’s head which was the only distinguishing feature that kept Vikings from mistaking the dragon's head for its clubbed tail.

Across from Meatlug, the Gronckle, was Toothless, who landed next to the tall birdlike teal dragon with a large, curved horn for a nose and an overbite. Upon the three new arrivals’ landing, the Deadly Nadder got to her two feet using her winged forelimbs to give her a little extra help. Shaking her head, yellow spikes surrounding the dragon’s skull flared out along with the spines covering her tail before all the spines and spikes returned to lying flat.

Stormfly turned her small yet keen yellow eyes towards the newcomers and chirped in greeting to the rest of her pack. Hookfang, on the other hand, just grunted and laid back down, returning to his nap and ignoring everyone. The Head of the Dragon Academy shook his head—it still bemused the young Viking how the dragons’ personalities reflected those of their riders’—and dismounted. Fishlegs followed suit but didn’t have such an easy time, almost falling out of Meatlug’s saddle—his trouble arising from the new long sword strapped to the heavyset Viking’s side.

Turning around, the Gronckle rider wavered at the two faces mere inches from his own.

“Wow, look at that sword,” Ruffnut breathed out and reached out to touch the shiny weapon. She was shoved out of the way by her brother before the blonde could lay a single finger on the blade.

Crouching down to inspect the sword, Tuffnut idly scratched some of the drying mud off his face. “Hey, isn’t this the one Gobber made? He wouldn’t allow me to touch it! How’d you get it?”

“Did you have to kill him for it?” the blonde exuberantly asked, ramming her shoulder into Tuffnut’s side.

“No! I didn’t kill Gobber,” Fishlegs viciously shook his head in denial before pulling the weapon out and proudly showing off his new sword. “It’s the very first sword Gobber made from the Gronckle Iron and he gave it to me as a gift.”

“Let me have it,” Ruffnut demanded, making a lunge for the weapon only for her brother to jostle her out of the way.

“No, I saw it first,” her twin shouted, readying himself to fight for the sword. They were stopped before a brawl could break out when Hiccup walked in between the two and held both hands up to keep the twins from attacking one another.

“Guys, guys focus,” the chief’s son tried to calm both of them down. Once he was sure they weren’t going to attack each other or Fishlegs, only then did Hiccup drop his arms and look to the two for answers. “Want to tell me why Barf and Belch brought us here?”

“Oh, because Astrid and Snotlout are kissing in the tree,” Tuffnut grumbled, using the end of his vest to wipe the rest of the mud off his face and with his free hand, pointed up into the trees.

“We are not!” Astrid's scandalized shout drew the new arrivals’ attention upwards. There, they caught sight of the missing Academy members dangling high up in the tree. “This idiot set off the trap and got us both stuck up here. Those two idiots won’t get us down.”

“Like I said, we can’t damage Wyldfae Hollow!” Tuffnut protested, defensively crossing his arms over his chest.

“Pixie Hollow,” Ruffnut amended, mirroring her brother’s stance.

“What?” the blond Viking shouted, head snapping towards his sister while making wild hand gestures. “I thought we just went over this? Is it Pixie Hollow for the Pixies or is it Wyldfae Hollow for the Wyldfae?”

“Neither, it is Pixie Hollow for the Wyldfae. Mostly the Dewdrop Faeries and the Wee Folk to be precise,” Jackson clarified, pushing a low-hanging tree branch to the side to enter the clearing from the opposite direction the village lay in.

“That makes complete sense,” Tuffnut nodded. He then turned his head towards the other members of the Academy and not so subtly stage-whispered to them. “It really doesn’t.”

“But this isn’t Pixie Hollow’s Home Tree,” Jackson patted the tree trunk, making it unclear if he had overheard the blond’s comment or not. “Although, the Hamadryad sure appreciates you preventing the dragons from burning her.”

“What are you blabbering on about? Just get us down!” Snotlout bellowed throwing a tantrum and getting a boot to the face for his trouble.

“Hang on a second,” the brunet dismissed the trapped Viking, busy taking off his bearskin blanket and folding it neatly. He placed the pelt under the tree before walking away, adjusting the blue—which Hiccup could have sworn were white at the festival—arm warmers on both hands as he went.

“And what is a hiccup like you going to do about it?” Snotlout scoffed.

Jackson, pulling his staff out from under his arm, did an about-face and eyed the distance between him and the tree. He took off at a dead run towards a tree parallel to the one the two teenagers were stuck in and then ran up said tree. When he started to lose momentum, the brunet pushed off and his right foot pressed up against the tree the dangling duo was trapped in before pushing off again. He continued to go up the tree that way until he was five feet away from the nearest low-hanging branch.

With one last push, the brunet did a backflip over the top of the limb. His staff hooked around the tree branch, preventing him from flying too far out. The momentum and the staff had Jackson swinging back underneath the branch and up. The crook was dislodged, and the slip of a boy landed on the thick tree branch in a low crouch.

Amber eyes looked up, calculating the distance and weighing his options before Jackson launched himself on and upwards once more. From there, it was only a combination of jumps and swings that had the brunet seated on the high-rise branch the Netter Trap was strung from. Jackson eyed the trap, looking for a way to release it. Shrugging his shoulders, the brunet reached into his boot and pulled out a dagger.

“Heads up!” the boy called out and promptly cut the rope.

Stormfly let out a chirp and took flight. The Deadly Nadder easily caught Astrid in her talons and set her rider down on the ground where Hiccup met her, concerned for the shieldmaiden’s wellbeing. He was appeased with a smile from the blonde teenager which sent blood rushing to his cheeks. Snotlout, on the other hand, tumbled headfirst into one of the few snowdrifts that hadn’t melted. His cursing was muffled by the snow which liquefied thanks to Hookfang’s small puff of fire. 

“Thanks, Jackson!” Ruffnut called out through cupped hands.

“Yeah, thanks,” Tuffnut yelled up at the boy, waving a hand high above his head. The brunet sat down on the thick branch and waved back.

“No problem,” Jackson nodded as he swung his feet back and forth. The winds wafted through the trees, ruffling his messy hair as well as catching two green and yellow flowers in their grasp. Drifting down, the flowers landed on the twins’ helmets. Where they came from was a mystery since new growth had barely begun, yet there they were. Jackson laughed joyously as the two picked the flowers off their helmets and studied them with wide blue eyes. “The Hamadryad says thank you too.”

“What are you talking about, it’s only a stupid tree,” Snotlout growled, wringing the water out of his vest. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a branch fell on top of his head. Whirling around, he looked for the culprit before looking up and spotting Jackson trying desperately to stifle his laughter, and pointed at the brunet. “Hey! Who threw that? It was you, wasn’t it?!”

“Uh, Snotlout,” Fishlegs hesitantly spoke up, raising a finger, “he hasn’t thrown anything. The branch just fell.”

“You insulted the Hamadryad. She was getting payback,” Ruffnut pointed out inattentively, her attention clearly divided. Else she would have been rolling on the ground laughing at the burly Viking’s misfortune. As it was, the majority of her focus was directed towards studying the flower currently held delicately in her hands.

“Yeah, payback,” Tuffnut agreed only because it was his sister. He was too preoccupied with his flower, holding it up towards the sky and cautiously sniffing it. Blue eyes widened before taking a much deeper breath with his nose pressed up against the flower and let out a content sigh.

“Oh, for the love of Odin! Do you really believe all this?” Snotlout snarled, erratically waving his hands around.

“Well,” Astrid shrugged and crossed her arms. She couldn’t say she believed in whatever the twins and the foreigner were spouting off. Then again, it was annoying Snotlout, which only left her with one choice. “The branch did drop right on your head.”

“You guys believe me, don’t you? That this kid is just making things up,” Snotlout rounded on Fishlegs and Hiccup. He was promptly pelted with a snowball. “Hey!”

“Now that was me,” Jackson confirmed; staff under his arm as he packed more snow into another ball.

“Why you! You wanna play that way? Huh, fine then! I'll just hold on to this then,” Snotlout snarled, snatching the black pelt from the base of the tree and wrapping it around his shoulders. Jackson didn’t seem to be paying him any heed. His head was turned to the side and the snowball was threatening to fall from limp fingers. “Why don’t you get down here and try that again? Yeah, that's what I thought—"

“Shut up,” the foreigner snapped, his tone no longer holding a playful lilt to it. Rather, it was harsh and sharp, demanding compliance. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Fishlegs tentatively asked, looking around nervously as if waiting for someone to jump out at them at any second.

Toothless perked up, sitting up straight while his ear-plates twisted every which way before finally settling in one direction. The other dragons were swift to follow the Night Fury’s example, all sitting up straight and alert. A harsh gust of wind rushed through the trees, blowing just right which allowed the dragons’ riders to hear what they and Jackson had already picked up: shouts of distress and terrified screams.

“Let’s go,” Hiccup commanded rushing towards Toothless’s side but Jackson was faster and already in motion. Controlling his rapid descent, Jackson used gravity to hasten his trip down while his staff moderated his speed before the auburn-haired teenager opened his mouth. The brunet had touched the ground as the last Viking mounted their dragon. Leaning down, the chief’s son patted the Night Fury’s head. “Lead the way, Bud.”

Toothless roared and launched himself into the air, heading in the direction Jackson had already taken off in, easily overtaking the brunet. The others followed Toothless’s lead, and they soon arrived at the top of the rocky cliffs intertwined with one of the numerous glaciers scattered around Berk. It was the same glacier the members of the Academy had followed Hamish the Second’s clues to last year and had inadvertently caused a large chunk of the glacier to break off, only to crash into the ocean below. Since then, the newly flattened surface had become a popular place for the children to ice skate on while the adults took turns monitoring the children in case of emergencies.

Today, two adults were supervising the children. The first was a tall Viking with a long blond beard and a hook for a right hand. He wore a brown deerskin vest over the top of a long-sleeved, faded green tinted tunic and grey scalemail kilt armor affixed to a leather belt. It was the bucket on his head that made the blond easily identified as Bucket, a daft Viking with a soft heart.

Behind Bucket, was his ever-present friend Mulch; a short, fat man wearing a green shirt with his upper chest covered in dull scalemail and striped red and tan pants. The shorter man’s golden-brown beard obscured most of his face save for his eyes and a large nose. He too had a missing right arm with a hook in its place, but he wore a helmet with four horns—a pair of ox horns and two nubs of sheep horns—instead of a bucket.

What worried Hiccup was the large gaping hole in the middle of the glacier and the spiderweb cracks spreading outward from it. Multiple children were still on the ice, either wobbling on their skates or sprawled out on their hands and knees, not daring to stand back up. Some of the screams came from the children on solid ground standing behind Bucket and Mulch calling for their friends and siblings while the other cries came from the terrified children endangered by the collapsing glacier.

Hiccup briefly wondered why the two adults weren’t helping, but it soon became apparent when one of the older children tried to step on the glacier. The ice cracked under the boy’s foot before caving in underneath the weight. It was only thanks to Bucket’s quick reflexes, grabbing the child’s clothing, and yanking him back that the kid didn’t fall into the newly formed hole.

“Guys,” Hiccup commanded gaining all the riders’ attention. “Rescue mission. Snotlout, fly back to the village and tell them what is going on, have them prepare to treat injuries.”

“Hookfang, you heard the man.” Snotlout bellowed, turning the Monstrous Nightmare back towards the village and taking off.

“Astrid, Fishlegs; rescue the kids on the ice, but don’t land. It’s too dangerous,” the Head of the Academy directed the two highly skilled fliers.

“On it,” was Astrid’s brisk reply before heading for the girl closest to the large gaping hole.

“Roger,” Fishlegs nodded and directed Meatlug towards the edge of the glacier where the more daring of the Viking children skated.

“Ruffnut, Tuffnut, help Bucket and Mulch keep the other children on the rocks back and away from the ice,” Hiccup pointed towards the kids throwing themselves against the older Vikings’ arms in a desperate attempt to help. Yet they were only making things worse, adding more weight to the cracking ice.

“We’re on it,” the twins spoke as one, already turning Barf and Belch around to head over to the glacier’s edge. The Hideous Zippleback quickly took position hovering over the ice where their heads could easily pick up the young Vikings, who were able to slip passed Bucket and Mulch, by the back of their clothing before returning them to solid land.

Turning Toothless towards the ice, Hiccup assisted Astrid and Fishlegs in collecting the kids. Getting the first kid to shore turned out to be a bit of a hassle since the little boy didn’t have the upper body strength needed to pull himself up onto the Night Fury’s back. Hiccup was little help in that department, unable to turn around in fear of dislodging his foot from the mechanism for Toothless’s prosthetic—they would all be in trouble then—and his own lack of upper body strength was abysmal at best.

Still, he managed to help the child to safety and two more before the inevitable happened. The ice which had been silent up until that point gave an ominous groan. The few children still spread out on the ice gave frightened screams as their counterparts on the shore began hollering and crying for the Academy members to do something, to move faster.

“Hurry it up you guys,” Astrid warned as she flew over towards a brunet.

Hiccup agreed and picked up the pace. Dropping off the last two siblings he collected, the auburn-haired teenager scanned the ice for anyone else. Fishlegs was in the process of rescuing two little girls nearest the edge of the glacier and Astrid was preoccupied with pulling a small boy onto Stormfly’s back which was why neither of them noticed what vivid green eyes did. For there, kneeling on the ice next to the single remaining girl in danger was Jackson.

He was a yak’s breath away from yelling at Jackson for the sheer stupidity of running onto the fragile ice when it was clear they were evacuating it. However, the Dragon Rider held his tongue. It was hard to yell at the brunet when he was endeavoring to pull the dark-haired child’s foot from where it had gone through the ice. Flying closer, Hiccup saw the blood on the foreigner’s fingers first, the red staining the child’s ankle second, and only then did he hear the distinct silvery tones of Jackson’s voice as he sought to keep the girl calm.

“You’re being very brave, just keep it up and we’ll be off the ice in a jiffy,” Jackson coaxed while working to enlarge the hole to safely remove the child’s foot without injuring her further by breaking off small chunks of ice piece by piece.

“Jackson, I’m scared,” the girl hiccupped in between sobs.

The brunet stiffened and slowly looked up into tearful light green eyes. “I… I know, I know, but you're gonna be alright. You're not gonna fall in.”

“Promise?” the girl questioned softly, tilting her head to the side and allowing the Dragon Rider a better view of her face. Hiccup recognized her instantly. She had been the child sitting in Jackson’s lap when he stumbled upon the foreigner entertaining Berk’s children with stories.

“Would I trick you?” Jackson gave a small heartening grin, only for the child to let loose a pitiful sob. “Hey now. I promise, I promise you're gonna be… you're gonna be fine. Ya hafta believe in me.”

“I do,” the dark-haired child sniffled, and much to the auburn-haired teenager’s surprise, the brunet managed to pull the girl’s foot free.

“There, now let’s get you off the ice,” the foreigner said with such relief it was hard to miss.

“Best hurry,” Hiccup called out, gaining Jackson and the girl’s attention. The Dragon Rider nudged the Night Fury lower, so they were within arm’s reach of one another. “Hand her here and then I’ll help you up.”

Nodding, Jackson picked up the dark-haired child along with his crook and hosted the kid towards Hiccup’s waiting arms. The Head of the Academy seized the girl’s hands, bumping into the staff which was offered up as well. Hiccup was glad the piece of wood was there a moment later when the child almost fell and caught herself on the staff during the transfer. Once the Dragon Rider was sure he had a tight hold on the dark-haired, green-eyed girl in his arms, he turned to Jackson.

The offered hand came too late for the brunet. He could only watch in horror as the ice caved in under the brunet’s feet and amber eyes widened in fear, quickly followed by realization, and finally acceptance flashed through the expressive orbs. Hiccup’s own horror grew as Jackson fell into a dark abyss below the icy surface. Toothless reared back and for a split second, the chief’s son thought he saw some things rush out from the hole. However, he was too preoccupied with staying on the thrashing dragon and keeping ahold of the child to pay too much attention to shadows.

Toothless jerked downwards, as if there was something yanking him down and the screams of the girl filled his ears when they became weightless for a split second. Then there were talons digging into his shoulders but not deep enough to puncture the fur of his vest. Hiccup didn’t need to look up to recognize the claws belonging to Stormfly as she lifted him and the child in his arms up to safety. No, his and another smaller pair of green eyes were fixated on the abyss that had swallowed two lives. A moment later, the ice collapsed in on itself and there was no way to get either back.

TOOTHLESS!

Chapter 9: A Galleon Lies Below

Notes:

Huh, so there is a good reason why this is late. The first being that me and Pepper Potts from Iron Man share something in common, we're allergic to strawberries and cross-contamination sucks. The second being is I hit the wrong button and saved, but didn't post on Thursday. I was just starting to wonder why no one was reviewing and thought the chapter wasn't any good when I noticed the mistake. Hence, the really late chapter. Yeah, that's my life. I'm thinking I should just update on Fridays from now on instead.

Chapter Text

Jack had a horrible sense of déjà vu as he ran onto the cracking ice. It was nothing in comparison with falling through said cracking ice. He had instinctually taken a deep breath and held it, expecting to feel the freezing cold water enveloping him at any minute. It was only when something collided with his ribs that the teen gasped out, releasing his breath. From there, he was thrown every which way as the ice collapsed in around him, tossing him like a ragdoll.

He didn’t know when he hit the ground, but Jack knew when the cave-in had settled as the world around him was no longer spinning and the ringing in his ears was replaced with silence. It felt like an eternity and once he was absolutely sure nothing else was going to fall, the ex-spirit took account of his body. Other than a few bumps and bruises, he was relatively unharmed, which meant he hadn’t fallen as far as he first assumed. Even better, his left hand was still tightly clutching his staff; so, with his right hand, he wriggled it down between his body and the ice and pushed up.

The ice underneath his hands didn’t budge, but the comparatively thin slabs on his back began to move as Jack pushed himself up and the ice at his back slid off, falling to the ground. He took a moment to reorient himself, the distinct lack of light making it nearly impossible and put him on edge. The Guardian of Fun didn’t do well in the dark. Not since Pitch imprisoned him on Easter. He strained to keep his breathing even and calm, but it kept speeding up and it had nothing to do with how terrified he was of the dark.

No, Jack's fear stemmed from the fall. More specifically, at the point where he'd collided with something as it rushed up into him. Something very much alive and very much malevolent. Whatever the creature was, it felt a lot like Pitch did and that scared the ex-spirit. He didn’t have his frosty abilities; neither did he have the other Guardians for backup. His only consolation was the creature hadn’t made it out of the glacier due to him crashing into it. It wasn’t that much of a consolation as it meant the creature was still in there with him.

The Guardian could still feel the malevolent entity, but he didn’t know where the thing was which had his heart rate spiking. Getting his feet under him and remaining in a crouched position close to the ground, Jack switched his staff to his right hand and reached back into his pouch. Rummaging around in the small space, he eventually felt the soft cotton cloth he was searching for. The brunet pulled it out and used his thumb to unravel the ragged folded cloth. Gentle rays of light emanated from within, shining freely.

Folded sunshine.

It was one of the many new memories Jack recalled about his life as Jackson Overland, a boy growing up in a freshly established settlement. Subsequent to becoming human once again, a few memories had spilled over. However, after the re-emergence of the memory brought about by the auburn-haired boy and his dragon, it was like a dam broke and more and more of Jackson Overland's memories returned. It was something that Jack found strange; as an immortal, a few memories were recovered over the year since he had touched his tooth box and they were sporadic at best. Yet, on Berk, he remembered something new about his past and his family every few days.

He'd cried when he remembered his mother’s name: Kári.

With said memory came the lesson she’d been teaching him at the time. How to fold sunshine. Jack had dropped the mace he had been polishing for Gobber when the memory reemerged and searched the blacksmith’s hut for a piece of cloth. He found a few scraps and got to work on folding sunshine. It had taken a few attempts, but he managed to capture a sliver of the sun’s power in the cloth and the result was much appreciated as the rays lit the dark space.

With the light, the ex-spirit found himself perched on a narrow and jagged ledge about ten feet off the ground. He couldn’t see very far due to a combination of rocks and ice obstructing his view but even then, the darkness felt like it was inching closer. A flash of black out of the corner of his eye had Jack jerking his head towards the left, his fear skyrocketing as a hand tightened on his staff preparing to fight off the malevolent entity. Only for the ex-spirit to fall backwards when a large black head popped up as claws dug into the ice in an attempt to climb up onto the ledge.

“Gah!”

The black menace let out his own screech as he slid backwards, skidding back towards the ice below.

“Don’t do that!” Jack automatically reprimanded the creature as one of his hands came up to cover his pounding heart. Another screech from the dragon had the brunet crawling to the edge and peering over to see the agitated black menace pacing back and forth, gazing upwards. Jack looked at the dragon and pondered out loud. “How’d you get here? And where’s your rider?”

Another desperate attempt to get on the ledge the Guardian currently rested on had the dragon hitting the ground harder than before.

“Okay, he’s up top,” the brunet inferred, wincing at the loud roars coming from the clearly agitated dragon. It was around that time that he remembered Gustav gushing on and on about The Dragon Riders of Berk—he could just hear the capital letters in the child’s excitement—when he’d asked the children to tell him a few stories of their own. The young Viking spoke mainly about Snotlout Jorgenson and the dragon Hookfang, but the other children added in tidbits about the other Dragon Riders. “But how are you down here without him? You’re the one that can’t fly without him, right?”

This time, when the dragon tried to crawl on the ledge, his swipe barely missed Jack.

“Hey now!” the Guardian of Fun scooted back as a precaution. The black menace’s claws were really sharp, they had dug gouges into the ice already and Jack didn’t want to see what they could do to human flesh. “Oh Manny, don’t I wish you made me able to speak Dragonese, this would have been a whole lot easier otherwise.”

After a few more attempts from the black menace, the dragon gave up climbing onto the ledge and just prowled back and forth below. Jack tentatively crawled forward and peered down cautiously. Deciding the likelihood of him becoming a convenient target for the dragon was slightly lower than before, the ex-spirit hung his legs over the edge and ran a hand through his hair.

Catching acid green eyes with his own, the Guardian leaned forward. “Okay, listen up—Toothless, is it?—we’re stuck in here, together, for the time being. The way we came in, we aren’t going out, even if either one of us could fly; the opening is no longer an option. The cave-in made sure of that. My sunshine will last for some time as long as I don’t open the cloth all at once, but it won’t last forever; the best chance we have is to work together to find another way out. Sounds good?”

Toothless gave one final roar before turning his back on him. Where the dragon was headed, Jack didn’t know but that didn’t keep amber eyes from rolling at the black menace’s attitude. With a huff of his own, the ex-spirit tied the folded sunshine to his staff and swung down. Landing on the icy surface—slipping only a little—Jack followed the creature. Trekking through the bulging pathway which compressed into tiny passageways only to open back up again, the Guardian couldn’t get the feeling they were being watched out of his mind. He kept a close eye on Toothless, but the creature didn’t seem to feel the same way. What the brunet assumed were the dragon’s ears would twitch occasionally in his direction, but they never seemed to notice anything else in the glacier.

The folded sunshine started to flicker in and out after what Jack estimated to be two to three hours of walking and climbing over ice chunks, searching for a way out. They had doubled back a few times since then. Running into dead-ends and entering loops which took them around and around in circles. The teenager approximated it was probably late into the evening, given it had been an hour or so after the midday meal when he had stumbled upon the Dragon Riders stuck in the tree.

To put it short, Jack was tired.

Folding the sunshine to conserve what little remained; Jack used his staff to slowly lower himself to the ground. The grimace that flashed across his face was a poorly conceived attempt to hold back the moan of pain resonating through his whole body when he went to sit. His muscles tightened, making him aware of some new pains he hadn’t been conscious of after the fall. There were additional pains in places he didn’t even know existed. Even through the sound of his own creaks, the Guardian could hear Toothless grunt at the sudden lack of light and he had the feeling the dragon was glaring at him through the darkened cavern.

“I’m tired, and I am going to rest. If you don’t like it, you can go on without me,” the immortal teenager breathed out in sheer exhaustion.

It was quiet for a stretch of time. Jack started to think the dragon had gone on without him when a high-pitched whine filled the air. A burst of light came from what the brunet assumed was Toothless's direction, striking one of the various rocks peppering the path. The rock glowed from the intense heat, giving off a slight light but not as much as the folded sunshine had produced. Be that as it may, it allowed Jack to see to some extent, even if it was just barely. “Thanks.”

The ex-spirit sat in silence, soaking up the warmth from the rock. When he was moving, Jack could ignore the chill of the ice around him. Now though, he couldn’t ignore the temperature and really wished he had his fur pelt. The rock helped to an extent, keeping the frostbite at bay. Nonetheless, the former wielder of ice and frost was—ironically—freezing.

Setting his staff aside, Jack reached into his rear pouch and put the folded sunshine back while retrieving the little he carried on his person. Currently, he had some preserved fish wrapped in a piece of cloth. Initially, the fish was supposed to be his lunch, but Periwinkle and some of the other Dewdrop Faeries gave him some fresh fruits—and where the fresh food had come from, they weren’t telling—for something to snack on. The Guardian barely had enough time to unwrap the fish before Toothless snatched it from the material, hungrily gobbling the small portion down.

“I’m not in the mood for this,” the brunet shook his head too tired to be angry. He was drained, in pain, and hungry and now there was nothing he could do about the latter. He could do something about the former of which and laid down on the frozen ground, turning away from the dragon as the last of the glow from the rock faded away. “I was going to share anyways.”

Unbeknownst to the immortal teenager, Toothless froze at the softly spoken words. Acid green eyes easily found the small human he had stolen food from not once but twice now and black ear-plates wilted. His night vision made him all too aware of the shivers raking through the brunet as the human subconsciously curled into himself. It didn’t seem to help as the tremors became worse and the black menace lowered his head in shame.

Cautiously, the dragon crept over to the small human and circled around Jack to find the boy was already asleep. Circling the brunet a few more times, Toothless laid down next to the shivering human and covered the boy’s body with his wing. After a moment, the trembling dwindled and his breathing became easier.


Jack bolted awake at Toothless’s roar. His hand automatically reached for the staff at his side as amber orbs tried in vain to locate the dragon in the dark. A blast of fire narrowly missed his head, but it gave the ex-spirit enough light to see the dragon fighting against some incorporeal black mass. Another blast from Toothless hit a rock, heating it up and lighting up the immediate vicinity, allowing Jack to get a better look at the black thing the dragon was battling.

The creature had an indistinct, shadow-like figure for a body that seemingly shifted as a flame would, never holding a defining shape save for a single feature: a tricorne hat. A pirate hat. That alone had a sinking suspicion welling up inside Jack.

Sandy wove tales about beings traversing the Sea of Stars on airships, chasing down and extinguishing any and all Shooting Stars they set their sights on. The Guardian of Dreams indicated the only crewed ship of the creatures to have traveled so far had been lost when Manny’s ship, the Moon Clipper, was damaged. Yet, the creature Toothless was battling bore a striking resemblance to the golden figures of the Dream Pirates the Sandman had created during his story.

“Get down,” the Guardian of Fun yelled. Thankfully Toothless listened and lowered his body to the ground.

Jack launched himself over the dragon and with both hands clenching the staff, he swung. The diagonal downwards motion sliced through what the brunet thought to be a Dream Pirate’s body from shoulder to hip. His forward momentum had Jack barreling into the upper half of the creature, knocking it to the ground. The eternal teen wasted no time in driving the end of his staff into the creature’s arm, preventing it from lashing out.

“Toothless, blast that half before it can reform,” Jack shouted, fighting to keep the thrashing upper half of the creature down and barely avoiding the sword being swung wildly about in the process. From what he remembered from Sandy’s stories, the creatures could, for a lack of a better analogy, stitch themselves back together if given the opportunity.

The dragon’s claws dug into the ice as a ball of bluish-white light formed in his mouth before incinerating the Dream Pirate’s lower extremities.

“Great, now take care of the rest of him,” the brunet grunted, grabbing the Dream Pirate by the shoulders and rolling forward. When the creature was above him, he let go of the shadow-like figure and kicked it into the air. Another blast finished the Dream Pirate off.

Breathing heavily with a growing smile forming on Jack’s face, hysterical laughter bubbled out of his throat. “Oh good, it actually worked. That was close. Too close.”

Toothless hesitantly inched towards the frantic teenager. Acid green eyes searching for any lingering fragments from the creature and when he found none, his attention turned towards the brunet who was still chuckling, yet the laughter had lost its hysterical edge. A nudge from his nose had Jack pushing the dragon’s face away to give him enough room to sit up.

“I’m alright. No harm, how about you?” the eternal teenager began looking the dragon over. Toothless didn’t look like he had any injuries. There was no blood to speak of and it looked like the dragon had lost only a few black scales, but the ex-spirit couldn’t be too sure if they had been lost in the fall or the fight. “Thanks for the help. But that seemed a little bit too easy. Sandy said they were nigh indestructible, relentless creatures and that wasn’t nearly as hard as it should have been.”

As Jack spoke, the light from the rock grew dim and they were slowly being plunged into darkness. Not that neither dragon nor immortal teenager noticed. They did, however, notice the sound of wind being parted as something flew through the air at incredible speeds which had both of them moving as one out of the way. Only then did Jack take notice of the waning light as he was plunged into darkness once more and something brushed up against his leg.

A pained screech came from Toothless that had the Guardian scrambling to find the dragon, the lack of visibility making it impossible. Fumbling around in the dark for a moment, Jack cursed at his own stupidity as he dug around his pouch and produced the folded sunshine. This time, he didn’t carefully unwrap the light and let little rays of sunshine out a bit at a time. No, this time he flung the cloth open with one fluid motion.

The light, though almost gone, still held the same blinding capacity of the sun when released all at once. Jack had a moment to see a much larger shadow-like creature pinning the dragon to the ground—the pirate’s longsword positioned to strike a blow—before he was forced to shield his eyes. For a few moments, he just stood there, eyes covered by the crook of his arm and then he felt Toothless nudge his side. Slowly, he lowered his arm as the light died and in the few seconds of visibility, he bore witness to the frozen form of a Dream Pirate burning away.

“I think it’s time we got out of here,” Jack breathed out as they were bathed in the darkness once more. He did not want to find out if the age-old adage ‘the third time’s the charm’ was true or not.

A responding growl was all the approval the ex-spirit needed for them to get going.

Together, they traveled down the uneven pathway the deteriorating glacier had to offer. Jack relied on his staff and, surprisingly enough, Toothless for guidance through the black abyss. He wasn't sure how the dragon did so, but Toothless could navigate in the dark and thanks to the constant rumbles he made, Jack's fear of the pitch-black darkness was held at bay. Finally, a cool breeze hit his face and he could tell they'd reached a large cavern. With any luck, there could be a way out if the breeze was anything to go by.

“Can you light it up?” Jack asked holding his hand out and feeling around blindly.

Toothless complied, shooting a blast upwards where it exploded before it could strike the ceiling. The burst of light briefly illuminated the large chamber, reflecting off the surface of the englacial lake and highlighting the twisted wreckage frozen in time. Amber eyes darted over the ship's multiple massive black sails nearly torn to shreds and rotting ropes dangling uselessly from the various masts. Most of the ship was encrusted in the glacier, only the bow of the boat was free of the icy hold and dangling above the water. However, the lettering on the stern—which was hard to make out but still legible—and the ice blocks scattered about the bow and a few surrounding the ship were what had Jack standing stock-still.

It was the Nightmare Galleon and her crew of Dream Pirates.

“Okay, this is much worse,” the Guardian of Fun lamented flatly while his mind was a race.

The Nightmare Galleon. The ship that had not only given chase to the Moon Clipper but also managed to catch and crippled the Lunanoff's prized flagship only to never be heard of again. The ship that not even Manny knew what became of according to Sandy's tale. Pitch Black's vessel which was currently imprisoned in ice and it just so happens that Jack is the unfortunate soul to find it? Accidentally.

His luck sucked. Big time.

“The earlier tremor must have freed the Dream Pirates we dealt with, that was why they were weak,” the ex-spirit theorized, eyes wearily traveling down from the top of the mass towering over him to the little blocks of ice containing a few of the pirates. With the eye of a former wielder of ice, Jack could hazard a good guess on what had transpired. 

The Nightmare Galleon, damaged from its confrontation with the Moon Clipper, was forced to land. A scouting party had already made landfall and returned for reinforcements going off of the large group of ice-covered pirates near the lake's edge. They hadn’t gotten far before a freak snowstorm or, more likely, something—maybe one of the Norse deities or an overprotective Dís—froze them in their tracks.

The number of blocks split, cracked open and their occupants missing had the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck standing on end.

“We need to go, now,” and as Jack’s luck would have it that was the exact moment when the lingering light faded.

A shiver went down his spine at the turn of events and even more worryingly was that Jack swore the shadowy pirates shifted in their tombs. It was almost like the Dream Pirates were not only awake but aware inside those blocks of ice. The thought unnerved the Guardian more than he would like to admit and he took a further step backwards, away from those eyes. Eyes which trailed after him.

A whine Jack was becoming familiar with had the brunet spinning around to find blue light emanating from the dragon as a blast built up in his throat. An attack directed towards the nearest of the pirates.

“No, don’t!

He was too late; the blast hit the block head-on and shards of ice flew everywhere. At first, nothing happened, the Dream Pirate inside had a giant hole through it and the soft glow from its eyes faded. The ex-spirit held his breath hoping none of his fears would come to fruition. Slowly, however, the hole through the pirate sluggishly began to stitch itself back together while eyes blazing with light snapped open before vanishing into the darkness.

“Crap.”

The single word was all Jack could get out before he was thrown backwards by sheer force. He heard Toothless roar and fire a few more shots which sounded suspiciously like more blocks being broken but he was too overwhelmed to do anything about it. Jack wasn’t overwhelmed enough to roll out of the way when he heard the air parting for something that sounded suspiciously like a blade, the tip just grazing his ear. Instinctually, the Guardian whipped out his crook and swung blindly, throwing himself into the fray.

Yet, he couldn’t hit what he couldn’t see.

The only chance the immortal teenager had to attack the Dream Pirates was when Toothless fired off a blast. With the brief bursts of light, Jack made every second count. Beating back the ever-growing number of pirates surrounding him, he sliced several of them into various pieces. It was just his luck the blasts were few and far between. Toothless mostly used his claws, teeth, and tail to fight against the shadowy beings which left the brunet on the defense. Together, they weren’t making a dent in the number of Dream Pirates as the malevolent entities continued to reform themselves after each blow.

“Toothless, now would be a good time for another one of those blasts of yours,” Jack gritted out, struggling to hold his staff currently held with both hands horizontally as various unseen pirates rammed against the piece of wood. One claw came dangerously close to his head, pulling a few strands of brown hair from his scalp. The whine of the dragon’s blast began to build up which was music to the ex-spirit’s ears but with no ensuing blast, his stomach dropped. “What’s going on? Shouldn’t there be a boom? We really need a boom.”

A distress whine came from the dragon and Jack had the feeling Toothless was in just as much trouble as he was himself. Another attempt had a glow forming but the building blast was feeble at best. The blue glow cast enough light for Jack to catch sight of the Dream Pirates surrounding Toothless. His tail whipped out and severed some of the more daring ones’ feet from their ankles, but it did little good as the group around the dragon grew larger and, inch by inch, closed the gap between them and Toothless. One pirate got in a lucky blow which had the meager forming blast dispersing harmlessly.

With strength he didn’t know he had, Jack shoved his staff forward with a roar of desperation. The unbalanced pirates tumbled backwards, hitting the ground hard, as he darted past them and into the darkness. He was forced to rely on his other senses to guide him towards where he’d last seen Toothless as his eyes were useless. The Dream Pirates made no sound themselves, no heartbeats or breathing to pinpoint their location, but they couldn’t conceal the sound of their movements. 

The whistling of swords cutting through the air and the scuffle of feet against the icy ground were hard to miss, making it easy for the ex-spirit to weave through the malevolent entities, ducking and dodging their blades. Jack wasn’t completely successful at avoiding all the pirates since he rammed into a few of the putrid-smelling creatures along the way. However, it also gave him an idea of his current location and with a guess of where he thought Toothless to be, the Guardian swung his crook with as much strength as he could muster.

“Why don’t you leave him alone and pick on someone your own size?” the immortal teenager bellowed.

He was astonished when his staff actually connected with at least two Dream Pirates. He was even more surprised when they were all that stood between him and the cool scaly side of Toothless when he knew there had to have been more than two dozen surrounding the dragon at last glimpse. Not one to question his luck, the brunet shifted on his heels, placing his back against the dragon’s.

“Now what do we do?” Jack groaned as something hit his ankle causing his leg to buckle but didn’t collapse. “No offense Toothless, but I really wish it were either Bunny or Sandy here with me, they would know what to do.  They're the ones from the Golden Age. Me? I have no idea. We need help here.”

A soft golden glow from the corner of his eye had the ex-spirit glancing towards Toothless, hoping beyond all hope the dragon had recovered enough to produce a few more of his blasts. Yet, the light wasn’t coming from Toothless. It was coming from his rear pouch. With a shaky hand, he reached in and pulled out a second piece of fabric holding the sun’s rays at bay. A scrap of material Jack swore up and down he had left at Gobber’s hut. Not caring how the piece of cloth got into his pouch, the ex-spirit didn’t waste any time in completely unfurling the folded sunshine.

The intensity of the sun blasted out of the cloth, swirling out and caressing the immortal teenager and the black dragon before surging forward, eating away at the Dream Pirates encircling them. It disintegrated the pirates closest to the trapped duo and tore the shadowy beings further back apart. However, when the light extended to a ten-foot radius around Jack, it seemed to stop. Amber eyes widened and fumbled with the cloth trying to get the material to release more light, yet none was forthcoming.

There was no more sunshine to be had.

“No, please no,” Jack begged desperately, sinking to his knees, “we need more light!”

The rays of sunlight began to recede and the Dream Pirates who had survived by scattering back followed the diminishing threat back towards its origin. Their intentions to eliminate the wielder of said threat once and for all were telegraphed with every move they made. Blades scrapped up against each other, making a distinct sound as the shadow creatures came nearer and nearer. Toothless let out an alarmed whine, moving closer to the teenager, his tail wrapping around the two of them. Jack didn’t perceive any of this, eyes scrunched closed as tight as possible as he kept mumbling incoherently under his breath.

“We need more light,” the ex-spirit spoke quietly.

The sunlight froze two feet away from the epicenter, still enveloping the duo entirely in their folds, but wavering. For a moment, the sunshine appeared to be conflicted, not sure what to do. It receded back a few inches before surging outwards by the same degree, fighting to spread forward only to lose the battle and shrink in size once more. The light in the cloth had been depleted and yet it was drawing on Jack’s desire to protect and his need to eradicate the Dream Pirates to keep itself alight.

“We need more light!” Jack shouted, eyes snapping open. However, they were no longer their mortal amber color, neither were they the icy blue of winter. No, they blazed gold, the same gold that flowed into the sunshine and exploded outward. The radiance raced out—filling the cavern while harmlessly bathing Toothless in its golden glow—flowing across the glacier lake's surface and crashing into the Nightmare Galleon. It eradicated all the Dream Pirates in its path and hungrily devoured the vessel, breaking apart the ship plank by plank.

The light didn’t stop with the destruction of the Galleon and its fleeing crew. It kept going further and further. Searching for a way out and when the light couldn’t find one, it made one. Fracturing the glacier, the light breaking it apart.

Toothless screeched as the area around them began to crack and chunks fell away. Jack barely registered the sound, his head swimming as he became the fuel for the light. He didn’t know how to break the flow, only that the golden glow was feeding off of him to grow. The brunet didn’t have much more to give and finally, before the light could destroy the glacier, it started to dim and flicker, dying. Once the radiance was gone, the ex-spirit toppled forward, drained and Toothless moved to catch him.

It was too late though; the glacier was on the edge of collapsing in on itself. Toothless’s self-preservation kicked in when the ground trembled and he was forced to leap back to avoid a large icicle. The massive chunk of ice embedded itself in the ground, kicking up a cloud of debris. A distressed trill escaped the dragon when frantic acid green eyes couldn’t locate the brunet through the cloud of dust.

A second rumble shook the glacier and more shards of ice rained down from above. One of which collided with the free-standing icicle, tilting it to the side and allowing a stray beam of light to land on the alive, if unconscious, form of Jack. He wouldn’t remain that way for long going by the ominous creaking as the massive chunk of ice list further over the top of the brunet. Toothless rushed forward this time, a blue glow emanating from his throat, and a tiny, but dense blast hit the falling icicle. Wings flared out in the nick of time to shield them both from the falling debris.

Which was when the glacier finally gave out and the icy world collapsed around the two.


Jack anticipated waking up in his own time with white hair and frost at his fingertips.

To open blue eyes and see the cluttered toys and ice sculptures of North’s workshop.

To smell the fragrant earthy undertones of the Warren’s beautiful underground oasis.

To taste the saltwater in the air on the Island of the Sleepy Sands overlooking the golden sandy beaches where mermaids bathed in the sun.

To hear the humming of tiny wings as little fairies fluttered through the hanging palace heavily influenced by the oriental designs of the Sisters of Flight in Punjam Hy Loo.

His senses were not met with any of his mind’s desires.

When Jack opened his eyes, he saw warn wooden planks and the dreary colors he’d come to associate with Berk. The multiple swords, bludgeons, axes, and an assortment of metal goods let the teenager know he was in Gobber’s hut. Looking around, slightly disoriented from the change in vantage point, Jack realized he wasn’t in the small loft he had claimed for himself despite the blacksmith offering him a room of his own. Instead, his numerous pelts and blankets had been moved—along with him—to rest beside the hearth’s blazing fire.

Despite the abundance of covers weighing him down and the crackling of flames, Jack barely felt warm let alone hot, yet he wasn’t shivering from the cold either. Pushing the furs away, the teenager was surprised to find his staff resting next to him underneath the blankets. His clothing had been changed—or at least his shirt had been—to a long-sleeved green tunic that looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The brunet had no doubt his brown shirt had been destroyed due to his latest misadventure. On the plus side, at least it wasn’t his whole outfit, again. He still had on his deerskin pants and his blue arm warmers peeked out from underneath the shirt, so he knew those survived.

Collecting his crook, the Guardian pushed himself up and headed for the door slowly. His body was sore but didn’t ache as it should have, so the teenager knew it had to have been a day or two at the most since he was last conscious. Jack stopped near the door and looked down at the pile of his belts, pouches, and boots next to Gobber’s single spare boot. Sighing, he rested the staff against the wall and sat down, pulling on the boots. He didn’t bother with his belts and pouches; there was no need for them.

Staff once more in hand, Jack headed out the door into the evening light of the sun. Everyone was hustling and bustling, hurrying on their way. None of them took heed of the brunet lethargically walking through their haste and out of the village altogether. Jack didn’t even need to heed the position of the sun to know the villagers’ current behavior was indicative to an hour or so before the evening meal and most of the Vikings were in a rush to finish in order to head home for the night. It made leaving the village effortless. 

Not even the sentries on duty took notice, waiting impatiently for their replacements as he passed the perimeter. The brunet just kept on walking at a sedated pace, leaving the village behind. He didn’t stop until he reached his intended destination: the cove. From the time he first arrived, the cove seemed to have all the answers he was searching for.

Mr. Vadderung had first clued him in on his jaunt into the past at the cove. Learning there was a reason for magic wrenching him from his time to pull him back in time had taken place at a campfire near the lake. He first ran into Hiccup and Toothless at the cove as well and later Toothless had been the one to lead him to the Nightmare Galleon. Maybe the cove would work its magic for him once more.

Sitting down on the lake’s shoreline, Jack set his crook over his crossed legs. Fingers automatically sought the earth below, idly playing with a small patch of grass just sprouting through the ground. He ended up breaking off a blade without meaning to as he waited. For what he was waiting for, he didn’t know. The Guardian supposed Mr. Vadderung might turn up at some point with the answers on how to return to his own time or magic would suddenly whisk him away.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened for the longest of time.

“I did what you wanted,” Jack whispered morosely, twisting the blade of grass between his fingers. Rolling it and unrolling it all in the same motion unwittingly. Amber orbs stared down upon the piece of greenery, yet they were clouded over, unfocused, and unseeing. “I got rid of the Nightmare Galleon and her crew.”

Palming the blade, amber eyes blinked back the mistiness and concentrated on the bit of grass as if it had the answers he sought. Again, nothing happened, and he let out a sigh. The small breath was enough to pick up the abused piece of greenery and carry it forward. Far enough to deposit the curled blade of grass onto the water’s surface.

“I could have gotten it done faster if I hadn’t been bound by mortal limitations. I could have made sure the Dream Pirates never were unfrozen in the first place.”

Jack slowly lowered his hand to rest alongside his staff.

“I will concede that I did get the job done without them; sure, I’ll give you that. Still, it would have been easier if I had my ice,” his voice grew just a little louder, before becoming soft once again. “Granted, I have no idea how I brought the Galleon down, but I did it.”

The water splashing as a fish jumped out of the lake to catch an evening snack was the only thing heard for some time after. Jack uselessly picked at the rocks within arm’s reach and discarded those he found unworthy. Those he found worthwhile were tossed across the lake, skipping two or more times before succumbing to the water’s embrace.

“What more do you want from me? What more do I have to do?” Jack asked brokenly. “What do I have to do to go home?”

There were no answers forthcoming, not that the immortal teenager expected any. He had gone three hundred years without a word from Manny; he had no inclination to believe magic was any different and if the light dimmed around him somewhat at the thought, he wrote it off as the setting sun.

Jack sat there for a time, skipping rocks and wondering what he had done wrong to earn such a punishment. He sat there to the point the ambient noises blended together and faded from his mind. Not even when the winds picked up and sang for him was he roused from his dissociative state. Neither did he take notice of the rocks and gravel crunching underfoot. Dimly, he noticed the winds circling him, caressing him in an attempt to lift his mood. Eventually, they gave up when he remained unresponsive and wafted past him crestfallen at their failed attempts to cheer him up.

“You have Gobber and pretty much the rest of the village worried about you,” a nasally voice said from behind the motionless brunet. He didn’t even need to turn around to see who it was, Hiccup’s voice was unique. “I don’t blame you.”

That had Jack tilting his head to the side, allowing curious amber orbs to meet with eyes almost the same shade as the grass he had been idly toying with earlier. Yet, the color was richer, more vibrant with life. Two pairs of eyes met for a split second. Vivid green orbs were the first to break away, traveling across the lake. Jack thought he saw a bit of red seeping into the Dragon Rider’s cheeks, but he couldn’t be certain from his current position. 

The brunet’s eyes were pulled from Hiccup’s face when callous worn fingers began fiddling with one of the brown leather straps of the x-shape harness he was wearing. The strange gear with its extended shoulder pads was unusual, to say the least, replacing the auburn-haired boy’s customary vest, and further displaying his tunic. A simple long-sleeved design without embellishments yet the green fabric was of the highest quality; all of which was awfully familiar. Amber orbs darted back and forth between the shirt he wore and the one the Viking had on. The shirt might look a bit different on him, being a size too small for the immortal teenager and not quite reaching as far down on him as it did on Hiccup, but there was no denying it. They were the exact same shirts. 

“I mean, it’s just sometimes you’ve got to have some space to think after an ordeal like that, ya know? And—yeah—I just wanted to let you know… I, uh… understand,” Hiccup fumbled, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt all the while.

Jack nodded his head in acknowledgment—which the chief’s son took as an invitation to sit down beside him—and turned his gaze back out onto the lake. The two sat in silence for a length of time and at one point, the ex-spirit chucked one of his skipping stones across the water. A beat later, another stone followed pursuit which had Jack turning his head to see the auburn-haired Dragon Rider searching for another rock. When he noticed amber eyes staring at him, Hiccup gave a tentative smile.

Selecting another rock of his own, Jack sent it sailing across the lake, skipping at least half a dozen times, double the number of skips the other teen’s stone had traveled. From there, it dissolved into a silent competition to see who could skip their rock the farthest. It was kind of nice and the ex-spirit was relieved Hiccup wasn’t probing him for answers regarding his actions. However, an impatient dragon broke the comfortable camaraderie growing between the two teens by nudging the brunet’s side, sending his next stone wild. The rock sunk to the bottom of the lake without a single skip.

Jack, having toppled over at the unexpected prod, would have landed on the ground if not for Hiccup sitting so close. As it was, the Guardian ended up crashing into the Dragon Rider. He, in turn, caught the brunet by the shoulders, barely managing to keep them both upright. Jack tensed at the gentle touch and quickly sat up, removing himself from Hiccup's space.

Toothless nudged the brunet again, this time more intensely. Acid green eyes, which for once weren’t narrowed in slits as they glared at him, were right in Jack’s face. The dragon made sure he had the teenager’s full attention before pulling back and revealing a large fish dangling by its tail clutched by pearly white teeth. The black menace—who the ex-spirit had to admit wasn’t much of a menace—set the fish down on the ground, pushing it towards the eternal teen with his nose, a bashful look on his face.

“It’s Toothless’s way of apologizing,” Hiccup explained drawing amber eyes back to him. Blood once more rushed to the Dragon Rider’s cheeks and vivid green eyes immediately looked elsewhere. “I too—uh… what I want to say is—we seemingly got off on the wrong foot and…I would like to start over.”

It was Jack’s turn to look elsewhere because as much at fault their disaster of a first meeting rested on Hiccup’s shoulders, the eternal teenager was just as much to blame. He let his temper get the better of him. The memories he had been forced to relive as if they were happening for the first time had affected him greatly, but the Guardian shouldn’t have taken it out on Hiccup. They both had gotten off on the wrong foot as the auburn-haired teenager had pointed out. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

With a decisive nod of his head, Jack put the past behind him and moved forward with his life.

“Hi, I’m Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third of the Haddock House, Heir to the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, and am currently sixteen summers old,” Hiccup introduced himself, a giant grin spreading across his face with each passing word.

“Jackson Overland, fourteen winters old, relocated descendant of the Druid Clan: Taliesin, the last member,” Jack recited back in a similar fashion. The last part almost produced a slight frown, but he held it at bay. That was new information, even to himself. Yet, it sounded right. He would have to search his memories about that later.

Fourteen?! But, I thought… I mean it’s just,” Hiccup staggered, losing his grin as his tongue twisted at the revelation of the ex-spirit’s age. The immortal teenager briefly wondered what the Viking would say if he told him his real age and not that of his appearance but quickly dismissed the idea in favor of taking the fish from Toothless as the dragon nudged him for the third time.

“Yeah, I’m a hiccup, apparently. At least I can say I’m taller than a sixteen summers old boy,” Jack chuckled, eyeing the crispy fish in his hands. Turning his attention back towards the dragon’s rider, the Guardian noticed the uncomfortable look on Hiccup’s face and was quick to reassure him no offense was taken. “Don’t worry about it; I’ve had centuries to deal with it.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Hiccup sighed as his gaze returned to the lake, a forlorn expression marring his face. It took the brunet a minute to connect the dots and understand what the other teen meant by his remark, but when it did click, Jack couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“This coming from the Pride of Berk?” the ex-spirit asked, cocking his eyebrow. “I’d say you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“You’d think, but being the son of Stoick the Vast, it's not as easy as it seems,” the auburn-haired teenager said with a slightly lopsided smile. “Besides, you seem pretty important as well, being a member of the Talsin clan.”

He would have agreed with the Dragon Rider if he'd been born decades prior. As it was?

“Not so much,” Jack shrugged, not bothering to correct Hiccup on the mispronunciation.

It also didn’t help the auburn-haired teenager triggered forgotten memories, yanking them to the forefront of Jack's mind and drowning him beneath the surface.


Kári from over the lands took pride in her heritage and passed it on to her children. She was the sole remaining grandchild of Owain, the last Druid of the Taliesin Clan. Owain had five children that he dreamed would continue the Taliesin traditions and bring about a new age of prosperity for the clan. His first son, the child he had envisioned on bestowing the honor every clan head had of safeguarding the knowledge of where the Valley of the Fallen Kings was hidden had died an honorable death with no heirs. His second son was born prematurely and did not live a fortnight while his fourth son made a pilgrimage to the Isle of the Blessed, never to be heard from again. His youngest daughter, his pride and last hope for the clan had died in childbirth.

Owain had resigned himself to the aspect that the once-revered Taliesin Clan would come to an end with his demise when his last child—his third born and first daughter who had been enthralled by a traveling merchant’s charm and married without his blessing—returned with a child of her own. Owain was not surprised to learn his daughter’s merchant of a husband was long gone, having crossed the oceans to the New Land leaving her with no means to fend for herself or her daughter.

Forced to return to her father for support, his daughter wilted under the shame of returning to her inferior upbringing after having become accustomed to living as a member of the upper echelon. Kári, however, flourished under her grandfather’s care and took to her Druid roots despite her mother’s protests. It would seem Owain’s prayer for his clan to live on had been answered. With every potion his granddaughter made and ritual she learned; the elderly man knew he had found the next head of the Taliesin Clan. However, he never had the chance to bestow the honor of the clan to Kári.

When she was just shy of twelve springs old, disaster struck in the form of a plague. It claimed the lives of both her grandfather and mother leaving Kári with little means to care for herself. An aunt from her father’s side had been located and the woman readily paid for the young girl’s passage overseas to live with her father in the New Land. Upon disembarking the ship, Kári found not her father waiting for her but a devote Christian minister—twice her age—her father had betrothed her to in exchange for wealth. A man who held no love for his new bride’s ‘barbaric’ religion.


“Not anymore,” Jack uttered quietly, surfacing from the memories weighing him down. “Besides, being the Conqueror of the Red Death and the Tamer of a Night Fury makes you more important than me.”

“You’ve heard about that, huh?” Hiccup chuckled nervously, running a hand through auburn locks.

“Just what the rumors have to say. Most people talk about how you trained a Night Fury and your heroic journey to defeat the Red Death,” the Guardian admitted, breaking off a piece of the crispy fish and eating it. He didn’t grimace at the taste, he was—sadly—growing accustomed to the flavorless and bland food, but it was a near thing. This time at least, there was some flavor; burnt smoke, but a flavor nonetheless.

He broke off another piece and offered it to Toothless, who happily snatched the food up. Jack recoiled and watched as the Night Fury ate the larger portion of the fish. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and petting the dragon’s head. Toothless stilled and the Guardian felt he crossed a line. He pulled back only for the Night Fury to lean forward, brushing his nose up against the outstretched hand.

“There’s more to it than that,” the chief’s son downplayed his achievements, watching the brunet’s exchange with Toothless. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Jack said earnestly, breaking off another piece of the chard fish and offering it to the dragon.

“Okay,” Hiccup found himself agreeing. “But only if you tell me more about this Jökul Frosti I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Chapter 10: The Turning Tides

Notes:

Remember how I said that I use wikias liberally to use existing characters? Well, in this chapter, I made up my own characters (something I rarely do because I dislike overly powered OCs that take over the stories). In this case, the characters wrote themselves in the story. Hope you guys like them.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Wow, I’ve never heard of Jökul Frosti, but he sure sounds like something,” Hiccup remarked when Jackson was done weaving his incredible tale of the personification of winter.

“He is relatively unheard of, but he does protect those who acknowledge him,” the brunet brushed off the comment as he gracefully climbed to his feet and stretched. A few pops could be heard which seemed to satisfy the teenager. He then proceeded to kick his staff up and snatched it out of the air effortlessly.

“Then he has another believer in me,” the Dragon Rider assured, attempting to stand as well but was having some trouble with his metal leg. When compared to the nimble motions coming from his companion, he appeared to be a newborn yak getting up for the first time.

“I’d think he’d like that,” Jackson smiled, amber eyes drifting over the lake which had vivid green eyes copying the gesture.

The lake had blossomed with activity. A school of fish disturbed the surface of the water, looking for an evening meal. Rays of light were peering around the tree trunks as the sun neared the horizon. Feeling movement at his side, Hiccup looked over to find Toothless nudging him insistently. When the dragon saw he'd gained his rider’s attention, he let out a low warbling whine and turned to stare at the sun. It was then the auburn-haired teenager realized how late it had become without his notice.

“What’s up with Toothless?” Jackson asked, concern lacing his voice. He looked like he wanted to reach out to check if there was something wrong with the dragon but held himself back. No doubt, he was still a little wary of the Night Fury.

“Uh… it’s sunset, we usually take a flight around the island about now,” Hiccup nodded his head towards the setting sun. When Toothless nudged him again, the chief’s son stroked the dragon’s nose to keep him pacified for the moment.

The brunet made a noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat and nodded. “I won’t keep you then. Besides, I should probably be heading out now if I want to make it back before nightfall. See you at the Great Hall for dinner?”

Hiccup paused. He usually didn’t eat the communal food served in the Great Hall. A perk of being the son of the chief, food was often given to his father for a variety of reasons.  Be it out of respect for the chief, to garner his favor, or just because his father was tired and didn't feel like cooking, better food than what they served in the Great Hall was often delivered to the Haddocks' hut. Hiccup did have to attend certain feasts and, on special occasions, would partake in a meal at the Great Hall. This, he considered, counted as such.

“Sure,” the auburn-haired teen agreed, facing Jackson who was idly spinning his shepherd’s staff from his right hand to the left. Toothless—having enough of being ignored—squirmed his way between the two teenagers, nuzzling his face against each of them in turn. “Alright, alright already, Bud, we’ll go.”

The dragon’s eagerness to fly made the brunet smile with what the Dragon Rider could only describe as a wistful smile. Hiccup petted the Night Fury to get him to settle down so he could wrap up the conversation with the other teenager, who he still couldn’t believe was fourteen. He had more meat on his bones at fourteen than Jackson currently had.

“I’ll save you a seat in the Great Hall then?” Hiccup cautiously suggested.

“Sure,” Jackson nodded, a brilliant smile spreading across his face. Giving Toothless a scratch behind his ear-plate and with a parting wave, the foreigner made his way back to the village. The auburn-haired teenager watched as the brunet leisurely made his way up and out of the cove. Only when the figure disappeared between the budding trees did the Dragon Rider turn back to Toothless.

“Alright Buddy,” Hiccup conceded, mounting the dragon and hooking the safety straps from his riding harness to the saddle. Then he double-checked the connections to the harness for good measure. Once he was satisfied, the Viking placed his metal foot into the stirrup which controlled Toothless’s tail with an audible click. “Let’s fly.”

The Night Fury didn’t need any more encouragement and unfurled his wings. With one powerful flap, they were off. Once in the sky, Hiccup became aware of all the tension from the day as it seeped out of his body. It was in the sky where he felt the most alive and at ease. Up here, he was free. There was no pressure of being Stoick the Vast’s hiccup of a son—even if his father insisted he was named to scare away the trolls and not because of his status as a runt—nor was he the Hero of Berk that the villagers looked to for guidance or blamed whenever there was a dragon-related problem. No, up here, it was just him and Toothless, leaving all their worries below.

“What the—?” Hiccup uttered, noticing irregular movements in the forest below. It took a moment for him to identify the irregularity, but then recognized the fast-moving green and brown blob for what it was; Jackson running through the forest. Although, running would imply the teen was earthbound, which wasn’t the case. More than not, the brunet’s boots didn’t touch the ground, too busy pushing off tree bark while hands or the crook of the staff would seize the next tree branch to propel himself forward. He flipped and twisted his body in such a way that Hiccup had never seen before and it was mesmerizing to watch.

Toothless must have seen Jackson too because he flared his wings out to catch the wind. The Night Fury slowed the duo down and a slant of his fins dropped them closer to the treetops. The dragon tilted his head, wide pupils darting every which way, tracking the teen.

“Isn’t that something?” Hiccup couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. Toothless was no better, acid green eyes watching the figure darting through the forest in fascination. The Dragon Rider had to admit, he was impressed; he remembered how Jackson had effortlessly climbed the tree to get Snotlout and Astrid down. Yet, that stunt was nothing in comparison to the display below. Astrid would be hard-pressed to accomplish even half the acrobatic moves the brunet was performing with ease. There was no hesitation, no second guesses, just fluid, well-practiced movements that left Hiccup speechless.

Toothless!” the Dragon Rider screeched at said dragon's abrupt dive. Even though he knew he was bound to the dragon, Hiccup automatically tightened his hold on the saddle. His eyes scrunched together to prevent them from watering due to the sheer force of the plunge but that didn’t mean he wasn’t able to see exactly where the Night Fury was headed. “No! Don’t You Dare! TOOTHLESS!

Toothless did not heed his rider’s words as his claws gripped onto the green fabric of the tunic Jackson currently wore and promptly changed trajectory. Heading straight into the sky and gaining the appropriate amount of altitude, the dragon leaned back and released his hold on the brunet at the peak of the loop. Toothless continued on and Jackson—who had corrected himself from the unexpected catch and release—landed safely behind Hiccup.

The brunet’s right arm—with his staff in hand—slung around the top of Hiccup’s shoulder while his left arm snaked under the Dragon Rider’s left arm to grab onto the gnarled wood. Not a moment too soon either, as the Night Fury took it upon himself to do a barrel roll one way before twisting and doing a second barrel roll in the opposing direction. Hiccup faintly heard the brunet behind him letting out some kind of indecipherable noise over the winds whipping past his ears and he felt all the progress he'd made with the other boy vanish thanks to Toothless’s thoughtless actions.

“I am so sorry for this,” the auburn-haired teen moaned once they were no longer doing countless barrel rolls one after another. He could already see their tentative friendship going up in the proverbial dragon’s flame.

“I’m not!” Jackson whooped and this time, the Dragon Rider could hear that it was laughter coming from the brunet and not screams of terror. “That was amazing! What else can you guys do?”

Hiccup was not ashamed to admit he was left stupefied. All of the other Dragon Riders balked at the mere thought of riding any dragon performing such maneuvers. Sure, the others pushed their limits, but never did they dare go as fast or as far as Hiccup was willing to go. Astrid made it perfectly clear she would never go on Toothless again if he executed any of the aerobatic tricks he'd performed during the beginning portion of her first unwitting ride on the Night Fury. Yet, here was some foreigner, not only unfazed by the aerial maneuvers but asking for more.

“You heard him, Bud, let’s show Jackson what we can really do,” Hiccup said with a smirk, the brunet didn’t know what he was in for, but he was going to make sure it was an experience the foreigner would never forget.

Toothless perked up and put on a boost of speed and headed into the clouds. He then drew his wings in and dived. The Dragon Rider could feel Jackson behind him becoming weightless from the plummet and only managed to stay on the dragon’s back because of his grasp on the piece of wood currently digging into Hiccup’s chest.

Looking over his shoulder, the chief’s son was greeted with Jackson’s face mere inches from his own as the other teen peered over his shoulder to get a better view, a giant smile across his face. Toothless abruptly opened his wings mere feet from the ocean waves below, which had the brunet whooping and laughing as the tips of the dragon’s wings skimmed the water, soaking the two teens.

Turning his attention back in front of him, Hiccup looked at the upcoming rock stacks and grinned. Shifting his metal leg, the mechanical tailfin shifted positions and, as if reading his rider’s mind, the Night Fury went even faster. They didn’t go around the sea stacks. Rather they swerved and weaved through the rock formations jutting out of the ocean. All the while, their passenger was happily hooting and hollering no matter what they threw his way or how fast they went.

Coming out the other side of the sea stacks, Hiccup angled the dragon back up into the sky before leveling out and slowing down to the point they were lazily flying through the low floating clouds. It was from there they could see the sun finally sinking below the ocean.

“It’s serene up here, so peaceful,” the chief’s son breathed out and Toothless let out a low warble in agreement as they all watched the setting sun sink lower. “So—"

“Free,” Jackson cut him off causing the Dragon Rider to turn his head and look at the tranquil expression on the brunet’s face as the winds ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, free,” Hiccup agreed, turning back to the sunset and smiling. His heart lifted at finally finding a kindred spirit who enjoyed the sky as much as both he and Toothless did. Patting the Night Fury on the head, the auburn-haired teenager nudged him to turn back. “Come on Bud, time to go home.”

They flew at a much more sedated pace heading back. Jackson was amazed by just about everything below them and his childish glee and wonder was contagious. It was almost like Hiccup was flying with Toothless for the first time again. When they flew just below the clouds, the brunet would reach out and touch the wisps, almost like he was trying to grab a handful for his own. Joining a pack of various dragons flying around the island, Jackson looked up at them in awe. By the time Toothless landed near the steps to the Great Hall, the sunlight was a thing of the past.

“Thank you for that—" Jackson said wistfully, relinquishing his hold on his staff with his left hand and unwinding himself from around the chief’s son. For the first time that evening, Hiccup felt the chill of the night at the loss of the warmth but pushed it aside and focused on the brunet’s words, “—you don’t know how much that means to me.”

“You’re welcome,” the Dragon Rider said as Jackson carefully dismounted the Night Fury while he messed around with unhooking his harness from Toothless’s saddle. His hands weren’t being very cooperative at the moment and were fumbling with the latches. “If you want—I mean, that is to say, Toothless loves flying and, really, so do I. So, if, um… you ever want, we can do that again?”

“I’d love that,” the brunet replied with a fond smile. Finally, the hook came free, allowing Hiccup to dismount. “Ready to eat?”

“Sure, though, it looks like I didn’t get the chance to save you a seat,” the auburn-haired teenager deadpanned as the three of them walked up the steps.

“That’s understandable,” Jackson chuckled, twirling his staff in hand. “So, what do you think they’re serving today? Fish, chicken, or last week’s gruel?”

“Last week’s gruel, because no one ate it then,” the chief’s son automatically answered. A shiver, that had nothing to do with them reaching the top of the stairs, went down his spine as a grimace spread across his face at the mere thought of the gruel.

“True, very true; I can’t say I ate it either. Thank Odin, Gobber can cook,” the foreigner agreed, pushing one of the giant doors open. He couldn’t quite get it alone, but Toothless happily threw his weight against the massive wooden door and together they opened it and slipped inside.

“I don’t think Odin had anything to do with that,” Hiccup pointed out, bracing his shoulder against the door and forcing it closed.

“Well, you’d be wrong then,” Jackson smirked, glancing at the auburn-haired teenager out of the corner of his eyes, “Odin gave Gobber a cookbook, or so he said.”

The Dragon Rider groaned, mentally cursing his mentor for telling tall tales. “You do know that some of the things Gobber tells you are just stories, right?”

“Whoever said I was talking about Gobber?” came the immediate reply, paired with a wicked grin. Jackson left a stunned auburn-haired teenager standing in the middle of the hall while he headed over to the busty brunette and short dark-haired man who were serving the communal food tonight. Watching the other teen’s retreating back, Hiccup had to be pushed forward by Toothless before he was able to regain his wits.

Coming up behind Jackson to wait in line for the food, the shorter teenager nudged the brunet in the side. “That wasn't a very nice trick.”

“Well, the best tricks sometimes aren’t tricks at all, but the truth,” Jackson said, his grin firmly fixed in place and, once again, leaving the chief’s son confused.

“What do you mean by that?” Hiccup asked as they reached the front of the line—which he wasn’t sure was a good thing or not considering they had been right in assuming it was last week’s gruel—and took the bowl offered to him by the busty brunette. “Thank you, Mrs. Larson.”

“Thanks, Norbert,” the brunet said at the same time, accepting his own bowl from the dark-haired man before turning towards the multitude of tables. “You’ll just have to figure that out yourself. Now help me find us a table.”

Sighing in defeat, the young Viking scanned the Great Hall and recalled another reason why he rarely came during communal meals. It was packed and there were hardly any seats available. However, there was a reason the Great Hall was even more congested than usual, as there were four dragons surrounding a table near the back of the hall.

“Come on, I see one,” Hiccup motioned towards the table the Academy members occupied. Toothless was already bounding forward, weaving between tables and rowdy Vikings, creating a path for the two teenagers. Jackson faltered when he noticed where they were going yet the chief’s son saw the brunet following after a second.

“Hey Hiccup,” Astrid called out, having seen the Night Fury and knew the auburn-haired Viking wasn’t far behind. Scooting over, she made some room for the new arrival who slid onto the newly vacated seat at the end of the bench. “What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the Great Hall for meals.”

“I told Jackson I’d sit with him tonight,” he explained with a shrug which quickly morphed into a squirm when the shieldmaiden shot him a look with a single raised eyebrow. This had the rest of the Dragon Riders focusing their attention on Jackson who was standing off to the side.

“Hey! You’re the one who dropped me out of the tree—uff,” Snotlout started, pointing accusingly at the other brunet, only to be silenced by an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.

“What this oaf is trying to say is thank you for getting us down,” Astrid covered for the wincing Viking to her right and gestured to the seat across from the chief’s son. “Have a seat.”

Amber eyes darted from the blonde to the rest of the table before resting on Hiccup. After a long pause, Jackson set his bowl down on the opposing side of the table and took the open seat next to Ruffnut. While his movements were as graceful as ever, his posture was stiff and he kept a gap between himself and the Thorston next to him. He set his crook up against the table—well within reach—and grabbed the spoon resting in the bowl.

“You’re welcome. It was no big deal,” Jackson replied, eyes downcast while he stirred the off-colored substance masquerading as his evening meal.

“No big deal? That was incredible!” Fishlegs exclaimed, leaning over the table to see Jackson around Tuffnut and Ruffnut. “You literally ran up the tree! And those moves! I’ve never seen anything like that! Astrid can do some flips and stuff, sure, but nothing compared to what you did.”

Hiccup saw delight pass through amber eyes at the praise when the brunet glanced up. It was hidden just as quickly as it appeared when he ducked his head. The grunt from his side had the Head of the Academy turning to see the blonde shieldmaiden glowering at Fishlegs since she couldn’t fall back on physical violence like she usually did when someone upset her. The heavyset Viking swiftly sat down and sank into the bench, easily picking up on the blonde’s telegraphed desires.

“Naw, that was nothing,” Tuffnut drew everyone’s attention, waving his spoon around in the air. “You should see when he is going all out.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome! It’s like nothing stands in his way, running up the sides of buildings, flipping over rocks, and vaulting over things with that rod of his,” Ruffnut nodded her head, taking a bite of her gruel and then switching her bowl with her brother’s.

“And how would you know that?” Snotlout sneered, slamming his empty bowl down on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.

Tuffnut rolled his eyes, discreetly switching his bowl back with his twin’s. “We’ve watched him, duh.”

“That doesn’t sound creepy in the slightest,” Hiccup muttered, taking a bite of the gruel.

“It’s not like that,” Jackson chuckled, causing the auburn-haired Viking to turn beet red. He hadn’t thought anyone could hear him. “They have a habit of sitting on roofs to watch the chaos unfold after one of their pranks and have seen me running through the village. Granted, they’re usually rooting for me to crash into someone or something.”

“But he always dodges somehow,” the Viking with dreadlocks deflated, shoulders drooping; completely missing the stink eye coming from the brunet on the other side of his sister. “Although, Snuffnut told us we couldn’t root against you anymore.”

“Snuffnut?” Snotlout snorted, barely holding back his disbelief. “Who names their kid Snuffnut?”

“Our sister, Puffnut,” Ruffnut answered, pointing her spoon towards a woman with a mane of wheat blonde hair and a single blue eye. She wore a sinister smile while polishing an axe twice the size of her arms.

Sitting next to her was a tall dark-haired Viking with blue eyes and in between the two sat a small boy who Hiccup immediately recognized and who could only be Snuffnut. The child’s messy blond hair and dark blue eyes were the same as the chief’s son remembered when he had been sitting by Jackson’s side during his storytelling. On the other hand, the grey tunic and leather pants were new. The black arm warmers were also new and looked suspiciously like those Jackson wore.

“There are more of you?” Astrid gaped, turning back around to face the twins.

“Yeah, there’s Gruffnut—" Tuffnut stood as much as the bench would allow and looked around before gesturing his spoon at a muscular blue-eyed blond man drinking a pitcher of mead while the group of men surrounding him cheered the Thorston on.

“—Muffnut—" Ruffnut motioned to a tall, angular Viking man bending another Viking over his shoulders; again, with blue eyes and blond hair. Fishlegs whimpered when a crack was heard from the man’s back despite the distance between the two tables.

“—Scruffnut—" dreadlocks slapped the heavyset Viking in the face as their owner turned suddenly around and waved at a crop wheat blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman arm wrestling a stocky dark-haired Viking. She was winning. Hiccup saw the brunet look back and forth between the man and Snotlout and couldn’t blame Jackson, the family resemblance between father and son was uncanny.

“—Huffnut—" another wheat blonde woman with her hair pulled back in a long braid, had a Viking held up by the scruff of his tunic, feet dangling off the ground. Her opposing arm was drawn back while her hand tightened into a solid fist. The chief’s son had seen the woman before at his father’s council meetings and he couldn’t place who she was at the moment, but he had always assumed she was a Hofferson, not a Thorston. She had the same surly demeanor Astrid had.

“—and Norbert,” Tuffnut finished, sitting back down and gesturing to the short dark-haired, dark-eyed, and noticeably scraggier man ladling gruel into bowls next to Mrs. Larson.

“Can I blame him for this meal?” Jackson asked, prodding his gruel and picking up a spoonful before turning it over. The gruel clung to the spoon.

“Norbert?” Astrid asked at the same time.

“Yeah,” Ruffnut whispered loudly, her blue eyes darting back and forth before leaning over the table to whisper—rather loudly—to the shieldmaiden, “but he’s adopted. Just don’t tell him.”

“They’re the youngest by a few winters. Norbert was adopted the fall after the triplets—Puffnut, Huffnut, and Gruffnut—were born leaving the first set of twins, Muffnut and Scruffnut, as the oldest by two winters,” the brunet offered offhandedly, waving his spoon around erratically in an attempt to rid it of the food. It didn’t budge.

“How do you know that?” Astrid asked, eyeing Jackson and Hiccup knew what she was thinking; he was thinking the same. How could a foreigner know more about the twins’ siblings when they didn’t know the other Thorstons existed? They had known them longer and yet they hadn’t known the Thorston twins had more siblings, let alone who the oldest was.

“They come with Snuffnut to listen to my stories, and I talk with them,” Jackson shrugged as amber eyes remained fixed upon his food. “The real question is how can you eat this stuff?”

“Easy, you just put it in your mouth and swallow,” Tuffnut answered, happily demonstrating by taking a giant bite out of the bowl-shaped gruel clinging to his spoon.

“You’re stories? Are you telling me you’re the one responsible for all those wooden bowls being left outside?” Snotlout scrutinized the brunet, leaning on an elbow to get a better view of the teenager at the other end of the table.

Jackson put the spoon in his mouth, making a face as he gulped down the food before returning the utensil to the bowl and pushing it away. “Well, in a way, I guess. I did tell the kids a couple of stories about the Wyldfae and how it became a tradition for the Wee Folk and various other fae to trade for things placed in a rowan bowl. I didn’t think they would run home and make their own offering bowls.”

“Huh, that’s why all the kids were asking for rowan wood. Dad was wondering why there's been a high demand for the wood lately. Guess I can tell him,” Hiccup pondered aloud, pushing the teenager’s bowl back in front of him while making a show of eating his own gruel. It was no wonder the younger boy was a hiccup; he hardly ate a thing. Rolling his eyes, Jackson picked up his discarded spoon and ate another bite.

“We made one too,” Ruffnut proclaimed, thrusting out her chest and slamming a fist over her heart.

“Yeah, and we put the flowers from the Hamadryad and Puffnut’s wooden eye in them last night and this morning there these shiny stones in it!” the Viking with dreadlocks continued, rooting around in his clothing and producing a few little yellow stones from the inside pocket of his vest.

Setting down his spoon and picking up one of the little nuggets to inspect, the blacksmith’s apprentice rolled it around his fingers and held it up to the light. “Uh, Tuffnut, this is gold. Really high-end gold.”

“I know, isn't it great? Now me and Ruffnut have enough to buy Puffnut a new eye,” Tuffnut preened, taking the gold and tucking the rocks back into his clothing and not a moment too soon to avoid being swiped by Snotlout’s greedy hands. The heavily built Viking dropped back onto his ass when he missed his chance.

“I’m afraid to ask, but why didn’t you just give her the eye you put in the bowl?” Astrid inquired as she polished off her meal.

Blue eyes shifted and Ruffnut scratched her chin with a finger. “Because, she would have known we stole it then.”

“Not to mention, we kind of broke it,” Tuffnut admitted, taking another bite out of his bowl-shape gruel on a spoon.

“I want gold,” Snotlout grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a momentary pause in which Hiccup could just see a feeble thought worming its way into the dark-haired Viking’s brain and he could already feel the headache forming when Snotlout turned his focus on Jackson. “How do I make one of these bowl thingies?”

“It won’t work how you want it too, you probably won’t get gold,” the teenager muttered, propping his head on his knuckles and stirring the gruel with the spoon in his other hand, “the Wee Folk and Dewdrop Faeries give up what they believe is equal in value for what is given in return and even then, it depends on what's available. Tuffnut and Ruffnut just got lucky.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Fishlegs rejoined the conversation, his curiosity outweighing his fear of Astrid.

“I’m a Druid,” Jackson replied, tapping his spoon against the bowl but didn’t bother to eat anymore. “I may not have lived in a traditional Druid settlement, but my mother made sure me and my sister had the fundamental knowledge of the Old Religion and Druid customs drilled into our skulls since we could walk.”

“What’s the Old Religion?” the heavyset Viking leaned further over the table to get a better view of the brunet. Always eager to learn, he pulled out a bound booklet from inside his tunic and opened it up to a blank page where a charcoal pencil was folded inside. Picking up the pencil, Fishlegs turned his attention to the younger boy, readily awaiting Jackson’s answer.

“Now that’s kind of a difficult question to answer as the Old Religion is centered around the Magic of Earth,” the foreigner spoke slowly, deliberating on how to respond. “The best way to answer that is to dive into the philosophy of the Old Religion; of which, the basis can be summarized with one word: balance. To us Druids, maintaining balance is essential. 

“A fire burning the forest would be unstoppable if there wasn’t water to put it out, trees wouldn’t grow tall and strong without the winds' boisterous gales. It’s all a balance between fire and water, earth and air. Together they make up what is known as the Balance of Nature and it is considered one of the most vital of balances. However, at the heart of the Old Religion is the most hallowed of balances: the balance between life and death.”

“Interesting,” Fishlegs murmured busy scribbling down everything as fast as he could. Once finished, he looked at Jackson again, tapping his pencil against his lips with a thoughtful expression on his face. “So, do all Druids practice the Old Religion?”

“Some, not all, depends on the Druid clan. In the past, yeah, all Druids were considered followers of the Old Religion, however, not so much anymore. My mother taught me it was more important to keep the Balance of Nature, the Magic of Earth, healthy and strong than it was to listen to the High Priests and High Priestesses of the Old Religion—after all, it was High Priestess Nimueh's grudge that fueled the Great Purge—that is the principle I follow,” Jackson took one more bite of the gruel and set his spoon down for good.

“The Great Purge, I’ve never heard of that,” Astrid stated matter-of-factly, her interest piqued.

“You wouldn’t, it happened where I was from, before I was born. The ruling king requested a High Priestess to help his wife bear him a son when he learned his queen was barren. The High Priestess agreed, but—as I said, the Old Religion is all about balance—so when she used magic to create the life of the future prince, magic had to take a life. It took the life of the queen. Enraged at what he believed to be treachery; the king declared all magic was evil and those who practiced magic were corrupted by its power.

“It didn’t matter if the practitioners spent their whole lives helping others or swore oaths to never do harm. The king had anyone who allegedly possessed magic executed; many without a trial. Whole Druid clans were slaughtered without warning because the king believed all Druids practiced some form of magic.”

“Are you a practitioner of magic?” Ruffnut asked, picking up on the one thing that interested her. Magic, it was something she could use to create even more mischief than she already did. “Can you teach me?”

“No, teach me,” Tuffnut pushed his sister to the side. “Gothi refuses to teach me. She just hits me with her staff.”

“Who’s Gothi?” Jackson, obviously amused by the twins, did little to keep his chuckles in check.

“She’s the Village Elder,” Hiccup informed the clueless brunet about one of the tribe’s most prolific members.

“She knows things,” Fishlegs insisted, looking around to make sure nothing was going to happen to him after speaking out about the mystical Gothi.

The information had Jackson perking up and dropping his hands to the table. “Have you seen her perform any magic?”

“She can tell when you are going to die by looking at your fingernails,” Snotlout provided, fingers curling into his palms.

“Gobber says it’s actually your tongue,” Fishlegs corrected, covering his mouth with his hand.

“She can predict the weather,” Astrid spoke over the heavyset Viking.

“But, have you ever seen her command the elements? Do something inexplicable? Other than mysteriously knowing things?” the brunet probed, eyeing each of the table occupants for more information. The Dragon Riders in turn stared at each other, trying to think of such an event, but ended up shaking their heads negatively one after the other.

“Not that I know of,” the shieldmaiden spoke for all of the Academy members.

“She sounds like a shaman,” Jackson said. At the blank stares he received, he groaned. “Think of magic like a flame. Someone who has a small candle with an equally small flame has just enough magic to shed light into the dark and glimpse the barest silhouette of the Balance of Nature. They can feel when the elements have tipped in one direction or another.  A shaman's flame is more like a torch, giving them more of an insight into the Balance of Nature and some can even see the Balance Between Life and Death. 

"It's interesting to note, that the size of a person's magic can be influenced by their affinity. Take a Hedgewixen for example, they are the lowest of those magically inclined; their magic is like a spark, it’s there but not going to do much good.  A regular Hedgewixen could probably only manage to light a candle one out of five times but if they had an affinity, then the affinity feeds the spark, coaxing forth a flame. So, if, say a Hedgewizard had a healing affinity, he'd still only be able to light the candle one out of five times, but his healing spells or potions would be superior to those of his fellow Hedgewixens and may even put him on par with a shaman or above depending on the strength of his healing affinity.

“Above shamans, there are sorcerers, who have a flame of magic, some small like a hearth fire while there are others whose magic is as large as a bonfire. Sorcerers can manipulate the Balance to suit their needs. Replicating winds and conjuring flowers. More powerful sorcerers can even call up storms and grow trees within seconds. Sorcerers tend to have several affinities or one very strong affinity.

“At the top are warlocks, or, I should say, warlock. I know of only one warlock in the history of the Old Religion, a child who was born with magic in his veins and whom the elements bow to his whims. He is the living embodiment of magic, the High Lord of Magic—a title the Magic of Earth bestowed upon him long before he was born—the most powerful magical being to ever walk this earth.”

A silence fell across the table, the only sound coming from the scratching of Fishlegs’s pencil against paper.

“So," Tuffnut broke the peace, "you’ll teach us magic?” 

“Sorry, but no can do, I’m a Druid by blood, a low-level practitioner at best,” the brunet sighed, Hiccup easily picking up on the hints of depression in the silvery tones. He had heard them in his own voice for so many years, that it was hard not to notice when the same tone was in someone else’s voice. “Practitioners are only a step above Hedgewixens. A practitioner can do small spells, but nothing beyond a few simple parlor tricks. I can feel the Balance of Nature, but not constantly. Only when something big is about to happen and even then, I might not feel the subtle shifts.

“Actually, back where I am from, there are not many sorcerers left because of the Great Purge, I only know of a small number who survived and only a rare few sorcerers have been born since. No one knows why; though, I have a suspicion. I think the king not only destroyed the Balance of Nature by killing those with magic, but he also drove countless Creatures of Magic—creatures who were born of magic and are a part of the Old Religion—out of his land which kept the balance from mending itself. In particular, he tried to eradicate an entire species of magical creatures. I grew up believing he succeeded. Well, there were two exceptions, but that’s not important because I was proven wrong.”

“What creatures did you think he killed off?” Snotlout probed for more information, now fully engrossed in the story.

“Dragons,” Jackson whispered, tentatively reaching a hand out to Toothless, whose ear-plates had fallen at his words, and then butted his head against the hand to reassure the brunet he was alive. “I never thought I’d live to see one and now, I’m surrounded by them.”


“I didn’t mean to do that,” Astrid said as she and Hiccup walked down the Great Hall’s steps and headed off towards the Hofferson’s hut with Stormfly soaring high above them in the night sky. Toothless lagged behind his rider, unable to join his packmate in the stars. Every once in a while, the Night Fury would let out a warble when the Deadly Nadder got too far ahead and the blue dragon chirped back, otherwise ignoring the black dragon to fly freely through the night.

The other Academy members had already headed home for the night on their dragons. Hiccup had been a little worried about allowing the foreign brunet to go off alone after everything that had transpired in the last few days. However, Snuffnut was quick to come to the teenager’s side when he noticed the brunet leaving and the boy had pleaded with his parents to walk with Jackson. The auburn-haired teenager last saw the two heading towards Gobber’s hut with the boy’s parents shadowing a few feet behind them.

“Do what?” Hiccup asked confused by the non sequitur. They were just talking about Jackson and how well he appeared to be doing when Astrid had suddenly let out a heavy sigh followed by the off-kilter comment.

Shifting the torch from one hand to the other, the chief’s son had a hard time following the sudden shift in topics. Then again, he wasn’t at his best and hadn't been for some time. Being separated from Toothless like he'd been was harrowing and Hiccup still couldn't figure out what happened to pull the Night Fury into the glacier as it caved in. Add to that the following two days spent unsuccessfully searching for Jackson and Toothless and the auburn-haired teenager was dead on his feet. The glacier calving the day prior had put an end to the search parties and it was only luck the missing duo were found at all.

When the calving ice crashed into the water, the resulting hazardous wave created from the collapse nearly overturned a few of the longboats fishing off the coast and left a treacherous field of icy debris in its wake. A crewmember scurrying about on deck to prevent them from capsizing spotted Toothless clinging to one of the smaller icebergs with an unconscious brunet tucked underneath the dragon.

It was a miracle either of them had survived.

To say Hiccup hadn’t been sleeping all that well—plagued by nightmares of Toothless’s demise and the foreigner drowning at sea—was an understatement.

Astrid brought him out of his thoughts by giving him one of her many judgmental looks and ended up shaking her head, blue eyes rolling. “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“What are you talking about?” the teenage boy scratched his head. What was he supposed to pay attention to? He always paid attention to Astrid. Well, not always, but the majority of the time when there weren’t dragon related problems or a new design he was working on at the forge then the Hofferson had his attention.

“You need to pay more attention to the rumors,” the blonde shieldmaiden spoke to him as if she were dealing with the twins—which would have been insulting if he wasn’t currently wearing a blank look—and made an indecipherable gesture towards the village. “Hiccup, Jackson’s family is dead.”

What?” Hiccup croaked, coming to a complete stop at the base of the steps and turned to face the Deadly Nadder rider who seemed to know more about this than the chief’s son did.

Astrid stopped too, hands situated on her hips with one delicate eyebrow raised into her hairline. “Seriously, why else would a twelve-summer-old move in with Gobber?”

“Fourteen,” the teenager absentmindedly corrected, his mind too preoccupied with trying to reach the same conclusion the shieldmaiden had already come to. He seemed to be missing a few pieces of the puzzle though.

“Come again?”

“He’s a hiccup, he’s fourteen winters old.”

“What, really? Never mind, that’s not important,” it was Astrid’s turn to be caught off guard, yet she waved it off as if it had never happened. “Hiccup, his family is dead and from what he just said, the king of his homeland was executing the Druids. He’s a Druid and his family is dead.”

As the blonde spoke, Jackson’s words from earlier that evening drifted through the auburn-haired teen's mind.

“Jackson Overland, fourteen winters old, relocated descendant of the Druid Clan: Taliesin, the last member.”

Relocated…his family was on the run from the king,” Hiccup finally caught on to what Astrid was saying.

“And they are all dead now,” the shieldmaiden nodded, agreeing with his conclusion, “and we brought up those memories.”

“Oh, by Hel, now I feel like dragon dung,” the Night Fury rider cursed as his shoulders dropped, head hanging low in shame.

“Yeah, well, we all should feel that way.”

Notes:

So, Tuffnut and Ruffnut's siblings, they're the OCs I was talking about, what do you think?

Chapter 11: The Night Begins

Notes:

Yay! I'm so happy you guys like my OCs. Although, the 'Nut Siblings won't be back for a few chapters, but they will make a reappearance at some point or another.

Chapter Text

“Do you have anything I could make a strap for my shield with?” Hiccup called out into the seemingly empty smithy. He knew differently, with Grump currently asleep next to the forge, he suspected Gobber was nearby and he knew Jackson was hidden somewhere within the disarray of the stall. They had agreed to meet at the forge after all and since his duties to the Academy were supposed to be over with for the day, it meant he should have had the whole afternoon free to spend with the brunet. He didn’t, which was what he’d come to inform Jackson of.

A mop of brown hair popped up from behind the workbench Gobber had given him and looked around. When he spotted the Dragon Rider, his lips quirked upwards as he pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his pants. Hiccup watched the younger teen with a fond smile. Since they had begun working together at the smithy, the auburn-haired Viking had found the Druid liked to work on the floor more than the actual workbenches which should have him covered in dirt and grime. Yet, somehow, he always managed to stay relatively clean.

Today was no different. The new sleeveless white shirt—the one which had been gifted to him as a token of appreciation from the mother of the dark-haired girl he saved from the cracking ice—was spotless. Not to mention, it looked exceptionally good on him. Though, the blacksmith’s apprentice wondered if Jackson knew there was a smudge of soot under his left eye.

“Depends, do you want fur or leather?” the teenager asked ducking back down behind the workbench. Hiccup heard some rummaging and clattering as the brunet continued with whatever he was doing.

“Whatever’s available,” the auburn-haired teen waved wincing when there was a loud thump followed by a yelp.

“Well, I have a scrap of leather around here somewhere, I used the last of the fur in the shop,” Jackson’s muffled voice echoed slightly as if he was speaking through a metal object. A few scraps of leather and fabric were thrown up and on top of the workbench, covering the litter of metal bits already occupying the surface. Some of it, Hiccup knew was his mess, but he also knew some of it was Jackson’s as well. Finding what he was looking for, a pleased sound emanated from the brunet as he held up a piece of leather and stood up. “It’s deerskin.”

Hiccup took the slice of leather and rubbed his fingers over the skin. “This’ll do.”

“Mm’kay. So, since Snotlout has taken to wearing my pelt he stole from me—" the Druid began putting away the discarded scraps back under the table.

“I could get it back for you,” the chief’s son quickly offered, pausing in his own search for a sharp object to cut the leather. He couldn’t find a regular blade, but he did find one of Gobber’s prosthetic attachments with a knife at the end. He ended up using it with a silent vow to clean his space sometime in the near future.

“Nah, that’s fine, it suits him better than me. Besides, that’ll mean all the work on my new cloak will have gone to waste,” Jackson held up a long blue mantled cloak for the Viking to see. The hood on the article of clothing was unusual, but it was the white fur lining that also decorated the edges that caught Hiccup’s attention. Such a color would not last long on Berk without becoming dull and stained in a matter of days if not hours. “What do you think? I based it off of a cloak my mother gave me. Although, I had to add the extra fur for warmth and the hood is in reminiscence of my hoodie. I stayed up late to finish it for today’s trip to the other side of the island. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find the plants I need to make more dyes. I used up the last bit of blue dye while making it.”

“About that,” Hiccup laughed nervously, discarding the scraps he had cut from the leather.

“What about it?” the teenager asked, lowering the cloak and giving his full attention to the Dragon Rider.

Amber eyes seemed to pierce through him and the Viking ducked his head using the excuse he was searching for a needle to avoid looking into those eyes. “See, Astrid has decided we’re going to Dragon Island for some training tonight.”

“So, what does this training entitle?” Jackson inquired slightly tilting his head to the side.

It was not the reaction Hiccup anticipated from the brunet. “Uh… well, we’re supposed to make it across the island, at night, without our dragons, or any camping gear. It’s supposed to improve our stealth skills and our Wild Dragon Defense, or so Astrid says.”

“Uh-huh and what’s the island like?” the Druid nodded, plucking a needle out from the clutter and stringing a piece of thread through the eye.

“It’s full of dragons.” Hiccup took the offered needle and began sewing the strip of leather to prevent the ends from fraying.

“Duh, with the name Dragon Island, I would hope so,” Jackson rolled his eyes and seated himself on top of the table across from the Viking. “I mean, what else is on the island? What kinds of plants grow there? Are there any mineral deposits? Other than dragons, what’s the wildlife like? Things like that.”

It took a moment before it dawned on Hiccup the implication behind the questions. He would later blame the fact his concentration was focused solely on preventing the folded leather from unraveling as he sewed, which was why he didn’t immediately catch on. Jackson wasn't being subtle at all and when it finally sunk in, the Dragon Rider jerked up and stared at the bemused brunet.

“Oh no, no way; you are not going with us to Dragon Island. It’s too dangerous. You know next to nothing about dragons,” the Dragon Rider put down his needle and thread in favor of giving Jackson his full attention to impress upon him how serious he was.

“I know what you’ve been teaching me,” the Druid interjected, taking the leather from Hiccup and continuing where the other teen had left off. “And I’ve met the other riders’ dragons.”

“That’s different! They aren’t wild dragons,” Hiccup began pacing back and forth, ranting and raving. Every once in a while, Jackson would make a noise of acknowledgment or hum. It was perfectly clear he wasn’t listening to a word the chief’s son was saying.

Tying the end of the thread, the brunet held up the finished strap for inspection. The spacing of the stitches was somewhat consistent and the overall quality of the leather was good, if a little dry. A tug at both ends of the belt didn’t result in any of the stitches popping; overall, the strap was well made for a rush job. Satisfied with the work, Jackson interrupted the ranting teenager.

“So, what are you going to do with the dragons while you trek across the island? Leave them by themselves to get into trouble? Or better yet, to follow you guys around? But wait, wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of your training drill? You’ll need someone to look after the dragons and it wouldn’t be fair to one of the others if they had to be left out, now would it?” the brunet feigned uncertainty by changing the pitch of his voice as he offered up the strap to the frowning Dragon Rider. “I can watch the dragons while you do whatever you need to do and they can look after me.”

“You’re not going and that’s final.”


“I can’t believe you’re coming,” Hiccup groaned as Toothless flew at the head of the pack, leading the way to Dragon Island.

“Don’t be like that Hiccup,” Jack chirped from behind the Viking, his left arm around the other teen’s waist shifting slightly when he leaned to the side to see the spec of an island grow larger and larger as they flew closer. He didn’t dare lean too far to prevent the numerous copper lanterns dangling from his staff from falling off the crook. Occasionally, having to readjust the grip of his right hand to keep the hook facing skywards. “You need to be more adventurous. Have some fun.”

“Oh, I am, I’m gonna be traveling across an island full of dragons without anything but a shield. Loads of fun,” the auburn-haired teenager grumbled sarcastically.

“Not what I meant. All work and no play makes Hiccup a dull boy, right Toothless?” the Guardian of Fun laughed. His laughter grew louder when the black dragon let out a croon in what he thought was agreement.

“Traitor,” Hiccup grunted shaking his head yet, there was a slight smile on his face.

Hey,” Jack exclaimed leaning to the right which threw them off balance. The Dragon Rider swiftly switched gears to compensate for the motion, correcting their stability and keeping the brunet from falling.

“Well, he is.”

“Not that. I thought I saw something,” the ex-spirit gazed down at the rock stacks extending out of the ocean below.

Hiccup gave a quick glance down as well but didn’t see anything in the dim light. “It was probably nothing.”

Jack wasn’t so sure, but let it drop as the pack of dragons descended. Toothless landed in the bay with precision one could only find in a Night Fury and the two riders dismounted. Once on the ground, Hiccup unhooked his shield from Toothless’s saddle and slid it on his right arm. The brunet then handed him one of the many lanterns balanced on his staff and the Head of the Academy nodded his head in thanks before turning his attention to the other Vikings.

“Ok, one of us is gonna have to skip the drill and take the dragons to the cave on the other side of the island. That way, they won’t interfere with the exercise,” Hiccup addressed the gathered Academy members as the ex-spirit went around handing out lanterns to the rest of the group. Just as Jack handed Fishlegs his lantern, a shriek had him turning around to see a wild, purplish-blue Deadly Nadder flying over the bay. It touched down not too far from them, ready to attack the closest perceived threat.

Before the new dragon could even get a blast off, Toothless and Stormfly were already in motion seeing how it was their riders closest to the wild Deadly Nadder. Simultaneously, the dragons discharged hefty blasts; both of which took on vastly different shapes and colors. Jack was familiar with the bluish-white blasts belonging to Toothless. The stream of dark orange and yellow flames coming from Stormfly was definitely new to him. Yet, when he thought about it, the immortal teen knew Grump spewed lava, so figuring out each species of dragon had their own flame wasn’t that big of a revelation. It was interesting though.

Toothless and Stormfly pushed the other dragon back without harming it. A shriek from the wild Deadly Nadder was all the dragon could get out before beating a strategic retreat into the sky.

“Just like that,” Hiccup said impassively and sighed, shaking his head in resignation. “Ok, so the dragons are going to be staying with—"

Fishlegs stepped forward and waved a hand at himself, interrupting the chief’s son. “I think the obvious choice is—"

“—Me! I volunteer,” Tuffnut ran in front of the heavyset Viking and put himself in the limelight. Jack thought about heading off the ensuing argument. Then his mischievous side kicked in and he didn’t bother to speak up, choosing to watch how Hiccup handled things instead.

“But I have way more dragon knowledge,” Fishlegs protested, waving his lantern at the other blond Viking as if its light would make him see reason.

“Yeah, from a book,” Tuffnut deadpanned, glancing at the teenager beside him out of the corner of his eyes, an unimpressed look on his face. “But I… I feel them, in here—" he placed his hand over his heart, “—wait, where is it? In—" the Thorston repositioned his hand onto his stomach which gave out a loud gurgle, “—in here. Yeah, in my stomach. Besides, I did say, ‘Me first!’”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, uh, Tuffnut is right,” Hiccup shook his head slowly, clearly not believing those words were coming out of his mouth. The Guardian could understand the shorter teenager’s disbelief. He knew the twins weren’t the sharpest axes in the armory, but he also knew they were dedicated and loyal to Hiccup. Not that the auburn-haired Dragon Rider realized their devotion to him and Jack wasn’t about to point it out anytime soon. It wasn’t his place. “Fishlegs, no one can argue with your dragon knowledge. But if Alvin attacks with wild dragons, we need to be able to face them any time of the day or night, on our own, without help.”

“I hate it when you make sense,” the heavyset teenager conceded, his shoulders slumping while lips pointed downwards and blue eyes began to water. Fishlegs tried to hide his reaction by blinking away the accumulated tears. It seemed to work since no one else appeared to notice save for Jack. Then again, it could have been a normal occurrence and the others were being polite enough to not say anything for all the ex-spirit knew.

Tuffnut gave a victorious grin, elbowing the heavyset Viking’s stomach with his bony arm and chuckling in glee at his alleged triumph. Sadly, his victory was not to last.

“However, as I was saying before I was interrupted: Jackson has come along to watch our dragons so all of us can participate in the drill,” Hiccup stressed eyeing the Thorston who had become motionless, mouth hanging agape.

What?!” Tuffnut cried out, finally finding his voice after opening and closing his mouth when no words were forthcoming. “But—but…I said ‘Me first!’”

“Technically, I volunteered first, I volunteered on Berk, so I said ‘Me first’ first,” the Guardian of Fun corrected Tuffnut in pure delight, holding his staff with both hands and leaning against it without dislodging the copper lantern from where it dangled precariously at the top of the staff.

“That’s not fair, I call cheat!” the Viking wailed. He fell silent when Ruffnut slapped the back of his head, dislodging his helmet and sending her twin stumbling forward in an uncoordinated attempt to catch his headgear. He failed.

“Nope, I think it’s fair,” Astrid remarked, rubbing her Deadly Nadder’s nose. Stormfly let out a gurgle and bumped her nose against her rider’s shoulder. “Be good for Jackson, okay? See you later, Stormfly.”

Snotlout slung an arm around one of Hookfang’s horns and roughly patted the dragon. “You stay tough.”

“Bye, Meatlug,” Fishlegs forlornly babbled, hugging the Gronckle without caring that the twins were snickering at his show of affection. “I know you’re really gonna miss me. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“Keep Jackson safe,” Hiccup whispered to the Night Fury, scratching beneath his chin. Toothless let out a trill of pleasure when his rider’s practiced fingers reached a particularly itchy spot and leaned into the touch. Once the hand was removed and Toothless regained his faculties, he dipped his head, acknowledging the Viking’s request. “Thanks Bud, I really don’t think Jackson knows what he is getting himself into.”

“Don’t worry guys, I’ll keep your dragons safe,” Jack reassured the group overly cheerful to hide his mirth.

Hiccup definitely didn’t mean for the ex-spirit to hear him, but the winds were on his side. He'd heard the auburn-haired Viking from where he stood on the other side of Snotlout. Jack found Hiccup's concern for his wellbeing endearing, if misplaced as he had more worldly experience than the chief’s son realized. Even if he was now bound by a mortal body, Jack had the knowledge he gained as an immortal plus the newly awakening memories of the Old Religion and his life before were proving to be invaluably useful. He could look after himself.

“Thanks,” Astrid acknowledged as she passed the brunet on her way out of the bay and inland. Stormfly followed her all the way to where the Guardian stood before being stopped by a staff blocking her path.

“Just keep yourselves safe,” Jack grinned as the Deadly Nadder let out a pathetic chirp when her rider disappeared.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep everyone safe,” Snotlout boasted, trailing after Astrid. The massive Monstrous Nightmare scuttling after him endeavored to make himself appear smaller in an effort to sneak by, but he too was kept from following his rider.

“Remember, this is about stealth, not speed. It doesn’t matter how fast you get there. What’s important is how you handle a wild dragon if ever you come across one. Understand? All right. Good luck, everybody. I’ll see you back at the cave,” Hiccup instructed, standing across from the immortal teenager waiting for a still grumbling Tuffnut to head out. It took his sister having to shove him onwards every few steps to get him to leave the bay which left Hiccup shaking his head.

Barf and Belch nudged their respective riders forward, saying their goodbyes before they too joined Stormfly and Hookfang. The Head of the Dragon Academy was satisfied that all of the dragons—even Meatlug—had gathered behind Jack and he appeared to have a handle on them. With one last goodbye to his friend, the auburn-haired Dragon Rider made his own way out of the bay before stopping in his tracks and turning around to look pointedly at Fishlegs who hadn’t moved from his spot on the beach, rattling lantern held skywards.

“This is great,” the heavyset Viking muttered, which had Jack and Hiccup sharing a look. The Guardian raised his eyebrow and Hiccup just shrugged with a strained smile. “What? I’m formulating a plan.”

“Fishlegs, you can do this,” the auburn-haired teenager encouraged his distraught friend.

“Oh, man. I should have just stayed in my nice, warm bed this morning, Meatlug peacefully licking my toes. But no!” Fishlegs continued as if Hiccup hadn’t said anything.

The heavyset Viking was too wound up and the Guardian of Childhood began to wonder if Fishlegs should head out into wild dragon-infested territory. In his current frenzied state, the blond was more likely to scare himself to death with his overactive mind than be mauled by a wild dragon. Jack need not worry since the Head of the Dragon Training Academy was taking matters into his own hands and Hiccup would know if the blond was competent enough to go out or not.

“Move out, Fishlegs,” the chief’s son commanded.

“Don’t rush me. I’m having a moment,” the blond whined, glaring at Hiccup. The ex-spirit caught vivid green eyes and motioned with his head inland, indicating he should leave the bay. With a sigh, the Dragon Rider nodded and headed out leaving Toothless standing at the brunet’s side. Once he was sure the other Dragon Riders were gone and Fishlegs was too busy panicking to notice him, Jack quietly whispered out a request.

The winds swirled around him before continuing on, picking up speed. When the winds reached the heavyset Viking, they gusted passed him and stole the flame from the Viking's lantern. Almost immediately, Fishlegs bit back a scream, turning it into a whimper before rushing out of the clearing, calling after the other Dragon Riders.

“And why he didn’t just stay here and have one of you relight the lantern is the real question,” Jack commented, catching Toothless’s acid green eyes. The dragon’s pupils went wide before cocking his head to the side. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

Shrugging his shoulders, the immortal teenager planted his staff in the ground and grabbed hold of the swinging lantern with both hands. Unlatching the small pin keeping the fogged panel close, the brunet opened the door and out flew four multicolor orbs of light; one a burnt orange, another light purple, a dark green, and the last a frosty blue which buzzed around the ex-spirit frantically.

“You guys are all right, I see,” Jack laughed as the frosty blue ball of light flew right in front of amber eyes. A delicate hand on her hip and one tiny finger pointed at him reproachfully. “Sorry Periwinkle, but the lantern was necessary, I wasn’t about to let you guys get lost over the ocean. Are the rest of you okay?”

The other three lights bobbed up and down before circling around Jack once more. Periwinkle wrinkled her nose but relented in her ire. Having watched the entire event unfold—and being the closest dragon—Toothless sniffed the air and moved closer to inspect the little frosty blue faerie. Turning his head this way and that, the Night Fury didn’t seem to know what to think of the tiny beings and the Dewdrop Faeries were very much afraid of the gigantic fire-breathing dragon inspecting them.

All of the tiny creatures quickly darted away at startling speeds, hiding themselves in the folds of Jack’s clothing. “Hey now, it’s okay. These guys won’t hurt ya, will ya?”

The dragons’ gazes turn from Jack to the Night Fury who the Guardian was coming to realize was the leader of the mismatch pack, just like his rider. Toothless looked at the immortal teenager before shaking his head negatively.

“See, they aren’t going to hurt ya. Come on out, you don’t want to go back on our trade?” Jack cajoled.

It wasn’t much of a trade in the ex-spirit’s opinion. He was content telling the children of Berk stories he had enjoyed as a child and if they started putting out rowan bowls, that was their choice. The Wyldfae didn’t see it the same way and came to the conclusion they were in his debt. Jack relented in the end and requested assistance in gathering some supplies on Dragon Island hoping that would clear the debt. It didn’t. 

“I give you my word, no harm shall come to you,” the brunet swore when none of the faeries made a move.

A moment ticked by before orbs of light lifted from his person, hovering in the air not far from Jack. A sneeze from Belch had them scurrying back into the folds of his clothing.

Sighing, the eternal teenager took another approach. “Please?”

Tiny jittery chimes chattered with one another before a single burnt-orange globe of light emerged from brown locks, cautiously drifting over to the closest dragon. Toothless didn’t move as the tiny light drew closer and tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. Jack was forced to bite his bottom lip to keep from bursting out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter when he noticed the dragon was holding his breath as the faerie crept close enough to pat him once on the nose. When nothing happened, the burnt orange light zipped around the black dragon inspecting every inch of him.

“You did good, Toothless,” the ex-spirit praised the dragon, petting his head as the Night Fury let out the breath he’d been holding.

The other Dewdrop Faeries, realizing no harm came to their friend, drifted from their hiding spots and over to the rest of the dragons, curiously inspecting them. Soon, four orbs of light were happily darting from dragon to dragon, little tinkering sounds filling the air.

“Alright, now that we’ve all met—and it pains me to say this—it’s time for the work that comes before the play,” Jack gathered the attention of both Wyldfae and dragon alike. Pulling his staff out of the ground, the eternal teenager removed the lantern which Toothless lit without any prompting and received a grateful smile in return. “I know you all don’t want to be here and would rather be with your riders to keep them safe, but that is not an option. They want to run this drill uninterrupted and you’re going to have to let them.”

There were several low growls and grumbles and yet Jack could not blame them. He was—had been? Will be? Gah! Why was time travel so confusing?—a Guardian and it would be hard press for him to allow any of his charges to come into harm’s way when he could do something about it, especially if it was one of The Seven Brightest Lights. However, the Academy members—well, most of them—were set on conducting the drill without them and the dragons needed to respect their riders’ decisions.

“So, in order to keep you guys distracted, I thought maybe you’d like to do some hunting to let off some steam?” the teenager suggested bouncing on his heels.

The offer had the fire-breathing creatures perking up, eyes gleaming at the mere thought of hunting. Jack figured the dragons might be enticed by such a proposal. They were predators by nature, Creatures of Magic, and hunting was in their blood. From his observations, the Dragon Riders regularly fed their dragons, not allowing them to indulge in their baser instincts, to feel the thrill of the chase and hone their reflexes. The Vikings were unknowingly stifling their dragons and the Druid was going to use it to his advantage.

Jack took their undivided attention as a good sign. “Alright then, let’s get to work. Hookfang, Stormfly, how do you feel about hunting down some large game? Elk, deer, bears; things like that, sounds good?”

The aforementioned dragons twitched, barely able to keep themselves grounded. The Monstrous Nightmare puffed out his chest and flames flared up sporadically across his body. Stormfly, on the other hand, was doing a little less bolstering yet the spikes surrounding her head splayed outwards, betraying how excited she was.

“Great, just try not to damage the pelts too much. Periwinkle and Fawn—" the light blue and burnt orange orbs darted up and rushed to Jack, fluttering around his head “—are going to point you towards some game. Make the kills clean, if possible, okay? And please look after each other,” the two dragons chirruped which the teenager took for an affirmation. “Periwinkle, Fawn, please direct them towards the animals close to their time or sick. No unnecessary killing and absolutely no hunting the newborns and yearlings, alright?”

The burnt orange orb bobbed up and down before streaking off into the night. Hookfang didn’t stay grounded for a second longer and flew after the twinkling speckle. Periwinkle and Stormfly had a little more class and stayed around long enough to give Jack a small bow—from the faerie—and a trill—from the dragon—before they too took flight, heading in the opposite direction of the first duo.

“Barf, Belch, you’re going with Silvermist—" the dark green glowing ball flew around the Hideous Zippleback and hovered in between the two heads “—to collect some herbs and berries. I may not have eaten for a while but even I cannot stomach the bland, tasteless food they serve on Berk,” Jack scrunched up his nose and made a face at the very thought of what the Vikings’ considered editable. The two-headed dragon growled and the Guardian held up his lantern to stall any further protests. “I know it isn’t as glorious as hunting, but I can't bring myself to eat the food they serve. Gobber is already on my case to eat more and Hiccup has started too. Next time, I’ll send you guys out hunting, fair?”

Barf and Belch seemed to be thinking it over and from their expressions, the ex-spirit had the feeling they were going to object. Toothless headed off any complaints by firing a small plasma blast between the Hideous Zippleback’s front legs. Belch yipped and Barf yapped, but a growl from the Night Fury had both heads nodding halfheartedly. Silvermist’s green glow pulsed in exasperation and took to the sky with the reluctant dragon following. The image of Tuffnut's reluctant form being pushed out of the cove came to mind and Jack snickered in amusement. The dragons really did seem to take on characteristics from their riders. Or was it vice versa?

“Okay Vidia, you and Toothless—hey!” the immortal teenager yelped when the Night Fury’s tail slapped his leg.  The meaningful look Toothless gave him had amber eyes blinking before widening in understanding. “You’re going to be looking after me, as per Hiccup’s order. Well, that changes things. I guess Vidia can work with Meatlug in gathering the ore I saw on the beach instead while me and you explore the island a little bit, if that is alright with you, Mr. Black Menace?”

Toothless circled around Jack and nudged him in the back, heading away from the bay. The purple orb whirred in frustration; tiny arms crossed over her chest. Vidia was clearly annoyed she wouldn’t be flittering about the island but would be stuck on the beach. One look from acid green eyes had the Dewdrop Faerie zipping away from the irritated Night Fury and hiding in the crevices of Meatlug’s ear-wings.

Shaking his head, Jack looked at Toothless with a quirked eyebrow. “It’s been decided then, shall we be off?”

Toothless rumbled and used his head to propel him inland. The Guardian shook his head and allowed himself to be pushed.


Two large Gronckles, one chestnut brown and the second the color of sandstone, were locked in a vicious battle. The chestnut-brown Gronckle charged at his slightly smaller opponent. The second dragon didn’t back down and in turn, met the challenge head-on, literally. Their head-on collision resulted in lava spewing from both Boulder-class dragons but neither fell in battle.

Hiccup couldn't discern why the two dragons were fighting. He didn’t care either. He just needed to get through the clearing the feuding dragons were using as their battlefield. However, the Viking wasn’t about to get between them, that was just asking to visit Hel’s domain.

Looking around for anything useful, the auburn-haired teen spied something reflecting the light from the lantern. Cautiously, Hiccup crept closer. His movements were slow and calculated to prevent the Gronckles from noticing him. The Viking was in luck. Both dragons were too engrossed with each other, they never spotted him as he picked up the shiny rocks with his left hand. Hiccup didn’t have to wait long for an opening to lob the stones between the dueling Boulder-class dragons and watched in amusement when they ceased their battle in favor of racing after the rocks.

“Quartz. You guys are so predictable,” the teenager chuckled as he trekked through the vacated clearing on the lookout for any more quartz.

Hiccup didn’t find any which was probably the reason why the two dragons were fighting to begin with. By removing the source of their contempt, the Gronckles were forced to either continue their brawl and lose their food or chase after the quartz. An easy remedy to a potentially dangerous situation; now, if only the rest of the drill turned out to be as simple, then he didn’t need to worry.

His hopes were quickly dashed at the sight of a faint glow of a campfire coming from the valley below.

“Are you… Campfire? Really? How is this stealthy?” his smile turned to a frown as he shook his head completely exasperated at the sheer audacity of Snotlout or the twins—because who else could it have been?—to disregard the purpose of the exercise.

Even if this was technically Astrid’s drill, Hiccup did not appreciate any half-assed attempts. The training exercises were important with the threat of Alvin and the Outcasts hanging over their heads. They barely managed to survive some of the man’s last attempts to conquer Berk and most of it was due to sheer dumb luck on the Dragon Riders’ behalfs. He was not about to let any of the Academy members get away with treating the drill like it was another game.

Hiccup’s darkened mood changed to concern as he trekked down into the valley. The only reason he could fathom why the twins or Snotlout started a fire out of the way of the rendezvous point was that they’d gotten into trouble and needed help. The thought had the Dragon Rider pulling his shield off his back in anticipation of potential danger ahead. It also came in handy in keeping the tree branches from slapping him in the face seeing as there were no natural paths.

As the flickering firelight strayed through the trees and there were no outward signs of danger, Hiccup hollered for the most likely culprit trying to sabotage the drill. “Ok. Come on out. Show yourself, Snotlout, and I will go easy on you.”

An uneasy feeling filled him when the burly Viking didn’t answer. Not heeding any of the alarms blaring in his head, the Night Fury rider entered the clearing and stopped dead in his tracks. This wasn’t a signal fire but a campfire as he originally thought. One situated in the middle of a whole campsite littered with weapons of all sorts, some laying around haphazardly while others were protruding out of the ground as if shoved there. A large tent was set up near enough to the fire to keep it warm but not close enough to risk burning it down. More worrying was the discarded armor piled by the tent flap. All of which pointed to a long-term campsite belonging to a warrior.

Jackson’s earlier glimpse of something below while they had flown over the ocean came to mind and Hiccup wished he hadn’t waved it off as nothing. He should have listened to the brunet and investigated the anomaly. Obviously, there were more people on Dragon Island than just them. He needed to get out of there and warn the rest of the Dragon Riders. Not to mention, get Jackson and the dragons to leave the island as soon as possible.

Hiccup wasn’t given the chance. Something shot out of the trees and tackled him to the ground. Green eyes reflexively closed at the hard impact. Struggling to bring up the shield on his right arm, the Viking found he was completely pinned. Eyes snapped open when no claws or talons ripped into flesh and grew wider when he saw he wasn’t being attacked by a wild animal or even a dragon as he initially believed, but by a human.

The man above him was distinctly taller and bulkier than the Dragon Rider. A hooked nose mere inches away from Hiccup’s made it difficult for him to look anywhere else but up into crazed green orbs. The left of which had three blue streaks of war paint smeared across it in a slashing downwards angle where the color disappeared behind the cheek guards of a copper-gate helmet. Two crooked horns jutted out about a foot above the helmet’s skull cap rimmed with spikes and hid the majority of the man’s red hair. Everything else about the man was obscured due to their close proximity.

“Dagur?” Hiccup squeaked out in a combination of lack of breath and disbelief that Dagur the Deranged was looming over him. The man had eyes just as wide as the auburn-haired teenager's own, but they soon morphed into unhinged glee. Abruptly the Dragon Rider was yanked up off the ground by his arms and held up into the air to be shaken vigorously.

Despite being treated like a ragdoll, Hiccup could see the man had changed little since he had left Berk after the Dragon Riders’ staged dragon attack. Dagur still wore a sleeveless greyish-green tunic which was pretty much hidden by leather straps, spikes, and protective covering. The metal armor protecting his shoulders and knees were clearly new while his left arm wrap secured to his wrist with ragged grey wrappings had seen better days.

A leather cord crisscrossed around the man’s right arm matched the strap that kept a broadsword fastened to his back. The redhead also wore an overly large gold belt buckle engraved with a Skrill: the crest of the Berserker Tribe. The gold adornment along with the armor and weaponry were all subtle indications of Dagur’s status as the Chief of the Berserker Tribe.

“Hiccup, old friend. You’re alive!” Dagur laughed maniacally, crushing the smaller teenager against his body and smashing their faces together. The only reason their lips didn’t meet—which made Hiccup shutter even thinking of it—was because the auburn-haired teenager hastily turned his head to the side.

“Uh, last time I checked,” Hiccup gulped feeling extremely uncomfortable and thanked the gods when the other Viking held him back up in the air. “So, um… haven’t seen you since—"

“—Since you saved me from that dragon attack back on Berk. You fought off a Night Fury,” Dagur declared, cutting Hiccup off while dropping him at the same time, all without any warning. The Heir of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe landed none too gently on his feet, his metal prosthetic nearly slipping out from under him.

“Oh. Right… Yes, the Dragon Attack,” Hiccup laughed nervously, running his hand up and down the nape of his neck. His eyes darted to the side to keep from looking at the redhead, because of this, he failed to notice Dagur brandishing his broadsword from its sheath. He did, however, see the light reflecting off of the blade and turn in time to duck out of the way of the Berserker chief’s haphazard sword swings.

“You were like, bam, wham! And then, you were all, ‘Dagur, save yourself!’ And, I was like, ‘What? Ok. I’m outta here.’ But you stayed, and then you must’ve…,” the deranged man continued swinging the sword every which way. Unexpectedly, he stopped and whirled on his feet, swinging his sword to point at the smaller Viking’s throat. Hiccup didn’t have enough time to bring up his shield in defense as Dagur went from gleefully happy to dead serious. “So, what are you doing here?”

“W-what am I—I doing here?” the Dragon Rider stammered, slipping his shield off, and held both hands up in front of his torso in the universal sign of surrender. Perspiration was forming on his brow as he desperately tried to think of a plausible explanation for being on Dragon Island that didn’t include mentioning their dragons.

“Don’t answer that. I know exactly what you’re doing here!” Dagur shouted all too sure of himself. Hiccup froze as the bead of sweat rolled down his face.

“You do?” the auburn-haired Viking's voice hitched followed by his heartbeat speeding up. This was not good, not good at all.

If Dagur knew about Berk training dragons, there could very well be a war on their hands. The Berserker chief was very enthusiastic about killing dragons when he’d first arrived to sign the peace treaty nearly a year ago instead of his father, the previous chief. As the Chief of Berk, Stoick tried everything to talk him out of killing dragons. Yet when the twins’ dragon got captured, Berk’s Dragon Training Academy’s members had to stage a fake dragon attack to keep the treaty in place. Now it was in trouble, again.

“Oh, yeah. I do. You’re here for the same reason I am, Hiccup. You’re here to hunt dragons,” Dagur stated twirling his sword with a flick of his wrist. A moment later a burst of maniacal laughter came from the taller Viking.

The Dragon Rider opened and closed his mouth a few times, not knowing what else to do in the situation. He settled on closing his mouth, lips thinning in a straight line and counted to ten to calm his frayed nerves. When Dagur turned on him again—giving him an appraising look—Hiccup couldn’t stifle the exhale of breath that escaped him.

“Ok, you got me. That’s what I am here for. All by myself,” Hiccup hastily assured the Viking. The lie was horrible and not very convincing, but Dagur was either very dense or too inattentive to notice. Whatever it was, it was a good thing in the Dragon Rider’s opinion. Now, he just needed to warn everyone else about Dagur; somehow.

“So, whatever happened to that Night Fury, Hiccup?” the Berserker demanded, replacing the broadsword back into its sheath and stalking towards Hiccup. For every step Dagur took forward, Hiccup took one back. However, the auburn-haired teenager didn’t take care in looking where he was going and was pinned against a large tree after his third step.

“Oh, yeah. Well, just bad news,” Hiccup’s hands worked their way across the tree bark, trying to figure out which way to go if he needed to make a quick escape. “It got away.”

The Berserker’s face went blank and he grabbed a hold of Hiccup by the arms once more—preventing him from using his partly thought-out escape plan—and lifted the small Viking up. “That’s great news!”

“It… It is?” the Dragon Rider stuttered, his equilibrium shot at the quicksilver changes of Dagur’s emotions. Not to mention, the world around him was spinning and he felt slightly sick from the deranged Viking’s treatment. By Odin, Hiccup wished that he was bigger, then people couldn’t go around picking him up and shaking him like he was some kind of fishbone.

“Yes. New plan!” Dagur exclaimed excitedly, once again dropping the Night Fury rider. Thankfully, this time he landed on his feet without stumbling. Although, before he could even think about what to do with his feet firmly on the ground again, the redhead had thrown his arm around Hiccup’s shoulders and pulled him in close. Forcefully dragged over to the fire, Dagur yanked the Dragon Rider down, so they were huddled together on their hands and knees. “You and I are going to hunt the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death itself. We are going to take down that Night Fury once and for all.”

“Uh… Ok…” Hiccup found himself agreeing not knowing what else he could do, especially since Dagur—for some demented reason—began to howl at the moon like some mindless beast. It surely suited the Berserker, but it had Hiccup gulping down his trepidation when beady green eyes locked with his own.

“Come on. Howl with me. It feels good,” Dagur commanded, and the Dragon Rider tried to come up with a way out of doing something so demeaning. When he couldn’t think of one, he did what any good Viking would do and sent a quick prayer to the gods; specifically, Odin.

No less than a minute after the prayer was sent then the foliage on the opposite side of the fire started to ruffle and sway. Hiccup’s green eyes weren’t the only ones to be drawn to the unnatural movement in the bushes across from them. Dagur wasted no time, scrambling to his feet, drawing his broadsword as Hiccup rolled to the side and grabbed his discarded shield.

“Odin be damned!” Hiccup instantly recognized the silvery voice mumbling expletives before switching to a strange foreign language.

“By Odin, no,” Hiccup bemoaned the answer to his prayer.

Chapter 12: The Hunt for the Night Fury

Notes:

Keep in mind I'm blaming Hiccup (and Jack) for this chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hiccup wished there was a way to withdraw his silent prayer. He would have done anything to rescind it, but no amount of wishing prevented Jackson from stumbling out of the foliage. The Druid was too busy shoving a branch out of his face to take notice of the clearing’s occupants. Head ducking down as to allow trembling fingers to brush leaves out of brown locks before returning to their previous task of rubbing up and down pale arms. A vain attempt at keeping warm as neither Jackson's cloak nor his ever-present staff were present.

“When I get my hands on—" Jackson’s muttering was no longer muffled but his words halted when a sword kissed his neck.

Hiccup hadn’t seen the Berserker move, his eyes too focused on the brunet. One moment the deranged Viking was beside him and Jackson was alone, the next Dagur was clear across the clearing, back to Hiccup and blade dangerously close to the column of delicate cream-colored skin. Through the flickering flames of the campfire, keen eyes caught sight of amber orbs narrowing as they sized the redhead up and found him lacking. From the way Dagur stiffened, he too caught the gesture and leaned forward, applying considerably more pressure against Jackson’s neck. Mercifully, the blade hadn't drawn blood.

“What do we have here?” Dagur’s pleased purr drifted across the clearing. “An intruder in my camp and such an exotic-looking one too; whatever shall I do with you?”

“How about I—" the brunet started, his voice abrasive with an edge to it and Hiccup knew—he just knew—that if Jackson said anything more, he had a good chance of being beheaded where he stood.

Jackson!

Both figures turned towards the auburn-haired teenager, while as much as Jackson could move with a sword at his throat that is.

“Hiccup?” the Druid’s tone changed from a harsh pitch to a gentle timbre when he noticed the other Viking walking the long way around the fire to come up alongside the brunet.

“You know this boy?” Dagur asked, looking between the two in suspicion.

“Uh—yeah. He is… um… He’s not a Viking…er…He’s—He’s a Druid,” Hiccup struggled to produce some kind of explanation. Discreetly he adjusted the shield secured to his right arm in preparation. If his justification didn’t hold up to scrutiny, the Chief of Berk’s son was willing to break the treaty to save Jackson’s life. He just hoped he didn’t have to.

“I thought you said you came alone?” the Berserker growled out, not bothering to look away from Jackson which unnerved the Dragon Rider even more.

“I did,” Hiccup insisted, his mouth working faster than his brain. It was no wonder he ended up regretting the words spilling from his mouth in lieu of taking a moment to think. “Unless you consider spoils of war as people?”

The auburn-haired Viking ignored the way Jackson’s head snapped towards him, eyes impossibly wide. But Hiccup didn’t dare divert his attention away from the crazed green eyes staring him down. Not when the Druid’s life was literally on the line. Hopefully, Jackson wouldn’t hold this against him.

“Spoils of war?” Dagur asked eagerly, finally lowering the broadsword much to the other Viking’s relief. “I didn’t realize Berk had been on any raids. For that matter, I haven’t heard of any pillaging going on lately either.”

And as far as Hiccup knew, the Hairy Hooligan Tribe hadn’t gone on any raids nor had they done any pillaging since Hamish the First. They were too busy with dragon attacks to go plundering about and the closest they’d come to raiding anything was the failed attempt to raid the Red Death’s nest. By now, the custom had fallen out of practice for the people of Berk. They were warriors through and through, but they weren’t about to raid and pillage without just cause. Thankfully, Dagur knew none of this.

“Uh, well…the Druid wasn’t a spoil of war for us, but a king from a faraway land who gave him to my father as a gift,” Hiccup rambled, expounding upon the lie in hopes of making it even the least bit convincing. Eyes briefly flickered over to the brunet, silently pleading with Jackson to play along. Miracles of miracles, not only did Jackson understand him—judging by the minuscule nod from the Druid—but Dagur bought the lie.

“Ah, that explains his exotic looks,” Dagur leered at the brunet, sheathing his sword and began circling. “He is definitely different, but he has a rather pitiable form. I guess that’s why your father gave him to you, since even you, my muscularly challenged friend could keep him subdued.”

“That is exactly it,” Hiccup laughed nervously and glanced back towards the younger teen. The fake grin slid from his face at the sight of the livid Druid. Jackson appeared to be a hair’s breadth away from mauling the Berserker and he might have too, if Dagur’s next word hadn’t frozen them both to the spot.

“What do you want for him?”

What?!

“A trade Hiccup, a trade. As I said, his looks are exotic and he would make a good pet. Surely, you’d like something in trade?” the Berserker calmly strolled around the fire leaving behind an enraged brunet and an equally repulsed Dragon Rider.

“I uh…,” Hiccup was rendered speechless. He couldn’t believe Dagur’s audacity. To request a person as if they were a commodity was barbaric, unthinkable, disgusting.

“He can’t,” Jackson finally spoke. Auburn hair whipped into green eyes as they landed on the rigid form next to him. Amber eyes narrowed and Hiccup almost took a step back at the intensity in those eyes.

“Oh, and why is that?” Dagur rounded on him, flames reflecting in his eyes, giving the Berserker an unsettling appearance. This time, the Dragon Rider did step back. The Druid stood unaffected.

“When I was gifted to Hiccup, the king bound me by magic to the Heir of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe instead of himself at the chief’s request. I cannot go against Hiccup or leave his side for too long or I will perish,” the Druid’s silvery voice weaved his lie into the growing web of deception the auburn-haired Viking began.

“Pity, I would have loved to play with him,” the deranged redhead complained dejectedly, plopping down on the log situated next to the campfire. It was only because Hiccup was standing behind Jackson that he saw the shiver go up the younger teen’s spine. “So, why’d you bring him with you then, Hiccup?”

“Well… as a Druid. He has some special abilities to help track down the Night Fury that got away,” the Dragon Rider struggled to concoct a suitable explanation. It might not have been as convincing as Jackson’s lie had been but it worked.

Brilliant! Let us feast before we hunt,” Dagur’s excited demand had Jackson and Hiccup exchanging worried looks.

Their attention was quickly diverted back to the deranged Viking by a glimmer of metal as one of the many weapons stuck in the ground was pulled free. Hiccup’s heart jumped to his throat when Dagur raised the dagger and plunged it into the large chunk of meat slowly roasting over the fire. Then he repeated the gesture a few more times, for what reasons, the Night Fury rider couldn’t fathom.

Satisfied they would not be overheard as Dagur minced the meat, Jackson rounded on the Dragon Rider with a sharp low hiss on his lips. “Start talkin.”

“Dagur the Deranged: Chief of the Berserker Tribe and tentative ally of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe; however—as his name implies—he is deranged with a mindset of kill first, ask questions later. He would have beheaded you if I hadn’t stepped in,” Hiccup spilled, being sure to keep his voice barely above a whisper as vibrant green eyes tracked the Berserker currently licking the bloodied blade while moaning in pleasure. “Listen…just—play along. We can’t afford to lose the Berserker tribe as allies, not with the Outcast Tribe currently out to get us.”

Brown eyebrows furrowed further together in either a sign of contemplation or confusion, Hiccup couldn’t tell which but his heart finally quit racing when the brunet gave a curt nod. “I can do that. One thing, what’s this about me being able to track Night Furies?”

“Ah, apparently, we’re going to be hunting dragons—" there was a short pause as vivid green eyes scanned the tree line, “—and where are the dragons?”

Jackson turned away with a huff, eyes darting down and to the left. “Your lovely Night Fury decided to take off with my staff and cloak when I set them down to collect a few things from the bay. Since the rest of the dragons were preoccupied hunting, I thought nothing of leaving them as they were to chase after Toothless.”

“He took your cloak and staff?” Hiccup groaned, wondering what had gotten into the dragon. Thoughts which were quickly shoved to the side when he caught sight of the Druid shivering at the mention of his missing cloak. Hands once again rubbing warmth into his uncovered arms, the sleeveless white shirt providing little protection against the elements. “You okay?”

“Fine, just tell me more about this Dagur.”

“Long story, I’ll explain later, promise,” Hiccup waved the Druid off as he stood to slip off his fur vest. They didn’t have time for storytelling and the brunet was sure to wrench the whole story from him in vivid details, but that could wait.

“You better,” Jackson growled, amber eyes flashing. “You so owe me for this.”

“You did want to come along,” the Viking reminded him.


“Hiccup, ever since I left Berk, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Dagur shattered the blessed silence. Hiccup started at the sudden comment, forcing himself not to put even more distance between himself and the deranged Viking sitting on the other end of the log in an effort to appear amicable. Jack had no such problems. Then again, he was forced to sit on the ground next to his ‘Master’s’ feet and Dagur paid the ex-spirit less attention so he could get away with it. Not to mention, it allowed him to move closer to the fire. He was practically frozen without his cloak.

A cloak which Jack wasn’t quite honest about what happened to it. The eternal teenager just didn’t think Hiccup would’ve believed him if he told the shorter teen Mr. Vadderung had shown up and specifically requested to borrow his staff and cloak for the evening. One did not say no to a god and so, the ex-spirit had reluctantly handed over the objects with a little trepidation on giving up his staff.

A fear which quickly morphed into annoyance when the god proceeded to inform the Night Fury his rider was in a spot of trouble. The ever-loyal dragon immediately took off in search of Hiccup. Not waiting to hear what more Mr. Vadderung had to say and effectively leaving Jack behind. Even if the old man was answering someone’s prayer—or so he claimed—the Guardian of Fun would have his revenge.

Pink hair. That is exactly what he would do, he would dye Mr. Vadderung’s hair pink.

“Well… that’s kind of strange. I’m—flattered?” Hiccup stammered, yanking the brunet from his plans of revenge.

“Not you personally. You and that Night Fury. It’s like… you knew that dragon. You were inside its head, rattling its cage,” Dagur waved his left hand about nonsensically while his other hand drew his broadsword for the fourth time since Jack had arrived and wildly gesticulated it around. “And that, my muscularly challenged friend—" he resheathed the blade he undoubtedly would be pulling out again in another few seconds “—that’s when I decided I needed to know about dragons, too. So, I came here, and I learned about them one by one.

“The Deadly Nadder—" here, the deranged Viking—who could give Pitch Black a run for his money as the Guardian was beginning to learn—pulled out a red and blue spike from a pile of swords “—got this in the leg. It was awe~some! The Monstrous Nightmare. Look at it. Not so monstrous now, are you?”

Dagur chucked the spike behind him and surged forward, almost stepping on Jack in the process to point out his next trophy. Amber eyes followed the direction of the finger and found a spear dug into the ground like a pike with a dragon skull on the end. Disgust welled up inside of the ex-spirit and he had to bite back the urge to punch the revolting Viking straight in the face. The inhuman redhead was killing Creatures of Magic, he was killing dragons.

He was just like Uther Pendragon.

The only thing which kept him grounded was the equally revolted look on Hiccup’s face. Jack noticed the Dragon Rider was gritting his teeth, coiled tight to keep himself from retaliating and the Druid found himself doing the same. After the brief explanation Hiccup provided, the ex-spirit knew his actions could jeopardize Berk and the Berserker Tribe’s alliance and he wasn’t about to be the reason they went to war with one another.

That didn’t mean Jack didn’t want to put the psycho in his place.

“And don’t even get me started on the Gronckle,” Dagur continued by picking up a giant slab of meat.

The implication had Jack’s insides lurching. One hand jumped up to cover his mouth while the other pressed itself firmly against his stomach. Jack didn’t know what gods to thank the redheaded Viking hadn’t seen fit to provide him with food when he’d served Hiccup. If he had, it would have been all over the ground. It was one thing to eat the meat of animals; it was something entirely different to eat the flesh of magical creatures. It was an unspoken taboo.

“Uh… Is… Is that…,” Hiccup looked a little green in the face, one hand bracing against the Guardian’s shoulder while the other copied Jack by snaking around his stomach. He had eaten the food when it was forced upon him.

“No, it’s yak,” Dagur paused to examine the meat as if contemplating eating dragonflesh. The notion was quickly discarded in favor of resuming his ranting. “Anyway, those big boys are quicker than you’d think—"

A distant roar had the redhead clicking his mouth shut before leaping to his feet with a grunt. He discarded his meal in exchange for one of the weapons from the large pile of armaments. In this instance, it happened to be a crossbow. One he didn’t even have to look at to string a bolt as his whole head jerked every which way, attempting to locate the dragon. A dragon that could very well be Toothless. Not that Jack noticed; no, he was more worried about his stomach currently mutinying.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” the ex-spirit wheezed quietly.

“Just hold on, we’ll get out of here, soon,” the whispered reassurance was accompanied by a light squeeze to his shoulder that did little to settle the foreboding feeling growing inside the pit of his stomach. Jack’s biting comment died in his throat when Hiccup released his shoulder, and the uneasiness nearly overwhelmed him. He must have zoned out for a moment because the next thing he knew, Hiccup was distracting Dagur with heavy-handed praises. “Whoa! Nice crossbow.”

“My hunting weapon of choice. You carry…” the Berserker gazed down at the shield resting next to Jack. “Hmm. Just a shield?”

“Yeah—yeah. Just… just a shield. Just a plain, old shield.” If he didn’t think the contents of his stomach might come up, Jack would have snickered at the comment. Hiccup's shield was just as much as a plain, old shield as he was just a plain, young mortal human. Even now, the chief’s son patted the shield fondly as any inventor would do for their successful inventions.

“Very…ornate,” Dagur jeered smugly. “My sister had one like that. I myself have never felt the need to hide in combat.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup gritted out, making a visible effort not to flinch at the maniacal howls of the deranged Viking. Jack couldn’t blame him. The man sounded like one of Pitch’s dying Nightmares, all unearthly and ghastly that sent chills down even the bravest of warriors’ spines. “So just how long have you been out here, Dagur?”

“Couple of days. Weeks, maybe, hard to tell. It’s all a blur when you’re on the hunt. Gotta focus,” the question was waved off as Dagur brought the crossbow to his eye, sweeping the area. That wouldn’t have been all that strange if it wasn’t for him jumping around in circles as if expecting a dragon to charge into the camp at any second.

“Weeks? That explains a lot,” Jack coughed, eyeing the unhinged Viking. In all of his three hundred years of being alone and unseen, he had never reached Dagur’s level of madness. The ex-spirit didn’t know if that was saying something about himself or about the redhead. Either way, he didn’t like the implication.

“Eyes front little man!” Dagur howled, throwing the crossbow to the ground and lunging forward to grab hold of Hiccup’s face with both hands.

Jack didn’t notice. He had his own problems to deal with when the weapon landed not a foot away from him and discharged. Muscles tensed as the bolt pierced the log dangerously close to his arm. His heart stalled before surging forth with the realization of how close he’d come to being impaled. Amber eyes slammed shut, refusing to look at the deadly projectile. The Guardian didn’t want to test how far his new mortality went, even if there was a chance, he would become a spirit once again and return to his own time, he didn’t want to die.

“Aah!” a yelp drew Jack’s attention away from his mortality and towards the two Vikings. Hiccup let out another grunt of pained protest when Dagur snaked a hand around the back of the Dragon Rider’s head and seized a fistful of auburn hair. Using his new leverage, he forced their faces closer together, mere inches away from one another. “Hey, maybe you should take a little break?”

“Not till I take out that Night Fury. I know it’s on this island, Hiccup. I can feel it right here,” Dagur hissed, releasing auburn locks in favor of pacing around the campfire. Hiccup, no longer being supported by the Berserker’s hold, sank down on the log. One of his hands instinctively reached up to rub the back of his head, wincing as fingers probed a tender spot.

Concerned for the Dragon Rider, Jack reached forward hesitantly—pausing to work up the resolve—and wove his hand around the top part of Hiccup’s leg where metal met flesh. The light touch had vivid green eyes darting down at the unexpected contact that the ex-spirit anticipated. A reassuring grin stretched across his face, calming both their nerves. The comfort was short-lived, obliterated when the Berserker chief completed his circuit around the fire and abruptly grabbed hold of Hiccup’s wrist.

Pulling the shorter teen up onto unstable feet—the auburn-haired Viking’s leg yanked from the Guardian’s hand—Dagur positioned the captured hand over his heart. “You feel it, too, don’t you, Hiccup?”

The demand—because it really wasn’t a question—and his current position had the Dragon Rider disturbed to the point he didn’t hold his tongue in check. “No. I just feel really awkward.”

Hiccup missed the taller Viking’s face twitching as he ducked his head, wincing at the faux pas. Though he definitely didn’t miss the chortles followed by the Berserker dissolving into a fit of hysterical laughter. Jack, on the other hand, saw the whole thing including the expression on the Dragon Rider’s face as he fell on his ass when the deranged Viking suddenly released his grip.

“You bring the funny, Hiccup. I’ll give you that. I’m gonna grab my gear. Then we’re gonna get us that Night Fury, brother.”

Brother?!”

“Brother?” both Jack and Hiccup echoed at the same time.

“That’s right. You and me,” Dagur agreed, heading towards his tent.

On his way he passed the brunet, the redhead scooped up his so-called favorite hunting weapon, carelessly discarded. Jack was just glad to get the stupid crossbow as far from him as possible. He went as far as biting his tongue to keep from snapping at the smugly smirking Dagur. Only when the Berserker was making inauspicious sounds in his tent did either of them release the breaths they'd unknowingly held.

“And the awkwardness continues,” Hiccup exhaled. Jack snorted and scooted closer to the Viking. They sat in silence as the noises from the tent became louder. “We’ve got to stall him. I just don’t know how.”

“Leave that to me,” Jack smirked, pushing himself to his feet. Looking up into the starless night sky, the winds picked up around him and the flames of the campfire wavered, almost going out. Raising his voice to the point Dagur would hear even inside the shelter, he spoke. “Jökul Frosti is afoot, I do not believe now is the time to go after the Night Fury, Master. He may take offense and direct his ire onto us.”

“What did you say, Druid?” Dagur demanded, his head bursting forth through the tent flaps. Teeth bared with his upper lip pulled back in a sneer while eyes hardened in fury both went unnoticed by amber orbs staring up at the faint outline of the moon hidden behind the clouds.

“I am merely giving warning to the Son of the Chief I was bound to protect in order to safeguard him from Jökul Frosti,” Jack dismissively replied. Amber eyes seemingly flared with an inner light that had nothing to do with the flickering flames as his emotions raged under the thin layer of control he barely managed to hang on to.

“And who is this Jökul Frosti?” the chief demanded, stomping from his tent right up into the immortal teenager’s face. Jack didn’t even flinch and held his head high, not giving Dagur the pleasure of seeing him look up at the taller man.

Hiccup—catching on to the brunet’s plan—took a step forward, drawing the deranged redhead’s attention to him. “You don’t know of Jökul Frosti? And you call yourself a Viking, how can you not?”

“He is important?” Dagur questioned, the anger he had shown towards the ex-spirit gone within a blink of an eye as he faced his ‘brother.’ Yet, the underlying unhinged vibe the Berserker was putting off was still there. Jack had a feeling it had always been there and would always be there. “Who is he? I must know.”

“Well, Druid, why don’t you tell him,” Hiccup gave the ex-spirit an opening, flashing him a small grin to convey the charade. A grin which Jack gladly returned.

“Jökul Frosti—” the Guardian of Fun began to weave his tale, a much darker version of the one he had told the children of Berk. He needed to fill Dagur the Deranged’s heart with terror; after all, it wouldn’t do for him to scoff at the personification of winter itself. The Viking needed to do something that Jack Frost never wanted to be associated with his name. Dagur needed to fear him.

He drew his story out as long as possible, pausing at the right times to build suspense while stalling the best he could. Nonetheless, Hiccup saw Dagur growing relentless and he was forced to intervene, coercing Jack to finish his story. After reluctantly ‘sensing’ that Jökul Frosti had been appeased and they could hunt without fear, the ex-spirit recited what he hoped sounded like some mystical revelation—but was nonsense—and pointed in a random direction to head out in.

Jack had to keep reminding himself he’d tricked his way onto the trip and following quietly behind two Vikings holding a lantern as a good ‘slave’ was his penance. At least Hiccup and his shield were in between him and Dagur with his crossbow. Otherwise, he would not have been a happy camper. Well, more so than he already was. Although, that could also have something to do with the fact he just recently realized the auburn-haired Viking had draped his fur vest over the brunet’s shoulders without him noticing.

Not that he wasn’t grateful, but this was the second time the immortal teenager wore an article of Hiccup’s clothing without realizing it until later. Something which had Jack feeling warm and fuzzy inside which was also something he was steadfastly ignoring. Such feelings were always snatched from the eternal teen, leaving behind a forsaken spirit with no memories save those of loneliness and sorrow.

Knowing the dark path his current trail of thought was spiraling down, Jack chose to shift his focus on to the narrow path instead. It was a nice path too. The winding trail was at the bottom of a gorge created by a large boulder split in half.

At one point, the small group had been traveling on top of said boulder. However, a sudden strong gale of wind knocked the deranged Viking over the edge. Sadly, he was alright and only came out of the whole ordeal with a few bumps and scratches. Jack had quietly thanked the winds when the gale slowed down into a gentle breeze and gusted around him to let him know it had been no trouble.

“Shh! That could be him,” Dagur shushed the quiet duo. Two loud steps had the redhead situated at the mouth of the gorge, crossbow aimed at the sky. His free hand jerked up in the universal sign for stop unnecessarily as both Jack and Hiccup were already brought to a halt by the Berserker blocking the path.

Listening, neither heard anything but then they caught the sound Dagur already heard. It took a moment for the ex-spirit to place the noise as loose gravel being crunched beneath the weight of a large animal. How he’d missed the sound the first time was beyond Jack. Then again, the howling of the wind as it passed through the gorge kind of deafened him to the outside noises whereas Dagur—being at the mouth of the fissure—could hear the noises unimpeded.

“No, that sounds too big,” Hiccup listened as the sound persisted, growing louder with each repetition while creating more creases in the Dragon Rider’s forehead. The immortal teen knew his worry stemmed from the concern the approaching creature could be one of their dragons. Jack wanted to tell the shorter teenager he had nothing to fear, that the faeries were looking over the dragons and vice versa but Dagur's presence kept him mum.

True to Hiccup’s words, a more yellow-than-red Monstrous Nightmare appeared on the plateau above them. A thunderous roar echoed in the gorge as the female dragon—identified as such by her smaller stature—took flight, never bothering to look down at the snack-sized humans below her. Instead, the Monstrous Nightmare went after a fleeing doe, flames engulfing the nearby brush the deer escaped through. A powerful flap of the dragon’s wings had the flames extinguished as she tried to scare the doe out of hiding.

“You’re right. I’m taking him down anyway. Just for fun,” the Berserker agreed, lining the dragon up between his crosshairs.

Before Jack could react, Hiccup shoved his shoulder into the body in front of him. The jolt was enough to send the bolt off course and flying into the path of another stream of flames, eating the arrow up in seconds. Dagur whirled around on the Dragon Rider, anger radiating from his whole body as he took a threatening step into the smaller Viking’s personal space.

How dare you?!

“He had to,” Jack quickly leapt to Hiccup’s defense—both literally and figuratively by getting in between the two Vikings—knowing the other teen was not great at coming up with lies on the spot. In contrast, he had spent most of his mortal life lying to his father and weaving stories to the town’s children about anything and everything. It was something he was good at and he was going to use his skill to Hiccup’s advantage. “The Night Fury would have smelled it.”

“They can do that?” Dagur lowered his crossbow, the angry expression falling from his face, replaced by that of bewilderment.

“Oh, yes,” Hiccup took a fistful of his vest in hand and tugged the ex-spirit behind him, giving the taller teen a warning glance, which Jack interpreted to mean be quiet. “Excellent sense of smell. It would have sensed danger and fled.”

“Look at us. You, this little runt of a—" he jabbed his finger at the auburn-haired teenager and waved his hand dismissively, “—well, you know what you are with your Druid slave. And me, Dagur the Deranged. Who would have ever thought we’d make such a formidable team?”

The Guardian held his tongue while amber eyes watched as Hiccup was yet again picked up by the shoulders and shaken. Really, Dagur was a menace and didn’t know the meaning of personal boundaries. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the Dragon Rider, it wasn’t him currently being shaken; Jack’s stomach was still queasy over the dragon meat thing. 

“Not me. That’s for sure,” Hiccup wheezed out when his feet suddenly met solid ground. The palms of his hands braced against his knees as he fought to catch a breath.

“Let’s move out,” the redhead commanded heading back into the gorge they just came from. Once Dagur was out of sight, the ex-spirit positioned the lantern to bathe its light over the bent over teen. Long fingers cautiously reached out and rested a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder before quickly retreating. The contact, however brief it was, had vivid green eyes meeting those of liquid amber.

“You okay?” Jack moved the lantern closer. He got the feeling those vivid green eyes could see through him. That they caught a glimpse of the worry on his face even if it was covered by a few layers of disdain directed towards the Chief of the Berserker Tribe. No one had ever been able to read him so easily, not even his mother and sister. It unnerved him.

“Yeah, just need to catch my breath is all,” the Dragon Rider waved him off and he hoped Hiccup didn’t notice the hasty way he broke eye contact. Jack stood to the side as the auburn-haired Viking took a few more deep breaths before standing up straight and adjusting the shield on his arm. “Come on; let’s go before he starts to get suspicious.”

“As if he would notice; he’s too focused on finding Toothless to see much of anything else,” the Guardian of Fun tried to bring some levity to the situation, but it fell flat. “I bet we could sneak away and find the others without him noticing we even left.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Jackson, he’s a trained warrior,” Hiccup shook his head, lips pulled downwards while his eyes were trained on the back of the Berserker they followed a few paces behind. The ex-spirit could recognize a warning when given one; he was not to misjudge the redhead.

“A deranged trained warrior,” Jack amended, happy when he noticed the Viking’s lips twitching upwards at his comment. The shorter teen hadn’t truly smiled since getting to the island and it brought him great joy to be the one who was able to bring about the smile even if the circumstances were dire.

“A deranged trained warrior,” Hiccup corrected, his smile growing a tad bit bigger, “yet he is still the Chief of the Berserkers. He may act however he likes, but the truth is, he has the skill to back up his position or the Berserkers wouldn’t follow him.”

With a resigned sigh, the immortal teenager nodded his head in an unspoken agreement he wouldn’t provoke the Berserker. For now.

Dagur was sounding more and more like Pitch the more Jack learned about him. He was not a threat to take idly like the rogue Nightmares Horses leftover from Easter of 2012 that the Guardian had to deal with around Burgess every now and again. No, the Viking was more like the Nightmare Men he had been dealing with before being thrown into the past. In other words, Dagur was someone he shouldn’t take lightly.

“Thank you,” the Dragon Rider smiled at him and nodded his head. “Come on, the sooner we follow the deranged Viking across the island, the sooner we can get out of here.”

Rolling his eyes, the duo exited the gorge together in time to see Dagur tilting his head up towards the rocky cliffs, keeping the ridge’s edges in the crosshairs of his crossbow. The Guardian didn’t bother wasting his time wondering about the over-embellished actions of the man was exerting to find the Night Fury. Not that Dagur would answer a ‘slave.’ The Berserker could waste however much energy he wanted while they were hunting dangerous creatures.

It was actually quite entertaining watching the man when he wasn’t getting them lost. Thankfully, Hiccup got them unlost while the deranged Viking took credit for the deed. Moreover, Jack had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the numerous Night Fury tracks Dagur pursued which—even with the ex-spirit’s limited knowledge of the different species—he could tell belonged to at least three different dragons, maybe more. None of which belonged to Toothless. Right now, if the Guardian was right, they were trailing another Monstrous Nightmare.

The tracks led them to a clearing surrounded by rocks and foliage where grunts and grumbles came from the other side of the vegetation. They must have crossed paths with another smaller animal because the noises coming from the foliage definitely didn’t belong to a Monstrous Nightmare. The atmosphere was all wrong for a dragon—or even a faerie—yet the impression the Druid got was normal for the lack of a better word.

“Shh—shh! Listen,” Dagur loudly shushed those behind him. The younger Viking let out a heavy sigh which turned into a yelp when the redhead grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him onwards. Hiccup’s prosthetic slipped out from under him when Dagur forced them to take cover behind a large boulder. Jack followed at a sedative pace and crouched down next to the Dragon Rider currently on his ass. “Smaller this time; could be the Night Fury.”

“Th—that actually sounds more like a wild yak to me,” Hiccup used a niche in the rock as leverage to get up and peer over the boulder for a peek. His entire body telegraphing his intent to prevent the Berserker from murdering any dragon. Jack could easily read the grim determination on the auburn-haired Viking’s face and he knew whatever hastily made plan Hiccup was currently concocting was a bad idea.

The Guardian knew he should say something to alleviate Hiccup’s fears, but he couldn’t. Not without Dagur overhearing and the man was already suspicious of Jack. Contrariwise, if he didn’t say anything and Hiccup disturbed the deranged Viking for a second time then the Dragon Rider would be under suspicion. Either option was grim.

All Jack could do was watch as Dagur put the rustling greenery in his crosshairs, a twitching finger on the trigger, as Hiccup reached for the weapon. There was no way for him to prevent either Viking from their intended course of action. Jack didn’t have to.

The burst of mirth, which was quickly covered up with a plausible faked sneeze, couldn’t be held back. Not that the immortal teenager tried too hard as Snotlout stumbled out from the two bushes. However, it was Hiccup’s dry remark that converted his fake sneezes back into laughter.

“Eh, close enough.”

Snotlout, occupied with pulling the twigs and leaves out of his hair and clothing, must have heard the distinctive nasally voice and looked up. His face brightened when he noticed the Head of the Dragon Academy and hastily made his way to meet the group emerging from behind the boulder. Jack quirked an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic display and absentmindedly wondered what the broad-shouldered Viking had gotten himself into in the time they had been separated.

“Hiccup! Whoa, am I glad to see you,” Snotlout blabbered on, waving his lantern around dangerously and completely missing the discreet gestures from the auburn-haired teenager to stop talking. “You would not believe what I’ve been through. This place is crawling with wild dragons.”

“It is called Dragon Island, Snotlout,” Jack’s sarcastic remark drew the other brunet’s attention towards himself and in extension, towards the Berserker’s chief.

Dagur! What are you doing here?” the brawny brunet gushed, abandoning Berk’s next-in-line to go to Dagur’s side. The exuberance he had upon seeing Hiccup almost tripled when his eyes landed on the redhead. His face nearly split in half, posturing by puffing out his chest and flexing his arm muscles.

“Snot… hat, is it?” the redhead eyed the shorter Viking with obvious disdain and the ex-spirit could only blink in confusion when the insinuation went right over Snotlout’s head. If any of the other Academy members had said something similar—from what little Jack had come to know about the brunet Viking—he would have verbally or even physically retaliated. This wasn’t the case when it came to Dagur though.

Snotlout, much to Jack’s ire, let out a forced laugh and politely corrected him. “Snot—lout. Snot—lout.”

The burly Viking’s posturing faltered when Dagur turned away. Shoulders sunk and the dopey—fake—smile disappeared. When Snotlout turned away in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, the Guardian felt his heart go out to the boy. Hiccup—either picking up on his hostility at Dagur or Snotlout’s grief—jostled Jack towards the other brunet so he was standing behind the auburn-haired Viking and positioned himself at Snotlout’s side.

“Whatever. I thought you said you were here alone,” the maddened man rounded on Hiccup and downright ignored the Viking with hero-worship in his eyes. If Jack didn’t already dislike the man, he would have started to now. The brunet hated it when people tried to change who they were to impress others. He absolutely loathed it when those people would then just scoff and disregard the changes they’d made to appease them.

“I—I thought I was. Snotlout!” Hiccup responded, placing a hand on the brawny teenager’s shoulder and discretely applied a liberal amount of pressure. Jack noticed an odd look entering into sharp blue eyes, eyebrows furrowing downwards. “Why, you were supposed to stay at base camp.”

“Huh?” clearly, he was not picking up on the silent conversation going on and Jack knew exactly how he felt. He had been in the Viking’s very boots only an hour earlier.

“While I am hunting dragons, here in the forest with my Druid,” Hiccup stressed out, eyes darting to Dagur and back again a few times, trying to get his point across.

The point was lost on him.

“You’re doing what in the where with who?” Snotlout scratched the side of his head just below his helmet. Vivid green eyes looked skywards and Jack could tell the auburn-haired Dragon Rider was fighting the urge to slam his head into an unoccupied hand.

“Not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, is he?” the Berserker grumbled heading on out. Walking past the two Hairy Hooligan Tribe members and the Guardian, Dagur gave off the impression he was going to resume hunting the Night Fury, with or without them.

“Not even close,” Hiccup bemoaned, eyes tracking the retreating form of the redhead. Once he was out of hearing range, the Head of the Dragon Training Academy rounded on Snotlout with a rushed, hushed explanation. “Play along. We cannot let Dagur know about our dragons. He’ll try to take them home and mount them on his wall.”

“Wait, you mean…” Snotlout trailed off. Blue eyes going wide while the color drained from his face. His whole body froze and only the swinging of his lantern threatening to fall from his lax hand had him reacting to keep from dropping it.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed, “and don’t forget Hiccup, you had the brilliant idea to tell Dagur I was a spoil of war.”

What?!” this time the lantern did fall and it was only the ex-spirit’s honed reflexes that allowed him to catch it before it could shatter on the ground. Apparently, it was more shocking Hiccup would own a slave than the Berserker mounting his dragon’s head on a wall. It was a laughable matter, one that Snotlout fully gave into.

“Laugh it up Snothat,” Jack growled out, storming after Dagur, shoving the lantern roughly into the other brunet’s chest. While he was at it, the immortal teenager made sure to stomp his feet extra loudly to scare away any nearby dragons.

Just before he left the clearing, he heard Snotlout’s not-so-discrete voice. “What made you say that?”

Jack was tempted to stay back to hear the answer, but he was too pissed off.

Notes:

Really Hiccup? Spoils of war? How could you make me write such things? But we all know how you feel about Jack, even if you don't realize it yourself at the moment.

Chapter 13: The Fury Left Behind

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long until the growing group ran into another Academy member. Literally. Snotlout had been bringing up the rear, inconspicuously looking for any signs of their dragons. For unknown reasons though, he was taking the assignment given to him by Hiccup very literally and was walking backwards.

Fishlegs—who had also been walking backwards for whatever reason—had come out of the foliage after the others had walked by and backed into the shorter Viking. Both had jumped and screamed. The heavyset Viking was a finger away from losing his hold on the lantern in his right hand whereas Snotlout nearly bashed the blond in the head with his own lantern when he swung around. Thankfully, the brawny brunet diverted the blow at the sight of the blond, yet the whole ruckus managed to attract the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

“Fishlegs,” Hiccup came to the rescue, getting the two screaming teenagers to shut up with the simple—stressed out—word. Both were heaving yet the heavyset Viking was trembling from the sudden jolt which had the Head of the Academy placing a comforting hand on the blond’s shaking shoulder. He also used the gesture to direct Fishlegs’s attention towards Dagur standing off to the side going between glaring at the Vikings of Berk and leering at Jackson. “Would you look? It’s Dagur, who is also out hunting dragons, just like us.”

“Yes. We are dragon hunters out hunting dragons,” Snotlout jumped in—his voice uneven and forced as he annunciated each word carefully—throwing his arms around Hiccup and Fishlegs. Sharp blue eyes darted around frantically as he fought to keep from flinching at the thought of his dragon being hunted.

“Hiccup, your definition of ‘alone’ and mine are very different,” Dagur tilted his chin downwards, frowning. His eyes drifted uninterestedly over the group before landing on the newest member of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. His glare soon turned to an appraising look as he took in Fishlegs’s vast size. “But perhaps, this one can help us—"

“—hunt dragons! `Cause that’s what we are doing: hunting,” the brunet Viking unconsciously tightening his hold on both his shieldbrothers’ shoulders to the point they were both grimacing. He didn’t want Hookfang’s head hanging on anyone’s walls.

Dragons,” Hiccup emphasized with a pointed look.

Thankfully, it was Fishlegs they were dealing with and not the twins, because he was able to catch on to the blatant hints being thrown around. “Ok, got it.”

“Druid! Where should we be heading?” the Berserker whirled around to glare at the brunet standing off to the side.

Clearly, Dagur was not happy with the increasing number of people in the group and since he couldn’t take it out on the Vikings of an allied tribe, he took it out on Jackson instead. Shoving the slender body, the brunet should have fallen to the ground. However, he was paying particularly close attention to the deranged man since amber eyes had been glaring at him the entire time. As it was, Jackson was able to turn his body just right to absorb the blow and stumbled back a step due to the force behind the jolt. But the Druid didn’t fall, which further infuriated Dagur.

Fishlegs, having witnessed the whole ordeal, attempted to catch vivid green eyes with his own but Snotlout caught his attention instead. With a slight shake of his head, the brunet Viking indicated for him to keep silent. Wisely, the Gronckle rider closed his mouth but that didn’t prevent gentle green eyes from wandering over to the Head of the Academy.

The chief’s son was barely holding himself back. His whole body rigid and coiled, hands clenched into tight fists as teeth ground together. He seemed to be about to break yet a flash of gleaming amber had all of the Vikings of Berk frozen in their place.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson made a show of ‘sensing’ which direction they should head in. If he still had his staff, Hiccup thought he could have made an even bigger spectacle of it, but for now, the Druid made do with what he had. Closing his eyes, the teenager slowly turned in a circle. He stopped every once in a while as if to listen to something the Vikings couldn’t hear only to resume his circle once more. Finally, he pointed in a random direction as amber eyes sprung open.

“That way.”

“Ho-ho! Forward,” Dagur commanded, rounding on the others and singling out the auburn-haired Dragon Rider. Grabbing the smaller Viking’s arm, he pulled the teen forward and threw his free arm over Hiccup’s shoulder. As he passed by Jackson, he eyed the glaring Druid before smirking at the Viking in his grasp. “You know, we’re a lot alike, Hiccup.”

“Really? How… How’s that?” Hiccup stuttered swallowing hard, his nose wrinkling at the man’s actions. He didn’t know what was running through the Berserker’s mind about his association with Jackson and he didn’t think he wanted to know either. Especially since Dagur had mentioned the brunet’s exotic appearance a few more times throughout their hunting trip followed by him licking his lips right after.

“Well, we’re both born leaders,” the redhead shrugged, not that Hiccup was paying much attention since he kept finding himself glancing over at Jackson. The brunet was too busy filling in Fishlegs on what was going on to notice. Although, vivid green eyes did narrow upon catching sight of Jackson rubbing his shoulder where Dagur had shoved him for the third time. The action instilled a need in the chief’s son to go check him over for any lasting damage. The Berserker’s presence was a strong reminder of why that would be an unbelievably bad idea.

“Oh, yeah. He’s right about that,” Snotlout responded for his preoccupied leader, breaking the teenager out of his worries. If he had noticed the auburn-haired Viking’s lapse in attention and was covering for him or if he just wanted to talk to Dagur, Hiccup didn’t know. Either way, he still appreciated the save and gave a nod of approval in Snotlout’s direction.

“Sons of Chiefs,” the Berserker continued on, not even phased that it wasn’t Hiccup who answered him.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Hiccup absentmindedly nodded, vivid green eyes still locked on Jackson as he rubbed his shoulder for the fourth time.

“Who had to be eliminated so we could gain control!” Dagur whipped his crossbow to the left, finger twitching to pull the trigger.

“Yes… what?! No, no!” the auburn-haired Viking suddenly stopped, eyes darting away from the Druid and on the crazed face staring down the crosshairs of his weapon. “My dad hasn’t been eliminated from anything.”

“But he could, easily,” Dagur eagerly offered, petting his crossbow lovingly. “Just say the word and…”

Spinning around, the Viking pulled the trigger. The bolt soared passed Snotlout, nicking him on the cheek and drawing a line of blood before continuing on. Fishlegs screamed as his lantern was roughly jerked out of his hand, taken by the projectile. Jackson dropped down, one hand planting itself firmly on the ground as he rolled forward and pushed up. Twisting his body in the air, the Druid landed on his feet and held up his lantern which miraculously hadn’t gone out. Amber eyes glanced back at the tree with Fishlegs’s lantern hanging from the bolt protruding out of the trunk.

The only sound to be heard was the metal of the lantern creaking as it swung back and forth.

Hiccup almost stopped the charade then and there, ready to shout at the Chief of the Berserker Tribe for daring to endanger the members of his tribe. Jackson could have been killed by his little stunt. He was terrified for the Druid—Dagur had aimed directly at the younger teenager, intentionally or unintentionally was still up for debate—and enraged at the redhead’s sheer audacity to fire upon someone under his protection.

He wasn’t the only one angry. The winds gave the impression of being just as upset as well. What had been only a mild breeze turned into a raging gale within a matter of seconds after the bolt had been fired. The auburn-haired Viking was quick to raise his shield to block the debris from pelting his face whereas the others only had their arms to protect their faces. That is, only Fishlegs and Snotlout used their arms to protect themselves. Dagur was too busy staring at a large rock to even care about the howling winds.

As for Jackson, he didn’t seem to be affected by the harsh winds. In fact, the winds appeared to be circling around him calmly, almost like they were caressing him, which was utterly impossible. Still, Hiccup watched as the brunet’s lips moved like he was softly speaking to someone yet not one word could be heard over the howls. Then, just as suddenly as they began, the winds died down.

Taking a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself that his father would be displeased if their alliance fell through, the chief’s son continued on with the farce. “Yeah, that’s something to think about.”

Dagur didn’t seem to hear him and held up a hand in an old hunting signal as he crouched down low. Rolling his eyes, Hiccup copied the redhead and crouched down, holding up his own hand to signal the others behind him. Snotlout dropped to his knees upon seeing the signal and held up his own hand which had Fishlegs following his lead. Not knowing what else to do, Jackson hunkered down as well.

Out of the corner of amber colored eyes, the brunet caught sight of Astrid creeping up on Snotlout before lightly grabbing ahold of his raised hand. The Viking startled and swung his other fisted hand to punch the person who dared touch him. Yet, when he saw it was Astrid, he froze. She, in turn, raised her free hand and put a single finger to her lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. It didn’t work.

Ast—!" the word was abruptly cut off when Astrid used her grip on Snotlout’s hand to punch him in the face with his own fist. She then made a hasty retreat when Dagur’s head whipped around to glare at the broad-shouldered Viking. He barely missed the shieldmaiden’s feet disappearing into the bushes she'd previously used for cover moments prior. The only indication of her presence was the rustling of leaves and the pained groan coming from Snotlout.

Dagur let out a heavy sigh and looked back at the burly brunet with a scowl. “Which one of your friends is it going to be this time?”

“It’s hard to say,” eyeing the tall brush in front of him, Hiccup shrugged his shoulders.

Their luck, sadly, had finally run out and a dragon growl ripped through the air. A growl Hiccup was very familiar with and pair that up with the telltale whine of a Night Fury winding up to fire, he felt his heart drop. He was proven correct when a plasma blast came within inches of hitting Dagur. The only reason the redhead wasn’t burnt to a crisp was due to the warrior reacting on instinct and had jumped out of the way in the nick of time.

Looking up, the Dragon Rider saw his dragon’s head peering over the smoldering foliage. Acid green eyes were mere slits as they fixated on the Berserker. His lips pulled back to reveal sharp white teeth as another growl rented the air.

The Night Fury! Hiccup, my brother, you’ve done it! You’ve led me right to it,” Dagur clapped a stunned auburn-haired Viking on the shoulder in congratulations before pulling his weapon up to his right eye. He took only enough time to haphazardly line up Toothless’s head in his crosshairs before the Berserker applied pressure to the trigger. “Arrow, meet dragon. Dragon, meet—"

“No, no, Dagur, wait!” the chief’s son barked out, shaking out of his stupor at the sight of Toothless in danger. He was even more stunned when the redhead actually listened to him and Dagur lowered the crossbow. The look he received told Hiccup if he didn’t have a good enough reason for stopping him, his life might very well be forfeited in Toothless’s place. “I… I—I would like to do it.”

The Berserker looked bewildered at first before the meaning of the words dawned on him.

“I saw him first!” Dagur whined, stomping his foot petulantly and jerking a finger at Toothless.

If it had been anyone else, they would have found it odd the Night Fury hadn’t already flown off into the night. As it was, the crazed man repositioned the crossbow, lining up his shot.

“Yes, but I led you to him,” Hiccup futilely strove to reason with the deranged man, grabbing onto the top of the weapon and yanking it out of his hands.

“But I brought the crossbow. All you brought was that useless ornate shield,” Dagur reclaimed the crossbow and shoved the auburn-haired Viking to the side. “Now, stand aside.”

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy prepared to throw himself at the Berserker stalking towards Toothless to prevent him from shooting said dragon. He was saved from making a fool of himself when a flock of Terrible Terrors came out of nowhere and flew right into the redhead’s face. The bolt from the crossbow shot forward, but it went wild and embedded itself into the tree next to Toothless instead of in the dragon.

Whilst the small dragons were assaulting the Berserker chief—much to Jackson’s amusement—Hiccup used one of the newer hand signs the Academy members taught their dragons to signal Toothless away. Reluctantly, the Night Fury followed his rider’s orders and disappeared back into the forest, but not without a backward glance.

While Toothless made his escape via treetops, an angry Astrid sauntered into the clearing from behind the very tree the Terrible Terrors had come from. “What’s wrong with you? I almost had those Terrible Terrors. They were right in my hands.”

“Terrors, shmerrors. We’re hunting a Night Fury here,” Dagur growled, glaring down into raging blue eyes. Thus, the deranged hunter fell for the shieldmaiden’s distraction, giving Toothless ample time to get away. Something the redhead didn’t fail to notice and in turn, glared at Hiccup for his underlings’ shortcomings. “Did you leave anyone back on Berk?”

Dry chuckles escaped Hiccup as he adjusted his shield on his arm again. “Very funny, Dagur.”

The man just grunted and appeared to want to punch someone. He seemed to have thought better of it and whirled around, stomping his feet as he headed over to retrieve his bolt. Only when he was preoccupied with tugging at the arrow firmly embedded in the tree did the shieldmaiden deem it safe enough to speak without being overheard.

“Did he say, ‘hunting a Night Fury?” the Deadly Nadder rider harshly whispered into Hiccup’s ear.

Vivid green eyes flickered over to the Berserker before turning back to the blonde and grimly nodded. “Yep. That’s exactly what he said.”

“But Toothless is…” Astrid trailed off, glancing over to where the Night Fury had been only moments before.

“I know,” Hiccup sighed stoically before quickly explaining the situation. “Jackson was watching the dragons but then Toothless decided to take off with his things and he followed. He didn’t think he’d be gone long and left the rest of the dragons behind. I doubt they are where Jackson left them now. You guys need to find Ruff and Tuff, grab your dragons, and get out of here.” The shieldmaiden opened her mouth to protest but Hiccup beat her to it. “Don’t worry. Dagur won’t hurt me. I’m his ‘brother.’”

As if being summoned, the redhead was at the Head of the Academy’s back, hooking his arm around the smaller teen’s shoulders and completely missing the thick atmosphere. What was more, the newly loaded crossbow which was in the hand Dagur had thrown over Hiccup’s shoulder was pressed dangerously close to the Night Fury rider’s heart.

“Come, Hiccup, while the trail is still fresh.”

“I—I,” the auburn-haired Viking faltered for a moment as his mind toiled to put together a plan. Turning toward Astrid as much as Dagur's hold allowed, Hiccup did his best to convey his plan as he was dragged away. “I can’t hunt with an entourage. Go back to Berk. Leave us to our business.”

As he was being pulled further away from his friends, Hiccup felt relief he could finally get Jackson to safety. The rest of the Dragon Riders would make sure he was alright. He just hoped the Druid wouldn’t still be mad at him by the time he finally got around to ditching Dagur.

A second glance behind him to check on Jackson had him perplexed by the Druid currently staring up at the rockface high above them. Following Jackson's gaze, the auburn-haired Dragon Rider thought he saw some flickering lights and a moment later, he saw the forms of Stormfly, Meatlug, and Hookfang peering down at their riders below. His relief at the sight of the three dragons was short-lived when Dagur shouted at Jackson which had Hiccup stumbling over thin air.

“Come Druid, follow your master.”

Yeah, he really needed to do something big for the Druid to make up for this utter disaster, but they first needed to get through the rest of said disaster.


“I don’t get it. Why doesn’t it fly away?” Dagur huffed as they chased after the black dragon across uneven terrain. Hiccup was having a tough time clambering over the slick flat rocks. His metal foot slipping, not able to find purchase and it was only because of Jackson behind him that he hadn’t fallen.

“Maybe it wants us to follow,” the Dragon Rider hesitantly offered, panting slightly as he reached the top.

“Maybe it wants to kill you,” Jackson remarked dryly at the same time; Hiccup’s voice barely loud enough to cover his words.

“You mean a trap?” Dagur asked taken back for all of two seconds before a maniacal grin made its way across his face.

The chief’s son failed to notice the grin. “Exactly. Yes. Maybe we should go back.”

“Oh brother, don’t you know that a trapper’s traps can trap the trapper?” Dagur babbled on waving his free hand about in a wild erratic gesture that made no sense to anyone who wasn’t him.

“What does that even mean?” Hiccup shook his head and shifted his weight from his leg to the prosthetic and back again when a jolt of pain shot up from his stump.

“I don’t know,” the deranged man cackled, his whole body shaking as he laughed madly.

“It means, an idiot can get trapped in their own traps,” Jackson grumbled but was ignored once again when the Berserker caught sight of Toothless and jumped off the ledge to chase after the dragon.

“We can only hope,” Hiccup gave the brunet a strained smile, one which was returned with a bit more mirth.

Huffing, the Druid followed Dagur and jumped off the ledge, landing with barely a sound. The auburn-haired Viking, on the other hand, could use a little work on his landings. His metal foot slipping out from under him at the very last second causing him to end up on his hands and knees rather than his feet. Still, the Dragon Rider pushed aside the pain radiating from his bad leg and got to his feet with a bit more stumbling.

Running after Dagur might not have been good for his leg, but it didn’t make it hurt any worse either. There were a few times where he almost lost sight of the Berserker yet it appeared Jackson never did and he kept them headed in the right direction. Although, with Dagur constantly shooting off bolt after bolt at Toothless—missing each and every time—Hiccup thought his nerves would give out long before his leg did.

“You're not gonna hit anything with that,” the breathless Dragon Rider spoke up as they reached another set of cliffs. Looking down, he could see they had made a loop and were now back near the shores of the island.

“I know that! I'm just trying to keep him running in that direction,” Dagur stated matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes and turning his back to Hiccup. He couldn’t make out what the other Viking was doing, but there was a clinking of steel against steel and then light burst out around the Berserker. A second later, a flaming arrow was soaring through the sky.

“What was that?” Jackson asked from the auburn-haired teenager’s side. There was a bit of apprehension in his voice. He didn’t get an answer, yet Hiccup was fairly sure the bolt had been a signal flare. To who? The Viking didn’t have any idea but there was someone out there Dagur was beckoning.

“To be honest, Hiccup, I didn't exactly come here alone either,” the deranged Viking turned back to face them, completely ignoring the brunet as the right side of his lips pulled up into a deformed smirk. It was all the warning either of them was going to get before several fire-lit arrows came soaring through the sky from the direction Dagur’s bolt had gone.

“Dagur, Night Furies are very lethal. A few more men won't make a difference.” Hiccup had been right; the flaming bolt had been a signal to a few people the Berserker had brought along. While there could be a few more problems with the new arrivals—having counted about five flaming arrows in total—there wasn’t much to worry about. Toothless could outwit five more Vikings.

“Oh, crap,” Jackson breathed out loud enough for only the Dragon Rider to hear, but Hiccup only half paid attention to him. He was more worried about the man before him.

“Really? You think so? Lucky for us, I brought the armada along and, like, a bazillion armed Berserkers!” Dagur made a grand gesture with his arms in a patronizing way, which caused those vivid green eyes to look up into the night sky and see what the brunet had already spotted.

Hundreds of fire-lit arrows soaring up and back down, some of them so poorly aimed that they almost nearly hit the three of them. Dagur wasn’t even fazed as the flaming arrows rained down around them, yet, miraculously none struck him. Jackson—who’d been watching the trajectory of the projectiles—was dodging the bolts, sidestepping, cartwheeling, and somersaulting out of their path. Moving from one motion to the next with inhuman grace, so when Hiccup was forced to protect himself with his shield, he felt like he took the easy way out.

"Yeah, that might actually make a difference,” the Dragon Rider chastised himself after the shower of fire ended. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? He must have been cursed, that was the only explanation he could think of as he lowered the shield.

“Oh, yeah. We're gonna drive that beast right to them, and they can finish him off!” the Berserker gloated, chest puffed out while green eyes glittered in the night due to the still burning arrows littering the ground.

“Not exactly sporting,” Jackson stated contemptuously, brushing the dirt off of the brown fur vest he was wearing.

Dagur, who had begun collecting a few of the burnt-out bolts to replenish his own supplies, whirled around and grabbed the front of Jackson’s shirt, hauling him close to his face. “I don't care about sporting! I care about killing that Night Fury and wearing its skull as a helmet!”

Throwing the much slimmer and frailer boy back, the deranged man proceeded to pick up the bolts he’d dropped in his anger and reloaded the crossbow with them. Only then did he storm off, continuing to follow the trail Toothless left. It also gave Hiccup the opportunity to make sure the Druid was alright.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Toothless needs your concern more than I do,” Jackson gritted out, slowly standing up awkwardly. Green eyes tried to find any injury but with the lack of light and the brunet walking away from him, the Dragon Rider was forced to take his word for it. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Right,” Hiccup agreed. If only he had looked a little harder, he would have noticed the trail of blood running down from the younger teen’s elbow. As it was, his fear for Toothless outweighed the concern he had for the Druid.

The sound of another bolt being fired had Hiccup running in the direction the violent Viking had gone off in. His heart jumped up into his throat while his feet froze to the spot when wide green eyes landed on Toothless. The Night Fury had taken cover behind a boulder, but Dagur never lost sight of the dragon. Currently, he was slowly making his way around back, intending to catch the dragon unaware. Toothless would be unable to get away since he would be cornered on the edge of the island, dangerously close to falling off the ledge and plunging into the ocean below.

Hiccup reached his limit.

He was fed up with the Berserker and his treatment of his friends. He couldn’t allow this charade to go on any longer. Treaty be damned.

Grimacing in anger and clenching his fists in balls, the Dragon Rider snapped, letting all of his pent-up feelings of frustration, anger, and worry explode out all at once. “Okay, that's it. I am NOT going to let you kill that dragon!”

“This again? Fine, you saw it first, you can take home a wing or something,” Dagur didn’t even bother to turn around, his voice holding the annoyance and disdain he felt at being interrupted yet again. He waved off the auburn-haired teenager like he was nothing and focused instead on getting Toothless in his crosshairs. Because of this, he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

“No, I'm pretty much gonna take the whole thing,” Hiccup seethed, cupping his left hand near his mouth, and made a passable imitation of a Night Fury call.

At the call, Dagur whipped around to face the Viking. Confusion visible in those narrowed green eyes. The redhead whirled back around at the answering Night Fury howl to find a dragon staring him down. While Dagur’s back was turned, Toothless—like his rider—decided he was done hiding and had climbed on top of the boulder he previously used as a shield.

Now that he was facing the redheaded Viking, Toothless let out a heated roar before leaping over his head and gliding across the clearing. The Night Fury landed between Hiccup and Jackson, which had the Berserker’s mouth falling open when the auburn-haired teenager didn’t even flinch with a dragon at his back. His eyes became impossibly wide when he took note of the saddle on the Night Fury’s back.

“Is that a—"

“—saddle? Yes, Dagur. That's exactly what it is,” Hiccup cut the arrogant man off bringing beady green eyes back to his person.

“So, I was—"

“—right all along,” Hiccup agreed as he mounted Toothless, his prosthetic clicking into place as he shifted the mechanical tailfin open to make a fast getaway. “We do not hunt dragons on Berk. We ride them.”

“Your father lied to… YOU lied to me!” Dagur screamed in betrayal, waving his arms in the air as he stalked closer to the dragon and his rider. Toothless roared and whirled around to face the deranged madman directly, teeth bared.

“He was trying to keep the peace between our tribes. So was I,” Hiccup explained softly, his voice going back to his original state as he wrestled his warring emotions back under control. Discreetly, he scooted forward in the saddle to give Jackson enough room to get on behind him.

“By making a fool out of ME?!” the Berserker chief raged throwing his crossbow to the ground.

“You don't need a lot of help with that Dagur,” Jackson allowed the disdain he felt for the man to coat his every word as he glared over the Dragon Rider’s shoulder at the redhead.

Being insulted by what he believed a slave, the Viking immediately went to pull his broadsword out but froze as Toothless let out another—more ferocious—snarl.

“Your move,” Hiccup growled out threateningly, just as pissed off as the Night Fury, that Dagur dared to threaten Jackson.

“You could've been my brother, Hiccup!” the redhead shook his head, taken back by the way—what he believed to be—the greatest honor of being his brother was thrown back into his face. Dagur’s whole demeanor changed at the slight on his honor and rage overtook what little rationality the Berserker possessed. “Now, you're my enemy.”

“Have it your way, but remember: We have the dragons, and we are not afraid to use them,” the auburn-haired Viking shrugged, not caring in the slightest at the threat. Leaning over, he rubbed Toothless between his ear-plates to let him know they were ready. “Let's get out of here, Bud.”

Toothless gave one last growl and took to the sky with both passengers safely on his back. Hiccup fully intended for them to join the other Dragon Riders and leave the deranged Viking behind. Dagur, however, wasn’t going to have that. The Berserker’s growing anger finally reached its peak.

Detaching a bola from his belt, he hurled it with deadly accuracy at the Night Fury. The weapon snagged the dragon’s tailfins—both black and red—and bound them together, throwing Toothless off balance. Immediately, they began to lose altitude. The dragon thrashed about in an attempt to stay in the air and it was a struggle for Hiccup to stay in the saddle even with his harness on. It was impossible for Jackson.

“Jackson!” the auburn-haired Viking shouted when he felt the arms around his waist slip away and turned in time to see amber eyes widen as the teenager fell.

Toothless dove down despite his own difficulties without Hiccup’s command, in an attempt to catch the falling brunet. Another bola wrapped around the Night Fury’s whole body, binding his wings and paws to his chest while sending dragon and rider crashing to the ground. A third bola had Toothless immobilized as it wrapped the dragon’s mouth shut, preventing him from blasting his way to freedom.

Dagur didn’t let up and screamed out a battle cry, running towards the downed dragon with his broadsword drawn. He was a foot away from sinking steel into dragonflesh when Jackson came out of nowhere, ramming a shoulder into the charging Berserker. The impact was enough to send both of them toppling over and dislodge the broadsword from Dagur’s grip.

As the two tumbled to the ground with Jackson on top, Dagur used the momentum to kick the brunet and flipped him onto his back in one motion. Having knocked the wind out of the Druid, he quickly regained his feet and collected his discarded crossbow within seconds. This time when Dagur went for the kill shot, he was stopped by Hiccup. The Dragon Rider put himself in between the two and used his shield to deflect the bolt off to the side.

Grinning manically, Dagur whirled around on his feet and leveled the crossbow at the defenseless Druid. When he pulled the trigger, there was a useless clicking that turned his triumphant grin into a frown. Only then did he notice he’d run out of bolts. In the amount of time it took him to reload the weapon, Hiccup used his shield as a throwing discus to disarm the Berserker.

Beady green eyes snapped to the unarmed auburn-haired teenager and made a show of pulling a few daggers from his belt. Dagur hurled several of them at the Dragon Rider, only for them to be blocked by Jackson when he dove in between the two with the shield as his only protection. How the Druid had managed to catch his breath, let alone retrieve the shield and get between the two of them in the brief period of time was truly astounding. Especially without either Hiccup or Dagur noticing him; nevertheless, Hiccup was not about to question it. Not while the Berserker was occupied with tossing dagger after dagger at the two of them.

Toothless, despite his tussled-up state, wasn’t about to allow his rider to come to harm and used his tail as a whip, landing a glancing blow. The strength behind the unexpected assault sent Dagur sailing forward and skidding across the hard ground. He landed only a foot away from his crossbow and when beady green eyes landed on the weapon, it spurred him into action. Rolling to the side, the redhead latched onto the weapon and fumbled to string a bolt.

Seeing what precious little time they had, Jackson shoved their only line of defense into Hiccup’s hands and drew a blade out of his boot. “Here, take this and draw his attention. I’ll free Toothless.”

“What?” the Dragon Rider barely managed to get a grip on the shield before surging forward to wrap his right arm around Jackson. Just in time to deflect the bolt Dagur had fired downward with his shield, keeping it from going through the redhead's unaware target’s heart.

“Your move, Hiccup,” the Berserker chief’s mocking had the auburn-haired Viking’s arms relaxing from around the tense Druid.

“Right, you get Toothless, I’ll distract him,” Hiccup whispered, maneuvering so Jackson was no longer in between him and his shield but behind him. The two looked at each other and with a brisk nod, both darted out in opposite directions. In the momentary confusion, Dagur didn’t know which one of them to fire at and instead ended up hitting the ground where they had been moments prior. The diversion gave Hiccup enough time to hide behind a tree while Jackson used his velocity to run up the flat rockface of a boulder. His fingers barely managed to grip the ledge’s edge before hauling himself up and out of view.

Peeking out from behind the tree, vivid green orbs caught sight of Toothless beating his tail against the ground as he squirmed in a futile attempt to free himself from the bolas. Yet with the redheaded man standing a few feet to the dragon’s side, the Dragon Rider was spotted straight away. A newly reloaded crossbow fired another bolt and Hiccup narrowly avoided a few more of Dagur's bolts by using the tree as cover. He flinched each time another thud reached his ears while the tree quivered against his back from the unrelenting assault.

“You can't hide forever!”

Taking a deep breath, the Viking from Berk came out from behind the safety of the tree. “I don't plan to.”

Even as he spoke, Hiccup caught a glimpse of the shadowy figure belonging to Jackson sneaking up behind Dagur. The brunet’s blade clenched carefully in between his teeth while he kept low to the boulder and crawled across the top. Green eyes darted back to the wild Berserker to keep from giving away Jackson’s position. After all, he needed to be a distraction.

Holding out the shield at arm’s length, the Dragon Rider pressed the hidden mechanism on the side of the metal. Immediately, the center hub sprang forward while the sides folded out and the back two panels launched outwards to form a V-shape. The new configuration of the shield may have looked awkward but it was clearly a crossbow.

Pulling one of Dagur’s bolts from the tree, Hiccup strung the arrow and hastily fired at the Berserker without aiming. The redhead, having witnessed the transformation of the shield and the stringing of the bolt, had ample time to jump out of harm’s way and into a bush for cover.

“Nice try, brother,” Dagur taunted, his head bursting out from behind the bush which unluckily enough was under the tree Jackson was currently using to climb down from the boulder. On the other hand, they were lucky enough that the man’s own voice covered the creak from the branch as the brunet leapt from the boulder and into the tree. Hiccup saw Jackson almost fall when the branch he was on fractured under his weight, but the Druid moved quickly enough to another—sturdier—branch before it could give away. However, that gave Hiccup an idea.

“Oh, and by the way, I'm not your brother!” the auburn-haired Viking smirked, pressing the hidden mechanism on his shield once more. The shield collapsed back into its original form as Hiccup redirected the angle of the shield upwards, facing the branch right above Dagur’s head. Pressing another button on the opposite side of the first, a grappling hook blasted out of the hub to wrap around the limb.

“Ha-ha-ha! You missed!” the redhead ridiculed, failing to notice the smirk on Hiccup’s face becoming just a tad bit smug.

“Did I?” the Dragon Rider asked before yanking the shield back and pulling the grappling line taut. The force was enough to finish the job Jackson had unintentionally started and the branch broke. With a satisfying crack, it dropped down on top of the Berserker and trapped him underneath the heavyweight.

Despite being pinned, Dagur wasn’t silenced. “I have GOT to get me one of those ornate shields!”

“You do that,” Jackson said from behind a freed Toothless. “We’ll be leaving now.”

Seeing Hiccup mount the Night Fury, the Berserker’s rage overwhelmed him, giving him the strength he needed to push the tree branch to the side. He was on his feet and charging the group as the brunet climbed on behind the auburn-haired Viking. Scooping up his fallen broadsword, Dagur raised the weapon high above his head. A well-aimed, low-level plasma blast from Toothless flung the sword out of the deranged Viking’s hands. Another blast sent him over the edge of the cliffs and into the water below.

“Do you think he survived?” Jackson asked after a moment of silence when the Berserker failed to resurface.

“DRAGON ATTACK! DRAGON ATTACK!

“I’d say that is a resounding yes,” Hiccup answered, not sure if he was glad he hadn’t killed the man or disappointed Dagur had survived. Either way, the chief’s survival meant the Hairy Hooligan Tribe was most likely now at war with the Berserker Tribe and he didn’t want to stick around to find out what they would do.

Shifting his foot, Toothless’s tailfin spread out and the Night Fury pushed off, taking to the skies. It took a second for him to gain his bearings before veering off to the right in the direction of Berk.

“I hate to say it, but I have to admit you were right,” the Druid spoke up from behind Hiccup when he was sure they were safe. “Dragon Island is full of wild creatures, well creature. At least the dragons are nice.”

Hiccup couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah, there are some deranged creatures out there.”

“You guys alright?” Astrid’s voice came from above causing the auburn-haired teenager’s head to jerk upwards. There, flying above them, was the rest of the dragons with their riders.

“What are you guys still doing here?” the Head of the Academy questioned, eyes darting from one Dragon Rider to the next. All of them looked to be in the same condition as they had been before the night had begun. The night had been kind to them it would seem; unlike him.

“We were waiting for you,” Snotlout scoffed, bringing Hookfang to fly next to the Night Fury on the right. “What do you think we were doing?”

“How’d it go?” the heavyset blond tentatively asked from the other side of the Monstrous Nightmare.

Sighing, Hiccup shook his head and would have slumped down into the saddle if the brunet wasn’t sitting behind him. “We might be in for a war with the Berserkers.”

“Awesome!” Tuffnut and Ruffnut’s exclamations came from below and the chief’s son had to lean over to see the Hideous Zippleback flying a little bit ahead of him a few yards down.

“That bad huh?” Astrid brought Stormfly up on Toothless’s left. Her face scrunched together in concern.

“He knows Berk trains dragons now,” Hiccup sighed, shaking his head.

“That…is not good,” Fishlegs gulped, glancing back at the disappearing island behind him.

“No, it’s not,” the shieldmaiden agreed, hands tightening on the horn of her saddle. “We better tell your father.”

“I thought you’d say that,” the teenager moaned dejectedly, head hanging low.

“Come on, we can take them!” Snotlout cajoled, thrusting his fist in the air.

“Not today. Dagur will be back, and when he is, we'll be ready,” the Head of the Academy said, looking out to the darkened sky around them. He gave the Dragon Riders another once over to reassure himself they were all in good health. However, it was then he noticed the dragons weren’t only carrying their riders. “What do the dragons have?”

“Apparently, they went hunting and they aren’t about to give up their haul,” Astrid grumbled, looking down at the gigantic bear in Stormfly’s talons.

“Hey, I told you the dragons were hunting!” Jackson spoke up for the first time since the other Dragon Riders' arrival; amber orbs eyeing the two deer in Hookfang’s jaws.

“That doesn’t explain why ours has two mouthfuls of plants,” Tuffnut griped, pointing his finger out to Barf and Belch’s heads where they were indeed filled to the brim with all kinds of greenery.

“Maybe they’ve become vegetarians?” the slender brunet offered with a sheepish grin.

“Thankfully Meatlug didn’t indulge in such silly behavior,” Fishlegs bragged, patting the Gronckle on the head.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Ruffnut cackled, directing the heavyset teenager’s attention to the Boulder-class dragon’s mouth which was bulging with rocks.

Meatlug!

“Hey, did any of you happen to find my cloak and staff by any chance?” Jackson suddenly asked, looking around at the group of dragons for any sign of the blue material.

“Oh yeah,” Tuffnut exclaimed his whole face lighting up as if he remembered something. Leaning back, he pulled out both items from his saddlebag. Hiccup nudged Toothless’s side and they dipped down to fly over to the two-headed dragon’s side.

“Thanks,” the Druid smiled reaching out to retrieve the bundled-up cloak tied to his staff. He almost fell off while leaning over but Hiccup’s hand whipped out and grabbed a hold of the back of his own vest to keep the brunet from sliding off. Jackson was hauled back into the saddle but he was still able to grab a hold of his things. Settling back into the saddle, Jackson untied the cloak from his staff and unfolded the material. He had to bite back a grin at what else was inside.

Looking over at the twins, amber eyes caught those light blue eyes belonging to Ruffnut. “Hey, why did you tie the cloak to the staff in such a way?”

“We found it like that,” the blonde waved her hand in a weird gesture. “It was balancing on a rock.”

“I thought so,” Jackson whispered to himself as he looked down at the multiple orbs of light glittering up at him in excitement and joy.

Chapter 14: Curiosity Tolls

Notes:

Wow, a whole lot of you really want to punch Dagur in the face. I guess I did a better job of writing him than I thought.

Also, I thank the many of you who reviewed. You really don't know how excited I get to read each and every review.

As for Kaeberlily, you're the first to assume correctly that I'm planning to follow the show for a bit. However, I will be diverting the plot and throwing some of my own twists into the story because of Jack's involvement in the past.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“How was the training exercise? Crossing Dragon Island in the middle of the night, was it?” was the greeting Hiccup received when he staggered through the front door.

Looking up, vivid green eyes blinked slowly as his sluggish brain worked to process the sight before him. Sitting in a large tastefully carved wooden chair was an equally large man, full of muscle and the picturesque Viking. His long, wild red hair was accompanied by a smooth mustache tied with twine and an equally wild beard, the ends of which were done in various small braids. What could be seen of the Viking’s face beneath all the red hair was pale, scarred skin that surrounded light green eyes over a large nose.

The man wore a long dark green tunic reaching down to his ankles with scalemail armor bound by a studded leather belt with an ornate metal belt buckle. Over the top of that, multiple brown furs were draped while leather arm bracers with metal studs encased the thick muscles of the redhead’s forearms. A small helmet with large horns rested regally on his head. A helmet that matched the one currently sitting up in Hiccup’s room.

“Yeah, Astrid’s idea,” the tired auburn-haired teenager answered his father between yawns.

“I figured,” Stoick chuckled, nodding his head as he fiddled with an axe that was clearly broken given the handle was in one meaty hand and the metal blade in the other. “Was it as bad as the claw-to-hand combat?”

“Worse,” Hiccup groaned flopping down into the chair across the table from the chief and began unlacing his boot. He knew he was procrastinating, yet at the same time, the Dragon Rider was also trying to figure out a way to soften the blow. “We ran into a problem. Literally, we ran into a problem.”

“What kind of problem? A dragon problem? Or a twin problem?” Stoick inattentively asked, absorbed with trying to shove the two pieces of the weapon back together with little success.

Taking a deep breath, the teenager laid his head down upon his crossed arms on the table. “A potential war kind of problem?”

“Hiccup, this is no time for jokes,” the Chief of Berk gritted out as he tried once more to force the other end of the wood rod back onto the axe.

“Dagur the Derange was on Dragon Island,” the muffled words were spoken in a flat voice. He winced when he heard the clatter of the axe head falling to the ground but that didn’t stop the rest of the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “He now knows we train dragons and he wasn’t too happy when he figured out we lied to him. Saw it as a betrayal.”

“By the gods! Hic~cup,” the Viking stressed out his son’s name causing the teen to stiffen. Finally picking his head up off the table, the teenager found his father standing, looking down at him with a hard look in his eyes. “Explain. Now.

“We tried our best to keep it a secret. Even went as far as pretending we were on Dragon Island to hunt dragons,” the Dragon Rider rushed to reassure his father. Two bushy red eyebrows scrunched together in the way that let him know the chief was listening and didn’t like what he was hearing. “I couldn’t keep the sham up when he was about to kill Toothless—" said dragon grumbled and rubbed his head against his rider’s side. Hiccup glanced down and petted the dragon between his ear-plates to reassure the Night Fury, “—I couldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“You made the right choice,” Stoick spoke softly as he sat back into the chair he’d hastily vacated while his son’s head shot up and stared at him in disbelief.

Vivid green eyes widened as they looked into soft understanding green eyes of a lighter shade. “Really?

“You were faced with the difficult decision of maintaining the treaty with the Berserkers or breaking it to save one of your own. As chief, those are the kinds of hard decisions I’ve had to face countless times. The toughest of which was choosing between saving a fellow shieldbrother and risking upheaval or maintaining the accord while sacrificing said shieldbrother,” Stoick nodded, his eyes shimmering at long-ago memories. Yet the pride he felt for his son was there as well.

“And you chose your shieldbrother,” the auburn-haired teenager hazarded a guess.

“No.”

Hiccup could not keep his jaw from dropping. His ears had to be deceiving him. There was no way he was hearing what Stoick the Vast was saying. It didn’t sound like his father at all. The pained faraway look in the chief’s eyes told his son otherwise. But he knew there had to be more to the story than that.

“I regret that decision every day, but it is in the past. Now we have to worry about our current situation. Were any of the others hurt during the altercation?”

“No, no one was hurt,” the Head of the Academy assured the chief, yet his mind was preoccupied with speculations of what the chief had done in the past and why, as his father clearly had regrets. “Well other than Jackson’s pride. I have a feeling he won’t let me forget calling him a slave. Ever.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah, he was pretty amazing. He helped me free Toothless when Dagur took him down with a bola and then distracted the man enough for us to get away. I have never seen anyone move the way he does and he acts like it is nothing,” Hiccup explained, his mind no longer on his father’s past and focused instead on his memories of the Druid.

A thoughtful expression crossed the chief’s face. “Jackson, he’s the boy that’s living with Gobber now, right? He was the one that washed ashore with Toothless during the glacier incident?”

“Uh, yeah,” green eyes narrowed trying to figure out what his father was getting at. However, Stoick was once again fiddling with the wooden rod to his axe and wouldn’t meet his eyes. When nothing came of it, Hiccup decided it was time to hit the bed and get a little sleep. He had a long night, and he wasn’t awake enough for this. Pushing his chair back, the teenager supported some of his weight on Toothless when his bad leg buckled.

“I want to meet him,” Stoick suddenly spoke up before his son could take even two steps away from the table. Hiccup’s leg buckled again when he tried to turn around too fast. “Invite him over for supper.”

“What?” the teenager spluttered not knowing where the request came from. He wasn’t sure if Jackson would come over. During the short period of time he had gotten to know the Druid, Hiccup noticed the brunet tended to shy away from hordes of people with the exception of crowds of children. “Uh, sure, I can ask him to come over.”

“Good, I expect to see him tonight,” Stoick briskly nodded his head once and grabbed his boots at the foot of the chair. He proceeded to lace up the footwear and stood up, ready to leave. “Well, I’m off; I have to go check in with Spitelout. He’s keeping an eye on some of the flocks of sheep since a number of them have been disappearing under mysterious circumstances—" which explained why he was up this late at night, “—oh and take me axe down to the forge and see if you can fix it.”

With that, the Chief of Berk was out the door.

“What just happened?” Hiccup questioned his lucidity. He had been fully prepared for his father to explode when he heard about Dagur and the broken treaty. He had not been expecting Stoick the Vast to be as understanding as he had been and to top it off, his father went ahead and threw the Dragon Rider further for a loop by expecting Jackson to come over for dinner.

Toothless let out a gurgle, one of his ear-plates standing up while the other was cocked to the side.

“Yeah, I’m not too sure either.”


Jack yawned as he made his way through Berk and to Gobber’s stall. His staff currently serving as an excellent walking stick, guiding him through the village with half-closed eyes. The late-night adventure was taking its toll on his body with his continued lack of sleep. He and the Dragon Academy members had arrived back at Berk around two in the morning and while they were tucked away in their beds still sleeping, the ex-spirit got up at dawn. Jack liked to think being up wasn’t his choice, but it was.

The brunet made a promise to Gobber to prep the forge for the day well before Astrid had devised her training drill. He shouldn’t have gone with the Dragon Riders or at the very least he should have told the blacksmith he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise. However, when Jack Frost made a promise, he would do everything in his power to keep said promise. He wasn’t about to go around breaking his promise to the blacksmith. Neither was he about to back down from going to Dragon Island, especially since Hiccup didn’t want him to go.

So, here Jack was, lethargically making his way to the smithy with the sun rising in the distance while Gobber was somewhere with Mulch and Bucket sleeping off their mead induced hangovers. When all the immortal teenager really wanted to do was snuggle under his blankets and furs in the loft he had claimed for his own in Gobber’s hut. Not that he actually slept there last night anyways.

No, Jack had slept at the blacksmith stall since that was as far as his feet had taken him when Hiccup had dropped him off at the smithy. He was only outside now because Grump needed to be fed and the Guardian didn’t think any of the drunken Vikings would be awake, let alone remember, to feed the dragon. It was the price he paid for keeping his promise while also tagging along with the Dragon Riders.

Once back in the blacksmith’s stall, Jack quickly spotted the pile of herbs and berries on the workbench. They were the ones he collected from Barf and Belch the night before and set aside before he tumbled in the pile of furs off in the corner for a quick rest only to fall asleep within seconds. Yet, even in his exhausted state, he noticed there were a few differences in the pile since he last laid eyes upon it.

First was the fact the herbs had been dried out. Second, the berries had been preserved. Foremost though, was the soft snoring coming from within the greenery which hadn’t been there before. The occasional flicker of light in one of four assorted colors was odd, but it didn’t surprise Jack.

Fondly shaking his head at the Wyldfae, the ex-spirit went about stroking the fire in the forge back to life to warm the small space. Once he was no longer shivering, he went ahead and took off his cloak. Gently gathering up the four faeries—buried underneath the leaves and using berries as pillows—into the fur-lined blue material, Jack wrapped the cloak around them like a sleeping bag and placed the makeshift bed onto one of the higher shelves.

The Guardian didn’t want them to be disturbed. Neither did he want them to get hurt by mistake with all the iron lying about. That would be a disaster. One which might very well have happened with sleep-deprived faeries and ex-spirits alike stumbling around a blacksmith’s stall.

When they were safely tucked away, Jack turned with every intention of getting the forge set for the day. His foot had other ideas as it rammed into something solid and heavy.

“Ouch,” the brunet grumbled softly more out of reflex than out of any real pain. Looking down at what was in his way, amber eyes blinked a few times to make sure he was actually seeing what was right in front of him. The image of Hiccup’s shield resting against the workspace never wavered. “What’s this doing here?”

Reaching down, he was surprised when he lifted the piece of round metal up without any resistance. The shield was significantly lighter than the Guardian had anticipated. After witnessing the large metal disk in action last night, he knew the thing had taken some serious abuse and with three hundred years of knowledge crammed into his brain, the ex-spirit had an incredibly good inkling of what the shield should have looked like after the beating it took. Yet, other than dirt and the leather strap having come undone—which was probably why Hiccup had left it here last night, to fix the strap—there was nothing wrong with the shield.

“What’s your secret?” Jack asked the black and red painted outline of Toothless.

There was no answer—not that he was expecting one—just the sun’s rays reflecting off the muted surface of the metal. The light reminded him he didn’t have the time to figure out its secrets and with a heavy heart, the Druid set the shield back down where he had found it and went about bringing log after log in from the pile outside to stack by the forge inside.

Jackson!” a high-pitched voice shouted as the brunet made his fourth trip outside. Turning towards the voice, the Guardian found a small green-eyed dark-haired child wearing a black furred tunic and ragged pants, toting a dented scuffed-up pot in his direction.

“Good morning, Terrorthi,” the brunet greeted the child he’d helped save during the glacier incident. Even now he counted his lucky stars that the girl hadn’t fallen into the glacier with him and Toothless, there was no telling what the Dream Pirates would have done to the innocent child. “What can I do for you today?”

“Ma sent you some more food. It’s my favorite, boar stew,” Terrorthi explained, uncovering the pot and revealing a thick and hearty stew that was undoubtedly tough and tasteless like all of the other meals the girl’s mother had sent him.

“Tell her thank you for me. She didn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Jack informed the child. He was a little uncomfortable at the attention Terrorthi and her family showered upon him for saving the little girl. To hide his discomfort, the ex-spirit busied himself by collecting another armful of logs and headed into the stall. The tiny child tottered behind him and set the steaming stew down on one of the few clear surfaces.

“Ma says you’re too skinny and need to eat more. Da says I have more meat on my bones than you do.” Green eyes darted around the smithy with unbridled interest, her hands twitched at her side but she was hesitant to touch anything. Amber eyes did not miss the way the child was eyeing the dragons’ teeth mixed in with various scraps of metal.

“What can I say, I’m a hiccup,” Jack responded without a thought, dumping the last of the firewood onto the floor. Crouching down, he began to stack the logs on top of the neat pile he had already made.

“You’re not a hiccup!” the child quickly defended him from himself with such resounding conviction that had the Guardian looking over at the girl in amusement. He knew he shouldn’t laugh at her puffed-out cheeks and hands placed on her hips, but Terrorthi’s angry stance was too adorable and he ended up covering up the laughter with a fake sneeze.

“Terrorthi, there is no doubt that I’m a hiccup,” Jack told the girl with a smile on his face as he reached out to ruffle course dark hair.

“No, you’re not,” Terrorthi corrected him, stomping her foot and the ex-spirit could no longer hold back his laughter.

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” the brunet compromised as he finished stacking the last of the wood.

“Fine,” the child grumbled and the Guardian could almost see a lightbulb appearing over the kid’s head. Her whole demeanor changed and she brightened up. “Oh yeah, Da heard from Muffnut the gods' favor was with you during your hunting trip last night and you’re having Gruffnut skin and butcher the kills in exchange for some of the meat.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I had Tuffnut and Ruffnut drop off what was caught at their brother’s,” Jack nodded, vaguely remembering asking for the twins’ help. He was relieved to hear they had actually dropped the carcasses off at Gruffnut’s butcher and tannery stall and hadn’t done something else with them.

“Well, Da wanted to get some of the deer meat and he’s allowing me to ne—gat…neo—go… to barter with you for some,” Terrorthi proclaimed proudly, struggling to pronounce negotiate and finally giving up in the end. “We have chickens to trade!”

“Chickens, huh?” the ex-spirit changed the tone of his voice to match the child’s chipper attitude, making sure he sounded impressed when he could have cared less. The girl appeared eager while Jack feigned thinking it over. “Okay then. Tell your Da to go pick up one of the deer from Gruffnut later this evening. I’ll have a word with him when he comes by later today and he’ll have it waiting for you.”

“But don’t you want to argue back and forth about how many chickens you want in return? That’s how it’s done! Right?” Terrorthi pouted, looking more than a little put out she wasn’t getting to negotiate with him.

“Yeah, Terrorthi, that is usually how it is done, but not today. Today all I want is an even pair of chickens and for you to take half of them to Snotlout and the other half to Astrid in return for the venison. Sounds fair? Or do you want to argue more?” Jack quirked an eyebrow and gave the child a woeful look.

“No,” the girl shook her head back and forth vigorously. “That’s fair… I think?”

The brunet closed his eyes and smiled down at Terrorthi. “Good, now how about you run along and finish the rest of your chores for today, kay?”

“Kay,” the child parroted back and Jack couldn’t keep from ruffling the adorable little girl’s hair again. “Don’t forget to eat your stew.”

With that Terrorthi skipped out of the stall, humming gleefully as she went. Only when the girl was out of sight did Jack warily eye the pot with disdain. Searching for a spoon, the ex-spirit was disappointed when he found one. Still, he stirred the thick stew and filled his spoon with a decent-sized portion before taking a bite.

Cringing at the lack of taste, Jack set the utensil down and sifted through the dried herbs on the next table. Finding the ones he wanted, the immortal teenager crushed up some marjoram and thyme and dropped them into the pot. He stirred the herbs in before taking another bite. This time he didn’t cringe immediately and instead slowly chewed the gamey piece of meat before nodding his head.

“Not that bad,” the brunet commented to himself and grinned. Adding more of the spices to make it even tastier, he began eating the stew in earnest.

“Hey, you, Jackson?” a gruff voice called out startling Jack to the point that he almost dropped his pot of stew and had to fumble to keep ahold of the warm metal. Having not lost any of the stew, the Guardian let out a heavy sigh and set the pot down before he did drop it. Facing the owner of the voice, Jack found the twins’ older brother lugging a huge chunk of meat over his shoulders and a few pelts hanging over his left arm.

“Yeah,” the ex-spirit nodded as he unconsciously picked up his staff with his left hand and began fiddling with it.

“Ruff-Tuff gave me your haul from last night,” the man slammed the large chunk of meat down on the table causing the pot of stew to rattle due to the sheer force. He then threw two pelts towards Jack who caught one with his right hand and hooked the other one with his staff. “Here’s your portion, I’m keeping the rest as payment for my work.”

“Fair,” he agreed while inspecting the pelts. After all, Gruffnut had skinned, gutted, and cut up the carcasses on top of him having to tan the hides since Jack knew the two pelts weren’t the same ones from the dragon’s hunting trip. The two currently in his possession were already tanned and ready for use, making it impossible for them to be from last night’s haul. Not that he minded; it was one less thing he had to deal with. “But I traded some venison to Terrorthi–”

“Yeah, already taken care of; the brat came by and told me what was going on,” Gruffnut cut the brunet off.

“Oh…well, isn’t this a little too much then?” Jack eyed the huge piece of meat on the table. If he had to guess, there was a whole deer's worth of meat there.

“No,” was the short and to the point reply, cutting off anything else the ex-spirit could have said.

“Um, well then, could you take some of the meat to the Ingermans and some to the twins for their dragons’ help?” the Guardian probed, wondering what he would do with the rest of the meat. He was eating two meals a day now and he wouldn’t be able to even make a dent in the meat before it went bad. A bright idea then hit him at what he could do with the rest. “Oh, and the rest can go to the chief as a tribute?”

Eyeing the Druid, Gruffnut appeared to be sizing him up, searching for something that only had Jack twitching under the intense gaze. He must have found whatever he was looking for; since the muscular man gave a nod of what the Guardian hoped was approval. Gruffnut drew his sword out from the scabbard at his side and swung it down with one strong swing, cutting through the meat with ease. The swift movement and loud sound had Jack jumping from the unexpected action.

“I’ll take the meat to the Ingermans and my siblings, but you’ll have to give your tribute to the chief yourself,” the man slung the larger chunk of meat up onto his shoulders once more and walked away without another word.

“O~kay… that was different; a little disturbing but different,” the teenager shrugged and regarded the hefty chunk of meat left. “What am I going to do with this in the meantime?”

With no answers forthcoming, Jack searched for a place to keep the meat for the time being and went back to his meal when it was safely stored away. He ate most of the stew, yet there was no way he could finish it all. Taking the pot with only dregs of broth and a few pieces of meat, the ex-spirit placed the pot next to his cloak on the shelf and probed the fabric. A low chime came from inside and four tiny Dewdrop Faeries pushed back the material while rubbing their eyes.

“I thought you guys might like some food before it got cold,” the brunet told the half-asleep faeries. Periwinkle—the fae currently the most awake of the bunch—slowly took to the air, flying in a not-so-straight line in order to pat him on the nose. Amber eyes watched the little Wyldfae’s path and smiled brightly at her little chimes of thanks. “You’re welcome. Just make sure everyone is fully awake before you guys return to Pixie Hollow, there is a bunch of iron around here and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Silvermist let out an elongated chime, which the Guardian took to mean she understood before turning his attention back to the forge. As of yet, there were no customers and it didn’t look like there would be any in the near future which left him with some free time on his hands. He used the time to organize the various workspaces as much as possible. Jack started by cleaning up Hiccup’s work area before moving on to the one he’d claimed for himself, completely bypassing Gobber’s space since it was beyond hope.

It didn’t take him too long and soon his eyes were examining the shop for something else to do which was when he noticed Hiccup’s shield for the second time. Glancing around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in the vicinity. The immortal teenager cautiously walked over to the taunting piece of metal. One more glance at his surroundings and Jack reached down and picked up the shield. Turning the metal this way and that, the ex-spirit examined the disk in hopes of finding its secrets.

“Hey, loser!” Snotlout’s loud and obnoxious voice pierced through Jack’s body. Under normal circumstances, the Guardian would have ignored the stocky Viking. However, seeing how he was presently messing with Hiccup’s shield without permission, the brunet ended up dropping the piece of metal as if it had just come out of the forge.

Gah! Why do you Vikings like sneaking up on me?! You’re Vikings for Odin’s sake, not ninjas!” Jack cursed, whirling around to glare at Snotlout and apparently Fishlegs too. His ire quickly dissipated, replaced with perplexity when he was met with two blank faces. It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t spoken in Old Norse but English. Rubbing the back of his head with the crook of his staff, the immortal teenager laughed tensely and switched to the correct language. “I mean… Hi, what can I do for ya?”

Snotlout’s blank look quickly morphed into that of his normal moody self. Eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down, eyes narrowed.

“This,” the broad-shouldered Viking snarled, holding up a chicken, “and I’ve got two more at my house! And don’t you dare try to deny it wasn’t you’re doing. Terthi–”

“Terrorthi,” Fishlegs hesitantly corrected. Yet, Snotlout kept right on going with his rant, raising his voice to speak over the blond-haired Viking.

“–told me you were the one behind this. Are you trying to get me in trouble?” the teen continued raving, waving his free hand all around but never once did he disturb the clucking chicken. At the end of his rant, he pointed an accusing finger at the ex-spirit.

“No?” the confused teenager blinked at the finger pointed directly in front of his face. He looked to Fishlegs for help but the other Viking was too busy cowering behind the raging brunet to be of any use. Rolling his eyes, the immortal teenager shrugged not really caring. “Look, if you don’t want them, I’ll take them back. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You don’t see the big deal?” Snotlout repeated his voice low and devoid of emotions before it exploded and he stormed around in circles. “It is a big deal! They’re Gothi’s chickens! You had her niece steal her chickens and put them in my yard! I don’t want to be cursed!”

First,” Jack snapped before reigning himself in, having to grind his teeth to keep his own emotions in check. “I did not have Terrorthi steal anyone’s chickens. They’re Hookfang’s payment for the deer he caught last night. If they aren’t suitable, I’ll take them back and get something else. Secondly, why would you get cursed?”

The brunet Viking was too busy opening and closing his mouth without any sound coming out for the Guardian to get an answer out of him. Instead, the equally stunned Fishlegs answered for the unusually silent teenager.

“The last person to steal one of her chickens’ eggs hasn’t spoken a word since,” the blond Viking spoke quietly, tugging at a patch of fur on his tunic as he gnawed on his bottom lip.

“Silent Sven,” the brawny Viking whispered, prompting the two Vikings to shudder for unknown reasons.

“Did you really get Gothi to trade her chickens for venison?” Fishlegs inquired, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his hands still occupied with the same patch of fur.

“Terrorthi said her parents wanted some venison and they were willing to trade some chickens for it. I just told her to get the meat from Gruffnut and to split the trade between Astrid and Snotlout since it was their dragons who actually did all the work. I don’t see the big deal, but if you really don’t want the chickens, I can get you something else,” Jack turned his attention to the stockier Viking, wondering if he had somehow made a faux pas.

NO! They’re my chickens. Hookfang did the work. They’re mine!” Snotlout snarled pulling the chicken to his chest and cradling it like it was the most exquisite thing in Berk. “My precious.

“It is a big deal!” Fishlegs exclaimed at the same time, blabbering away. “Gothi’s chickens are infamous. They produce more eggs and hatch more chickens than any other chickens in all of the archipelago. To have Terrorthi trade some venison for three of her chickens, it’s just not done.”

“Well, now it is.`Cause that’s what happened,” the ex-spirit waved the alarm off. If he hadn’t made a faux pas, he was fine. “So why are you here Fishlegs? I know you didn’t come with Snotlout.”

The blond Viking looked like he wanted to continue on with their previous subject matter but ended up slouching in on himself and went with the change in conversation. “Gruffnut gave Mom the large chunk of venison from you and she wanted me to come over and see what you wanted in trade.”

“No trade needed. Just tell her it was Meatlug’s payment for her help,” Fishlegs opened his mouth but Jack didn’t give him time to say anything. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the heavyset Viking mumbled finally letting go of the abused fur.

“Yes, I am sure,” the Guardian was so close to sighing in exasperation; thankfully, he kept his emotions in check and out of his voice, “was there anything else I could help you with?”

“I… uh… was wondering what you were doing with Hiccup’s shield?” Fishlegs pointed to the shield the brunet tried to unsuccessfully conceal.

“You saw that, huh?” Jack scratched the side of his nose. When he was met with an unimpressed look, he let out a sigh, reached down and picked up the discarded shield. Upon looking up, he saw out of his peripheral view Snotlout had set the chicken on the surface of the table and was cooing at it lovingly. “Truth is: I was trying to figure out why it was so strong. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Oh, I can answer that!” the large Viking bounced excitedly on his feet. “The shield is made out of Gronckle Iron, which is a lot lighter than regular iron but a whole lot stronger and more durable as well.”

“Gronckle Iron? I’ve never heard of it,” the immortal teenager set the shield on the table to study it a bit more. He wasn’t the only one, seeing as the chicken walked over to the piece of metal and stared down at her likeness in the reflective surface.

“Yeah, that’s because I kinda, sorta, invented it?” Fishlegs's answer was more of a question than a statement. He hurried forward with a rushed explanation when the tall brunet cocked his head to the side. “Really, Meatlug should be credited with inventing it, because she’s the one that made the metal.”

Jack was glad he had set the shield down or else he would have dropped it again. The ex-spirit slowly turned to face the heavyset Viking, ignoring his own pounding heart and complete awe. He tried to say something; however, every time he opened his mouth, he couldn’t find the words. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the brunet calmed himself down before attempting to speak again.

“Do you mean to tell me that this shield was begotten in the breath of a dragon?” the immortal teenager all but breathed out the words.

“In a way, I guess,” Fishlegs shrugged one shoulder, not sure of the Druid’s sudden change in demeanor, “Meatlug ate some rocks which created the metal Hiccup made the shield with.”

This time, Jack knew fully well he was speaking in his Native tongue. “By all things magic! How the–? I don’t–? Who–? Gah! What is wrong with this place?! Magic is literally flowing all around them and they are deliberately blind to it ALL! Why me? Why?!

Huffing at the sheer emotional outburst, the Guardian looked down from the ceiling and into the stunned, and a little bit fearful, faces of the two Vikings. None of them were making any sound, too busy gawking instead. Even the damn chicken was staring at him.

“Do either of you two know the importance of a weapon created by or even burnished in the breath of a dragon?” the ex-spirit gritted out through clenched teeth in Old Norse.

“Uh, no?”

“Is this something to do with your Druid thing?” Snotlout cautiously asked, making sure there was a little distance between the chicken and the other brunet. If Jack wasn’t so worked up, he would have laughed at the Viking’s protectiveness over a chicken of all things.

Yes,” the Guardian all but hissed. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and explained as calmly as he could what had him so worked up. “In my land, there have been two swords burnished in the breath of a dragon, both did incredible feats. Some terrible, but no less incredible feats; one was able to kill a king born from magic, The Once and Future King.”

“So? There’s nothing special about a sword being able to kill a person, king or not,” the broad-shouldered brunet snorted and rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Glaring at the Viking—who shut up when hard amber eyes locked on to his own—Jack continued. “The other sword, Excalibur, was the sword of the Once and Future King and it could slay anything and I do mean anything. Living or undead, mortal or immortal.”

This time, Snotlout gulped. “It could kill a god?”

“Unless by some other means of magical intervention, then yes, Excalibur could very well kill a lesser god,” and a spirit went unsaid by Jack. The Guardian had always been grateful Merlin had destroyed the blade made by Morgana, the blade which slew King Arthur, and so had many of the other immortals. Not only could the sword eradicate their existence but it had become tainted by killing the Once and Future King.

Fishlegs whimpered and held up his hand as if he was in class wanting to be called on. “Say if one ah… kinda, sorta um… had a sword made from Gronckle Iron and I don’t know, nicked themselves with it? Would that kill the person?”

“I don’t know; probably not. If there hasn’t been any effects since you cut yourself, then I don’t think anything will happen,” the ex-spirit tilted his head to the side as he thought about the ramifications and then ran his hand through his messier than normal hair, making it even worse. “But I really don’t know.”

“Wouldn’t weapons forged by different species of dragons have magical abilities just as different as the dragon species?” a set of amber eyes and a set of light green eyes met Snotlout’s at his offhanded comment. “What? I pay attention. I’m not like the twin dweebs.”

“You know, he may be on to something there,” Jack rubbed the bottom of his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face while Fishlegs was too busy goggling at the other Viking, not believing it was him who had come up with such a theory. “All Creatures of Magic have their own unique attributes and abilities; it wouldn’t be a stretch if the different species of dragons imbedded different magical attributes into the metal. It would be something to try.”

“One problem there, the idiot doesn’t know how to make Gronckle Iron,” Snotlout jerked his thumb at the heavyset teenager and glared as he muttered under his breath something about a sword he never got.

Head hanging low, Fishlegs, dejectedly nodded his head in confirmation. “Snotlout’s right, I don’t know what Meatlug ate to make the Gronckle Iron. It was all an accident.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Guardian shook his head causing both Vikings to look at him, “as long as a dragon willingly burnishes the weapons with their fire, their magic will be embedded into the metal. I must point out the materials used and the quality of the craftsmanship does make a difference, and if a Gronckle did burnish any piece of metal it wouldn’t become Gronckle Iron, but the magic would still be there. It’s just a question of how the different species of dragons’ magic will manifest.”

“Gronckles are Boulder-class dragons, I wonder if their durability was what manifested in Gronckle Iron,” the heavyset blond speculated, pulling out his little journal and charcoal pencil from his tunic and began jotting down notes.

“That could be it,” Jack nodded, running his hand over the smooth metal of the disk and feeling no indentations. “Hiccup’s shield stood up to a great deal of abuse last night and hardly has a scratch on it. You might be on to something there, Fishlegs, can you tell me anything else about the different species of dragon?”

Oh no,” the burly brunet Viking groaned, dropping his face into his hand.

“Could I ever!” Fishlegs all but squealed, literally jumping up and down in place. “I’ve read the Book of Dragons, like ten times now and I’m helping Hiccup update it too! There are so many different dragon classes! Tidal, Strike, Sharp, Stoker, Fear–”

“Fishlegs, one at a time, one at a time,” Jack laughed, loving the blond Viking’s enthusiasm.

Notes:

Yeah, sorry, not much happened in this chapter. It's more of a bridge between the last chapter and the next one to come. Still, there was some foreshadowing going on.

Chapter 15: Visions of What Lies Below

Notes:

To KamiQueen: I don't have a tumblr but I'm all for you posting a link to my story. Actually, I really appreciate it—Thank You!—because it shows me how much you like it and it makes me feel great. Again, thank you!

To TheSenpaiWhoNoticedYou: Thanks for the idea for the tag. If anyone else has any suggestions for tags to make this story easier to find, please let me know. As for calling Jack an "ex-spirit," it's kind of like the Jackson vs. Jack thing. Only, in this case, it is how Jack views himself, not as a mortal but no longer a spirit either. Thus, an ex-spirit.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hiccup dragged his feet further and further away from his house, forcing his legs to move forward despite wanting to run in the opposite direction.

“Okay, I can do this. I can do this,” the young teenager assured himself as he approached his imminent doom. The pep talk didn’t do much good judging by the way he stopped in the middle of the road and threw his hands into the air. “Who am I kidding? I can’t do this!”

Toothless wasn’t of the same opinion and gently rammed his head into his rider’s back. The dragon let out an irritated rumble as he pushed Hiccup forward.

“No Bud, I seriously can’t do this,” the chief’s son made to escape from the persistent dragon and retreat. Toothless—having expected his rider’s actions—shadowed Hiccup’s movements and effectively blocked the teenager before shoving him forward yet again.

With the stubborn dragon foiling his escape, Hiccup tried to reason with the Night Fury. “Besides, I don’t know where he is. How about we just go to the forge and fix Dad’s axe, yeah? We’ll look for Jackson later. That sounds like a good plan, right? And you never know, he could turn up at the armory while we’re there and then we won’t have to go look for him.”

Toothless let out a snort and shoved the blabbering Viking forward. Hiccup fought to stay where he was, his metal foot digging into the dirt, but the dragon significantly exceeded him in weight and strength and wasn't opposed to using it against his rider.  Hiccup ended up skidding forward despite his best efforts. A louder growl came from behind him and he was propelled forward by a much stronger shove.

Rounding on Toothless, the Dragon Rider put on his best stern expression and locked eyes with acid green orbs. “Come on Bud, I am not asking Jackson over for dinner. You can forget it.”

The Night Fury was not to be dissuaded and took another step forward, forcing the young Viking to walk awkwardly backwards. Another step forward for the dragon, another step backwards for Hiccup and one step closer to his impending fate; a process which was repeated over and over until the teenager ended up taking a wrong step and wound up falling on his ass. He sat there for a while, trying to figure out how this was his life.

“Toothless, what am I going to do? I can’t ask Jackson to dinner. I just can’t.” Hiccup propped an elbow up on his knee and rested his head on an upturned hand. The dragon let out a small whine and bumped his nose against the teenager’s lowered head. Toothless then licked his rider on the cheek who began laughing at the sensation. “I don’t know what to do.”

The sound of an explosion—one that could have only come from a dragon—had auburn hair flying about as Hiccup stared off in the direction the sound originated from.

The booming voice of his father rose above the echoes of the blast. “Cut him off! Make sure he doesn't escape!”

“What was that?” the Dragon Rider tensed, using Toothless as a crutch to help himself up.

He hadn’t expected Dagur to attack so soon after the exploits in the night. In fact, he was sure it couldn’t have been the deranged Chief of the Berserker Tribe attacking; he wouldn’t have enough time to mount a strike so soon. That left the Outcast Tribe as the only other tribe which currently were at odds with the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.

It could very well be a wild dragon attack, but Hiccup had a feeling that it was an attack on Berk.

“Let’s go check it out.” Hiccup wasted no time and swung up into the Night Fury’s saddle and Toothless only waited long enough for his rider to open the mechanical tailfin before they were flying. From the air, the Dragon Rider had no problem spotting the disturbance as a shadowy figure dashed through Berk. Following the blur of browns—and what could have been blond hair—Hiccup witnessed the person shoving townsfolk out of the way while knocking objects to the ground and scattering them about to impede his pursuers.

Vivid green eyes caught sight of one of the twins running through the marketplace and a tap to Toothless’s side had the dragon flying low to the ground, close enough to hear Tuffnut's breathless comment.

“I didn't think he could move that fast,” the blond puffed, before yelling through cupped hands. “Hey, Astrid?! He's headed your way!”

“On it!” Hiccup vaguely heard the distant reply from the shieldmaiden as Stormfly soared after the blur heading in her direction. The Deadly Nadder rider must have said something to the dragon as tail spikes flared and shot out, creating a barrier before the blur. The spine blockade was enough to halt the person and gave Hiccup his first good look at the blur Astrid, Tuffnut, and his father were all chasing.

Gobber turned on those chasing him, pointing his hook prosthetic at the chief stalking towards him. “I won't do it, Stoick, and you can't make me!”

“Uh, guys, what’s going on?” Hiccup asked, landing Toothless near the group of Vikings working to corner the blacksmith.

“It’s Gobber’s monthly bath,” Tuffnut’s blue eyes avidly watched the mob closing in on the foul-smelling man. His hands rubbing together in anticipation of the violence which was no doubt about to take place.

Hiccup, for his part, couldn’t believe he had forgotten about Gobber’s monthly bath. He usually helped his father and the rest of the village corral the blond Viking seeing as no one could stand to be around the man due to the dreadful odor after a few weeks. It had gotten easier when they had the dragons to help track the blacksmith down, going from bi-yearly baths to monthly baths, but it usually still took the entire Academy to corral the crafty Viking.

“None of you can make me!” Gobber screamed, searching for a way out.

“Keep him surrounded!” Stoick ordered.

The loud bark startled a nearby purple Terrible Terror from its sleeping spot in an upturned pot. The frightened dragon reacted on instinct and scrambled out of the way.

“A Viking is supposed to smell this way!” the blacksmith venomously argued, defending himself by waving his left hook around wildly. “It's a badge of honor!”

At that moment, the purple Terrible Terror—having crawled up the blacksmith’s leg for protection during the altercation—took one sniff of Gobber’s face and let out a distressed cry. The tiny little dragon tried to escape, struggling to fly away. Yet, from Hiccup’s vantage point, he could see how unstable the Terrible Terror was, wobbling about in the air before colliding with a stone pillar.

“Hurry!” Ruffnut’s yell had Hiccup’s ears ringing and effectively drawing his eyes to the well where he found the other Thorston twin busy at work pulling a bucket of water up with the help of Barf and Belch. “We've gotta get that tub filled, or else I’ll have to put up with the smell even longer!”

“It's for your own good, Gobber,” Stoick worked to appease his friend, drawing the auburn-haired teenager’s attention back to the arguing Vikings.

“Actually, it's for the good of the town,” the Head of the Academy dismounted and moved to stand by his father’s side. The proud look the chief shot Hiccup was enough to make the teenager grin.

Jerking his hand towards the water trough, the chief gave a command to the blacksmith. “Get in the tub.”

When Gobber made no move to comply, Hiccup caught the eye of Astrid and motioned to his mentor. A discreet hand gesture to Toothless had the dragon inconspicuously making his way behind Gobber. The shieldmaiden’s eyes brightened, catching on to what the auburn-haired teenager was silently planning, and gave a small tilt of her head to show she was onboard.

“I won't do it, Stoick.” Gobber waved his hook around threateningly at anyone who tried to move closer, missing the exchange between the Dragon Academy members.

“Now, Astrid!” Hiccup shouted purposely directing Gobber’s attention towards the Deadly Nadder rider. Taking her cue, Astrid nudged Stormfly to take flight straight up. At the same time, Toothless swatted his tail at the man, flinging him through the air. Although Gobber would later deny it, he let out a girlish scream as he sailed through the air and straight into the wooden trough.

“Ruffnut! Soap and water,” Stoick bellowed, rushing over to the tub and pushing the slightly dazed blacksmith back down. The blonde Viking waddled over to the tub carrying a large bucket positioned awkwardly in between her legs and threw the contents of the container at Gobber. Eyes slammed shut in anticipation, yet they blinked open not a second later when less than a tankard of water splashed against his head.

Gobber let out a huge sigh of relief and sagged down into the trough.

“You're gonna have to do better than that,” the chief gave Ruffnut a disapproving look.

“I can't,” the blonde Viking frowned, looking into the empty bucket as if water would just appear before turning it upside-down over her head to get a better view. “There’s nothing else down there. The bucket I mean, not the well. Not that there’s anything else in the well either, because that’s empty too.”

“What?” one of the passersby, who had stopped to watch the antics that came with Gobber’s monthly baths, blinked owlishly at the revelation.

“That can’t be,” another stated with wavering confidence. The rest of the gathered Vikings took that as an initiative to amass a wave of whispers and conjectures passing through the crowds tainted with a little bit of fear.

“Alright people, that’s enough. Gobber’s bath will have to be postponed until later,” Stoick hushed the crowd and gestured the villagers back, “go back to your everyday jobs. I’ll take care of this. There is no need to panic.”

A little slower than normal, the Vikings began to disperse and made their way back to their shops or farms. A few of them lingered with glances towards the source of all their water, yet with one well-placed glare from the chief, they too were sent scurrying away. Two children were the last to leave, Snuffnut waving to the twins while Terrorthi sent Hiccup a tentative smile which he returned.

The blacksmith—having climbed out of the makeshift tub—attempted to make a not so stealthy retreat since no one was paying him any heed. He would have been correct too since the others had made their way over to the well. However, the dragons had not and both Toothless and Stormfly cut off Gobber’s escape, herding him towards the group with a low-level plasma blast and a few spine shots a few inches from the man’s feet.

“What was that for?” Astrid asked, coming to stand next to Hiccup. “What about Gobber’s bath?”

“We don’t want to cause any terror and fear in the villagers,” the chief informed the Academy members.

“Awe man,” Tuffnut grumbled, struggling to pull himself up onto Belch’s head. In retrospect, he probably should have had the dragon lower his neck. As it was, the blond Viking ended up on his ass when his sister yanked at his vest.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Ruffnut moaned, dropping the bucket onto Tuffnut’s head.

“We don’t want a riot on our hands,” the chief glared down at the twins. The Thorstons didn’t see it his way.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” the Viking with dreadlocks nodded his head as he struggled to pull the bucket off with little success. Stoick only gave the boy a quick glance as he yanked the bucket off the blond with one tug and began tying the well’s rope around the handle before lowering it down.

“No, we don’t,” Astrid rebuffed, taking a threatening step towards the imbeciles. She knew the chief had very little patience for the twins on a good day and everyone had to work to keep them out of his way on a bad day. Today, it would seem she was going to be the one to save the twins from the chief’s wrath.

Ruffnut scratched her head, just below her helmet. “I am pretty certain we do.”

“No, no you don’t or… or… or else,” Hiccup strove to dissuade the twins but fell short when he couldn’t come up with something that would scare them. Everything that came to mind was something a normal person would hate to do but Ruffnut and Tuffnut would undoubtedly enjoy.

“Or else what?” the twins asked together, sending shivers down the auburn-haired teenager’s spine at the sheer eagerness coating their tones. Hiccup expected that if Jackson were there, he probably would have persuaded them otherwise. For some reason, the Druid was more in tune with the twins and knew how to handle them. The thought of Jackson sparked an idea and a devious grin spread across the Head of the Dragon Academy’s face.

“Or else the villagers will riot and Jackson won’t have time to tell his stories because of the riot. Meaning you won’t be able to listen to them,” Hiccup’s grin grew more confident at the growing looks of horror on the twins’ faces.

“No stories?” Tuffnut’s mouth hung open, blue eyes impossibly wide. “But… but… but that will upset Snuffnut!”

“And when Snuffnut’s upset, Puffnut’s upset—" Ruffnut picked up where her brother left off, gnawing at her upper lip.

“—and when Puffnut is upset, Ma is upset—"

“—and when Ma is upset…” the words trailed off as the twins shared a look and shuddered. As one, the two surrounded Stoick and dropped to their knees at the large man’s feet, clenching his furs into their shaking hands.

“Chief! Say there’s water! We need stories!” Tuffnut exclaimed, burying his face into the brown furs, muffled sobs soon following.

“Yeah! We don’t want to see Ma upset!” his sister continued, rubbing her cheek against the soft fuzz. Stoick grimly glanced down at the two before turning his attention back to the bucket he'd finished pulling out of the well, which he promptly turned over.

Nothing came out.

“We just dug that well two summers ago,” Stoick took a few steps back—dislodging the Thorstons’ grasps on his clothes—and rubbed a hand through his beard. His son took his place and leaned over the side of the well to get a better look.

“Water doesn't just disappear,” Hiccup murmured his bewilderment into the well. Taking a step back up, he gestured to the well as he faced his father. “There has to be a reason.”

The chief sighed and looked to the heavens for answers. None came and his attention was brought back to the group of young teens standing before him, waiting for the same answers from him.

“We'll have to dig a new well. And until it's done, we'll have to ration water. Which means—"

“—No more baths! Always a silver lining,” Gobber cried, finally managing to slip away from the two dragons keeping him cornered. The delight in his voice was evident as was the smell in Hiccup’s nose as his mentor pulled him into a one-armed hug. Thankfully, the blacksmith let him go in favor of invading the chief’s personal space instead of his own, allowing the younger Viking to cough out the horrid stench and gasp for fresh clean air.

“Guys, I think this is something the Dragon Academy can help with,” Astrid brought up as the Head of said Academy stumbled over to her, wheezing and gagging at the smell lingering in his nose. “I think we better get the others.”

“Agreed,” Hiccup huffed out, using Toothless as a crutch. Only when he could breathe without being reminded of the awful stench did he look around. “By the way, where are the others?”

“I actually don’t know,” the shieldmaiden frowned, creases blooming a crossed her forehead. “We were all supposed to help with Gobber’s bath today, but some people didn’t show up.”

An irritated glare was thrown his way and the chief’s son had the decency to look abashed.

“Well, Jackson’s at Gobber’s shop,” Tuffnut volunteered as he brushed the dirt from the knees of his pants.

Hiccup briefly wondered when the Druid had become included in the Dragon Academy’s affairs but shook it off. That was a thought for another time, a time when they weren’t facing a potential crisis.

“What’s he doing at Gobber’s shop at this hour?” Astrid glanced over at the sun to judge the time. It was only a few candle marks after sunrise and everyone knew the blacksmith was usually busy in the mornings. No one went to the shop at this time of day because they knew not to bother Gobber when he was engrossed in his morning routine.

“He slept there, duh,” Ruffnut rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You were supposed to make sure he got to Gobber’s last night,” Hiccup lightly berated the two, wondering why he and Toothless hadn’t just dropped the Druid off at his mentor’s house last night himself.

The Night Fury rider then remembered Jackson offered to deal with the dragons’ bounty from their impromptu hunting trip and, since the twins agreed on Gruffnut's behalf to skin and process the meat, they had stayed behind as well. He had been so tired at the time he had asked the Thorstons to make sure the brunet got back to Gobber’s after they were done dealing with the haul. He should have known better.

“We did!” Ruffnut said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We took him to Gobber’s shop which was exactly where you left him, so it wasn’t that hard,” Tuffnut added, covering his mouth as he let out a large yawn.

Hiccup couldn’t hold back any longer, he gave in to the urge and slammed his head into his awaiting hand.

“He meant, you were supposed to take him to Gobber’s hut,” Astrid corrected the twins, equally exasperated at them and their inability to think for themselves.

“You should have been clearer then,” the blonde-haired Viking snubbed the shieldmaiden, turning her nose up.

“You know what, let’s just forget it and head on over there,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy rubbed the bridge of his nose. Silently, he asked the gods what he had done to deserve this. Thankfully, the others agreed and mounted their dragons for the short ride over to the smithy. Toothless easily took the lead, guiding them straight to the blacksmith stall.

They arrived in minutes, landing next to Grump who was pacing back and forth outside of the shop so slowly he appeared to be sleepwalking. There were a few children running around and playing with the easy-going dragon, the only indication he gave that he was aware of the young Vikings was the twitching of his tiny ear-wings. Despite the noisy children, the four Dragon Riders could hear the arguing voices of their two missing Academy members wafting out from inside the stall.

“No, no, no,” Snotlout’s loud overbearing voice boomed out of the smithy. “Obviously, a Monstrous Nightmare’s flame would produce a blade that would flame up.”

“And I would have to disagree with you there,” Fishlegs usually quiet and non-confrontational voice followed after. It was anything but quiet and non-confrontational. At the moment, the usually shy Viking’s tone was stern and held a hint of confidence he rarely let show through. “It is obvious that a Monstrous Nightmare’s flame would burn anything it slices.”

“How about we just write both of them down as potential hypotheses and move on to the next dragon, a Fireworm was it?” Jackson’s voice was quick to tack on. The accompanying laugh, though, held a bit of a nervous undertone. Clearly, he was defusing the imminent fight. Astrid and Hiccup shared a confused look before the group headed into the shop to see the three huddled around Fishlegs’ opened notebook while one of Gothi’s chickens clucked around on the floor at their feet.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?” the shieldmaiden wasn’t sure what to make of Fishlegs and Snotlout voluntarily sitting at a table together and—for the most part—getting along with one another.

Both Vikings had to turn their heads to see the new arrivals while Jackson merely looked up.

Surprisingly, it was Snotlout who answered for them. “We are theorizing the magical effects endowed into blades when burnished in the breath of the different species of dragon.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?” Astrid asked even more confused.

“I was teaching them more about the Druids’ magical knowledge which has since digressed,” Jackson cheerfully replied as if his answer explained everything and it probably did. It didn’t, however, make any sense at all to Hiccup and Astrid. Tuffnut and Ruffnut on the other hand, just nodded their heads like they understood every word. “So, what brings you guys here?”

“The well’s dried up,” the chief’s son cut straight to the point, “and we need to figure out a way to keep Berk supplied with water until a new well can be dug.”

The proclamation caught the attention of all three at the table and Hiccup could tell Jackson and Fishlegs understood the implication of the dried up well more than Snotlout. The burly Viking probably wouldn’t have understood the implications unless it interfered with his means and even then, he would only worry about himself and not the others.

“What are we going to do?” the Druid moved around the table, picking up his cloak and staff as he went.

Hiccup was startled by the brunet’s attitude, most of the other villagers would—and might very well have had if not for his father—riot at such news. He was even further shocked Jackson was looking at him for instructions. If the Head of the Dragon Academy was honest with himself, it made him feel like he could do this. Nodding his head in the Druid’s direction with a slight smile, Hiccup began to piece together a plan. He started to pace back and forth in the small space allotted to him with everyone else in the armory.

Turning sharply on his foot, the auburn-haired teenager pointed to the twins. “Ruff, Tuff, strap on the washtub and head to Lars Lake to fill it.”

“Okay, but that thing's pretty big. I mean, it's bigger than Ruff's butt,” the tacked-on comment made Tuffnut’s sister turn her head in an attempt to get a good look at her rear to determine if her brother was telling the truth or not. “It could take a while. A week or two.”

Concluding her twin was lying, Ruffnut delivered a perfectly executed right hook to the blond Viking’s face. Tuffnut was laid out flat, a low grunt indicating he hadn’t succumbed to unconsciousness.

“Well, I was assuming you would use your dragon,” Hiccup drily added, not bothering to give the twins’ antics any mind. The others didn’t react either. Jackson, on the other hand, did peer down to make sure Tuffnut was alright, which judging by the way he shrugged and looked up at the other twin, the Viking would be fine.

“Why would you think that?” Tuffnut pushed himself up as if nothing happened even as the left side of his face started to swell.

“Because,” Hiccup started before realizing who he was talking to and dropped his head into his awaiting hand for the second time that day. “Okay, moving on. Astrid, Snotlout, head to the mountain streams, and fill as many canteens as you can.”

“Mountain streams,” a thoughtful expression crossed the brunet Viking’s face while his eyes were glued to Astrid. Pushing himself away from the table, he got up and moved closer to the shieldmaiden, all but snuggling up to her. “Romantic.”

Astrid, having none of that, grabbed the arm an inch away from draping itself over her shoulder and twisted, forcing the broad-shouldered Viking in front of her. The new position allowed her to kick Snotlout in the ass while simultaneously releasing his arm, resulting in the teenager stumbling forward into a pile of scrap metal. A cry of pain and curses followed a moment later.

Since Hiccup had ignored the twins’ antics, he was obligated to ignore Astrid’s violent tendencies and Snotlout’s roughed-up shape as well. “Fishlegs, Jackson, you're going to help me figure out what happened inside that well.”

“Um, you may not know this, but I don't do well in tight spaces,” the usually shy and timid Fishlegs was back, eyes holding a nervous gleam while his whole body shivered at the very thought.

“Don’t worry about it, Fishlegs, everything’s going to work out. You’ll see,” Jackson reassured the Viking, shooting the heavyset teenager a smile. He didn’t seem all that reassured, but Fishlegs wasn’t shaking any longer which was an improvement.

“Alright, you heard the man, let’s move out!” the shieldmaiden clapped her hands together. The twins took one last look at Snotlout still stuck in the pile of metal, ass end up, and got in one last laugh before scampering out to fulfill their orders. Astrid gave a soft smile to Hiccup and headed out herself, grabbing one of Snotlout’s legs as she passed by and dragged the dazed Viking behind her.

“So, how are we going to check out what happened to the well?” the Druid asked, tilting his head to the side as amber eyes gazed at the Head of the Academy inquisitively.

Taking a deep gulp of air—and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he suddenly felt so out of breath—Hiccup looked around the stall. “We’re going to need rope, lots of rope.”


“That's it, girl. Just keep it steady,” Fishlegs encouraged Meatlug as she lowered the rope holding Hiccup down the well.

Toothless, on the other hand, continued to run back and forth agitatedly, just like he'd been doing ever since his rider began the descent down. The only one able to curb his behavior was Jackson. Somehow the brunet managed to get the dragon to sit next to him for a few stretches at a time as he provided a lookout for the dragon’s rider. Although, the Night Fury was anything but still. He kept grumbling and whining, pawing at the ground the lower the auburn-haired teenager went.

“Lower. Keep going. Just a little more,” a faint voice echoed up from the well and Jackson relayed the message to the duo in the air with a hand gesture. “Okay. Hold it right there.”

Another gesture from the Druid had the rope halting; when Hiccup was sure the line wasn’t going to move, he untangled his hand from the rope and held out the lantern. He was forced to hastily latch back onto the line when he slid down a few lengths and hooked his arm around the rope to secure himself. When he was sure he wasn’t going to fall for a second time, he reached out his left hand closer to the stone wall of the well. Touching the darker stones, he rubbed his fingers together feeling the trace of water. The stones were still wet but not soaked.

“The water level was way up here and it's still wet,” Hiccup muttered to himself gazing down at the blackness below. Clearly, there had been water in the well up until a few hours ago, if he had to make an educated guess. Where the water was now, he didn’t know.

Prying one of the smaller stones from the well’s wall, the Dragon Rider dropped it and listened for the resulting clatter. It took some time, yet he eventually heard the distinctive sound of the rock reaching the bottom. However, it wasn’t the characteristic splash of a rock breaking the water's surface like he was hoping for, but the clattering of rock against rock.

Looking back up, Hiccup could only faintly see the outlines of Jackson and Toothless against the bright sky above. “Jackson, have Fishlegs get me all the way down.”

“Are you sure? That’s a long way down,” the brunet’s call echoed his worry.

Smiling at the concern for his well-being, the chief’s son nodded his head well aware the other teen couldn’t see him. “I’ll be fine, just have Fishlegs get me down.”

“You got it,” Jackson’s head tilted up towards the dot in the cloudy sky which the Dragon Rider knew had to be Meatlug and Fishlegs. “Fishlegs! Take him all the way down.”

“Is he sure? It looks awfully dark and scary down there,” Hiccup vaguely made out the blond Viking’s shout without Jackson having to relay the message.

“He’s sure.”

“Okay! Take him down, girl,” with that the line gave a jerk and the Night Fury rider was being lowered once more. The lower he got, the more he could hear the distressed whines from Toothless.

“He’ll be okay Toothless,” Hiccup heard the silvery voice resonating around him as the brunet reassured the black dragon and he glanced up to see the Druid petting the Night Fury's head.

It was at that moment the rope snagged on a jagged rock jutting out of the well’s wall. His self-preservation kicked in and the Viking grabbed ahold of the rope with both hands, almost losing the lantern in the process. Thankfully, he hadn’t fallen.

Jackson’s voice echoed down, loudly scolding the Gronckle rider above. “Fishlegs, what are you doing? Keep Meatlug under control.”

From his current position, Hiccup couldn’t hear anything from the heavyset Viking. He didn’t need to. Not when the rope gave another ominous creep. He knew then that Meatlug wasn’t listening. Jackson’s accompanying shout was drowned out by his own gasp of fright but the worry that laced the silvery voice wasn’t forgone. A moment later, he felt the rope go lax and he plummeted down a good ten feet before he was suddenly jerked to a stop.

Vivid green eyes shot up and strained to make out Jackson’s outline. The Druid was braced rather precarious at the mouth of the well and, from the looks of it, struggling to maintain his hold on the other end of the rope. It took a moment for Hiccup to register Toothless behind the brunet, teeth latched onto Jackson's cloak, preventing him from falling. A cloak that wasn’t made for holding one person’s weight, let alone two, and it wasn’t all that surprising when the ties fastening the article of clothing to Jackson’s person broke and Hiccup was falling again.

This time he wasn’t falling alone.

Jackson appeared to know more about free falling than the Viking, seeing how the Druid easily caught up to Hiccup and grabbed his arm. The brunet proceeded to slow their descent by twisting the staff—and how he managed to keep ahold of it in all the confusion was beyond Hiccup—horizontally. The ends of the staff grated against the well walls and Hiccup was astonished the piece of wood didn't snap under the stress. He wasn’t about to complain though.

A harsh gust of wind blew from beneath, further slowing their descent until they stopped. Just in time too, since Hiccup was no longer surrounded by the confined stones of the well but dangling freely in a large, opened cavern. Above him, Jackson held on to the gnarled piece of wood for dear life. By some divine intervention, the ends of the staff wedged themselves into the dirt and rock mere inches away from where the well’s wall gave way. With a groan, the brunet released Hiccup’s arm and yanked his other hand in such a way that his staff pulled free, dropping both of them to the ground a few feet below.

The Dragon Rider landed none too kindly on his back with a loud thud, followed by another softer thud a second later.

Notes:

So yeah, I know this is early, but on Friday I'm laying my Grandpa to rest and I've been working on the story to keep from thinking about it. It hasn't been helping as much as I'd hope.

Next week, I'll update at my regular schedule, i.e. on Friday. If not, it's probably because I finally had the emotional breakdown that I've been starving off and didn't get around to writing. In that case, I'm sorry in advance.

Chapter 16: Through the Tunnel

Notes:

Midnight_Love_Songs: Thank you for your condolences, they made me feel a bit better. As for you using Druid Jack, I would absolutely love to see anything you write with him as a druid. So, if you ever do post anything, give me a heads-up.

JunFiacre: I want to thank you too for your condolences and I'm just glad you review because a lot of people don't. It's always nice to know what things stand out to a reader and what was done well.

Thanks to the rest of you reading and reviewing, it’s a great inspiration to keep moving forward.

Chapter Text

“Ow,” Hiccup groaned. His shoulder throbbing in time to his rapid heartbeat and was only a little more painful than the ache coming from his back. Sadly, he could honestly say, he had worse, and it wouldn’t bother him.

Off to the side, the Dragon Rider could hear Jackson muttering in that strange language he sometimes fell back on when he was tired and wasn’t really thinking. Hiccup didn’t need to understand the language to know the Druid was cursing. The auburn-haired teenager hastily pushed himself into a sitting position and scanned the cavern for potential threats in the minimal light provided by the opening of the well. He couldn’t see much yet he easily found Jackson’s huddled form to his right along with the shattered remains of the lantern.

“You alright?” Hiccup braced his hands and pushed up, careful to situate his prosthetic to prevent the metal from slipping out from underneath him on the slick surface. It was all in vain when a fretful dragon swooped down from above in a litter of dirt and dust, crashing into the unprepared Viking. The teen was forced back down, this time his chest aching along with his back thanks to the Night Fury above him.

“Ow.”

Looking into the dazed dragon’s face, the Dragon Rider worked himself up into a panic when he found acid green eyes clenched closed. He needn’t be concerned. With a shake of his head, Toothless’s eyes burst open and he immediately began to sniff his rider, searching for any injuries he might have received. When he found none, the dragon nudged Hiccup’s face and gave him a few licks, crooning in delight.

“Yeah, I’m fine Toothless,” the Viking chuckled.

The sound abruptly died in his throat when a nearly indistinct whimper came from the darkness. Dread filled his chest at the realization the Druid never responded. Pushing the dragon to the side, the teenage Viking’s eyes futilely sought out Jackson. The added dust and debris in the air made it virtually impossible to find the younger teen.

“Jackson? Please talk to me.”

Hiccup,” a pained gasped had Toothless bounding off into the darkness’s peripheries. The vivid red color of his tailfin an effective guide to lead his rider to the silhouette kneeling on the ground with the ever-present staff resting by the Druid’s foot.

The shadowy form of Jackson was huddled in on himself. Clenching his right shoulder tightly to his chest with an uninjured hand. The way the boy’s whole body was taut and quivering just screamed of agonizing pain.

“Jackson! What’s the matter?” Hiccup fell to his knees by the brunet’s side. Tentatively he reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against the cradled shoulder. He immediately reeled back when a hiss of distress came from the briefest of touch.

“My shoulder,” Jackson wheezed out, clutching the appendage closer to his body, shielding it away from the Viking.

Gulping, the Dragon Rider steeled his nerves and reached out again, this time his hand hovering over the injury. “Hold still, I’m going to take a look. Toothless, give me a small blast.”

The dragon let out a low warble and then a small burst of plasma was hurtling upwards. The impact of the plasma quickly super-heated the cavern’s ceiling to the point the rocks began to glow. With the additional light, Hiccup got his first real look at Jackson and barely held back a gasp. As it was, he couldn’t stop the wince from crossing his face upon glimpsing the Druid's huddled form. His right shoulder was clearly lower than his left and the chief’s son knew Jackson's shoulder had to have been wrenched from its socket as a result of him refusing to let go of Hiccup.

“By the Norns,” the auburn-haired teen inhaled. He had seen an injury like this before and—thank the Goddess Eir—he also remembered how Gobber had set the injury. “I think I can help, but it’s going to hurt.”

The Druid didn’t even look up, silent for only a moment to consider his options, before nodding. “Go ahead.”

“Alright,” Hiccup eyed the shoulder, hands trembling as he sent a silent prayer to Eir. “Toothless, give us a bit more light.”

Another blast at a different angle offered the Dragon Rider a better view. He cautiously took hold of the injured arm and placed his other hand on the brunet’s back.  Looking into watering amber eyes, Hiccup did his best to convey his reassurance with a smile, but even he knew it was strained and not comforting.

A swift twist forced the arm back into its socket, vivid green eyes never once leaving clouded amber orbs. The same couldn’t be said for Jackson. The action wrenched a gasp of pain from the Druid, his eyes going impossibly wide before rolling back into his head as his body slumped backwards in a dead faint. Thankfully, Toothless surged forward. Wrapping his body around Jackson to support his deadweight.

“Hiccup! Hiccup!” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy was pulled from his growing dread that he hadn't set the shoulder correctly when his father’s voice bore down on him from the well’s opening. Fishlegs must have gotten the chief when they went into the well.

Reassuring himself Jackson was fine and just resting against Toothless, Hiccup scurried over to stand just below the opening. Squinting at the light raining down into his eyes, he could make out his father and Fishlegs standing at the mouth of the well.  At least, he thought the two shadowy backlit dots were them, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Not at this distance.

“W—we… I am okay, Dad!” the teenager yelled up through a cupped hand; having to raise his other arm to block the dust and debris drifting down from getting in his eyes. “But Jackson’s hurt.”

There was some faint noise as if his father was speaking with someone else up top before Stoick’s voice echoed down. “Can you fly back up?”

“No, it's too narrow,” Hiccup glanced between the gap in the cavern’s ceiling and Jackson. Toothless had since wrapped his tail securely around the boy to keep the Druid’s body propped upright. The dragon went so far as being mindful of the brunet’s shoulder and held it immobilized to prevent further damage. Now if only the glowing rocks weren’t fading, making it harder to see the black dragon as he was swallowed up by the shadows, things would be looking up.

“Someone get me a rope,” his father’s voice was barely heard as he yelled—probably at Fishlegs—behind him before becoming louder once more. “I'm coming down after you, son.”

“Dad, don't. Then all of us will just be stuck down here,” the Dragon Rider discouraged his father, waving his hands around negatively.

No matter how much he hadn’t wanted his father to meet Jackson in the morning, he really didn’t want his father to meet the teenager as it was now. That wouldn’t be a good first impression, all four of them being stuck at the bottom of a well together. Not to mention, it would only make matters worse. It would be best if they found their own way out of the cavern.

“Well, just stay right there until I can think of a way to bring you both up,” Stoick tried to compromise, banging his hands against the well and knocking a few small rocks lose. Debris rained down into unprepared green orbs and Hiccup hastily took a few steps back, almost tripping when his feet became tangled. He caught himself at the last second and only when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall did he look down.

Wrapped around his prosthetic was a piece of blue and white material. Picking up the cloth, the auburn-haired Viking held up Jackson’s cloak—which Toothless must have brought down with him in his haste to rescue them—in the dim light. 

Glancing from the cloak to its owner, Hiccup made up his mind and tilted his head up. “That could take some doing, Dad, and we don’t know how much time it could take. We could follow the cavern down here and find a way out. The water had to go somewhere and we’ll just follow that. Besides, I have Toothless and Jackson with me. We’ll find another way out.”

“He makes an excellent point, sir. The Night Fury has an uncanny ability to navigate and… this is clearly none of my business,” the Night Fury rider faintly heard Fishlegs's attempt at rationalizing Hiccup's decision with the chief.

Hiccup shook his head; wordlessly wishing the heavyset Viking luck with persuading his father—he knew from experience it wasn’t something done easily—and rejoined Toothless. Carefully, he placed the cloak across Jackson’s upper body causing the unconscious brunet to flinch and groan. The noise had the Night Fury’s ear-plates flattening against his head while emitting a soft cooing noise to comfort the Druid.

Another plasma blast had the dying glow rejuvenated and gave Hiccup a better look at the cavern they'd fallen in to. At first glance, the whole area was one big, enclosed space yet a second glance revealed an opening hidden within a shaded alcove.

“Dad! I—I think I found something,” he moved towards the alcove, hoping his father could hear him as he moved further away from the opening. A few more steps into the shadows had Toothless growling and his rider stopped in his tracks. He knew from experience the Night Fury didn’t growl without a reason and he wasn’t about to go further unarmed. Still, from his new vantage point, he could make out a passageway and not just a dead-end in the alcove. “It looks like a…a tunnel!”

There wasn’t an immediate reply, but after a pause, Stoick’s concerned filled voice drifted down from above. “Well, just be careful down there, son. We'll be standing by if you need us.”

“We will,” Jackson’s haggard silvery tones struggled to put the chief at ease and had the added effect of causing Hiccup to spin around to find the Druid standing, leaning heavily against his staff.

“Jackson?” the Dragon Rider’s voice was higher than normal as he took in how the brunet’s cloak was draped awkwardly over his bad shoulder, barely hiding the way he was cradling his arm protectively to his chest. Toothless was on his good side, a step to the left ready to support Jackson if necessary.

“Sorry for fainting on you,” the brunet offered an awkwardly strained smile that did little to put anyone at ease. In fact, it made the Dragon Rider’s concern for the younger teen grow.

“It’s alright, Spitelout did the same when Gobber reset his shoulder,” Hiccup did his best to alleviate any embarrassment the Druid might have with the knowledge that even a fully grown, hardened Viking had fainted during the same procedure.

“So, is this the way we’re going?” Jackson asked, amber eyes skimming the surrounding shadows, briefly landing on the auburn-haired teenager, and the hidden path behind him before continuing on searching the area.

The Viking thought to tell him he wasn’t going anywhere. However, he had the feeling the effort would go to waste. Hiccup already experienced the Druid’s stubbornness firsthand the night before. The Druid effortlessly talked his way on to the Dragon Academy's training drill that he really shouldn’t have been on.

If Jackson got it in his head he was fine then he would undoubtedly wonder off on his own. The very thought had Hiccup shuttering, imagining numerous ways the brunet could wind up worse off than he already was. It would be better for them to stay together, if only for Hiccup’s own piece of mind.

Somehow, without saying a word in his defense, Jackson had convinced the chief’s son to allow him to tag along. That was a scary thought he wasn’t going to linger on.

Sighing in defeat, Hiccup nodded his head. “Yeah, through the tunnel; but we might have a problem. My lantern broke when we fell, so…”

The Viking trailed off when he saw a smile spread across the Druid’s features despite the immense amount of pain he had to be in. “I think I might have a temporary solution for that.”

Jackson reached down into the pouch on his leg with his good hand and withdrew a white cloth. Hiccup could only watch in puzzlement as he fumbled to open it up one handed. When the Druid finally flipped a piece of the fabric to the side with his thumb, little streams of light began to stretch outwards. Toothless’s ear-plates immediately perked up and not even Hiccup could stop the dragon from creeping closer to the brunet to get a better look, sniffing at the cloth.

“Wha—what is that?” Hiccup stumbled back, eyes wide and face slack as the light intensified. The Night Fury, on the other hand, let out a pleased croon.

The brunet laughed a little as Toothless nudged his hand holding the source of light, purring slightly. “It’s folded sunshine. I used it when me and Toothless were trapped in that glacier to give us some light. It’s one of the few magics I can do. It's not really a spell, more of a ritual…well, no, it's not really a ritual either.  Let's just call it a skill.”

“That’s amazing,” the Dragon Rider took a step closer to get a better look at the folded piece of cloth.

“Uh… thanks?” Jackson ducked his head, shifting on his feet which had the Druid going rigid before releasing a low hissed having pulled something from the simple movement. It took a moment for him to regain his composure, but when he did, he offered the fabric to Hiccup. “Here, why don’t you hold onto it? Slowly unwrap the cloth, just not too fast, or else all the light will escape at once and we’ll be back in the dark.”

“Um, okay,” trembling hands took the cloth passed his way. The moment the fabric was out of his grasp, the brunet’s hand latched on to his staff. Pulling it from where it had been sandwiched between his body and arm.

“Lead the way, Dragon Rider,” Jackson said with a flourishing wave of his staff.

The only evidence of the pain the brunet was in came from the paleness of his knuckles. Every time he aggravated his injury, his grip on the piece of wood would tighten. It was a tell Hiccup would keep an eye on since the Druid seemed to be determined not to let his wounds get in the way regardless of the pain.

“Okay,” the chief’s son reluctantly agreed, wondering again why he wasn’t forcing the other to stay put while he found them a safe way out. Looking down at the piece of cloth emitting rays of sunshine out of its folds, he turned to Toothless and gulped down the trepidation he felt building and nodded his head towards the tunnel. “Bud, what do you say we find out where this leads?”

The dragon gave him an innocent look before sneezing and shaking his head. Rolling his eyes at the display, the Dragon Rider led the way into the tunnel. Walking through the passageway turned out to be a bit difficult with the uneven, rocky path. Mercifully, the size of the space changed very little, if at all, so they didn’t have to worry about hitting their heads or squeezing through any unreasonably small openings. However, the first real obstacle came in the form of a fork in the tunnel.

Hiccup looked unsure between the two paths, giving a quick glance back at Jackson—whose knuckles had regained a bit of color—before randomly picking a direction.

“Okay, uh, this way!” the Dragon Rider chose the second path when a large gust of wind blew through the one he was about to lead them through. “I don't know about you, but I get the distinct feeling we are not alone down here.”

“Agreed,” the grip Jackson had on his staff tightened ever so slightly, yet he still caught the movement when he turned to give the Druid a look. Toothless also rumbled his agreement, something which didn’t make the fluttering in Hiccup’s stomach any better. Actually, the fluttering in his stomach became worse; especially when a howl echoed through the cavern that had nothing to do with the wind or the dragon next to him. “I’d feel better if we got out of here as fast as possible. Something is not sitting right with me.”

There was a consensus of heads bobbing up and down which had Hiccup resuming their trek. If his steps were a little bit faster, Jackson didn’t bring it up and matched him step for step. All of them were a bit twitchy, jerking at any sudden sounds or movements from the shadows. There were multiple tunnels, branching off the one they currently were on, but whenever Hiccup tried to go down some of them, a gale of wind had him changing his mind. Finally, Jackson broke the building tension.

“You know, I think these caverns might run right under the town; wouldn’t you think, Hiccup?” the Druid asked, amber eyes locked on the cavern’s ceiling as if he was trying to see straight through the rock to the surface above.

“I’m sure they do.” Green eyes briefly drifted up only to refocus ahead of him as he unraveled another fold in the cloth. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought there wasn’t much more light left inside the cloth. Most of the folds had been opened and the intensity of the sunshine appeared to be fading. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to say anything though; Hiccup didn’t want to alarm the brunet anymore given his injuries.

A crunch from under his metal leg had him hastily taking a step back. Hiccup was forced to kneel down, bringing the diminishing light closer to see what he'd stepped on. There, embedded in his footprint were a large number of small white shards. Running his hand over the delicate remains, the Dragon Rider held one of them up for Toothless to sniff. When the dragon’s ear-plates went back and his eyes became slits, Hiccup’s growing fear was confirmed.

“What is it?” Jackson asked from behind him.

The Viking didn’t answer immediately; instead, he stood up and unfolded another crease in the cloth to allow a brighter—more intense—light fill the cavern illuminating dozens of curved white broken shards littering the open space. “Dragon eggs."

“Dragon eggs?” the brunet echoed, eyes darting around the area before spotting something else among the eggshells. “What’s that?”

Looking to where Jackson’s staff was pointing; he squinted before moving closer to the object. Tucked away in a niche, lying on its side like it had been abandoned was a decent size wooden chest. However, it was the brand scorched onto the lid that held the Head of the Dragon Training Academy’s attention. For there was a copper-gate helmet crest burned into the wood, the outline had two short sets of spikes coming out on the top of either side of the helmet along with a set of long curved horns below the spikes which told him who the chest belonged to.

“That's the Outcast crest,” Hiccup stated flatly.

It would seem his earlier prediction that the Outcast Tribe had mounted an attack against the Hairy Hooligan Tribe was true. Even the type of attack—a dragon attack—had been correct. He didn’t know if it was paranoia or some type of premonition—Hiccup was leaning towards the former—but what he did know, was they needed to get out of the cavern, now.

“As in the Vikings your tribe is currently at odds with?” Jackson questioned as he poked one of the more intact shells with the end of his staff. The remains crumpled at the simple touch. “Yeah, this screams trap to me.”

Hiccup didn’t disagree with him.

A shriek filled the cavern and the two teens tensed in reaction. The eerie sound had the hairs on the back of his neck rising and his skin prickling with goosebumps. Green eyes darted around, drawn to any movements—imagined or not—in the shadows. Yet, Hiccup couldn't find anything amiss in the dim light.

Growling from his right had the Dragon Rider jerking his head towards Toothless who was crouched close to the ground, ear-plates back and teeth out while slit pupil eyes focused on a particular shadow. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity, but he didn’t doubt the dragon’s instincts. Especially when his own instincts were confirming the same thing: there was something out there.

“Toothless, light up the cave down that way,” Hiccup directed, pointing a finger down the tunnel. The already built-up plasma hurled down the passageway, slamming against a rock wall where the tunnel took an unnatural perpendicular turn. Light poured through the area from where the high-level plasma blast not only superheated the rock but also melted parts of it too.

“Hiccup,” Jackson’s sharp voice drew both dragon and Dragon Rider’s attention to him. When he was sure he had gotten their attention, the brunet gestured his staff up where Hiccup found various newly dug holes in the walls. All of which were perfectly round and just big enough for him to crawl through if he could reach them.

The Viking profusely wished he had his shield right about now. “Those are Whispering Death tunnels.”

Toothless growled once more, eyes locked on to the tunnel closest to him. A faint noise echoed through the hole as something within scurried in the opposite direction. Hiccup placed a hand on the dragon’s snout, effectively cutting off the building whine of a plasma blast being formed. They didn’t know where the tunnels lead and he wasn’t about to chance Toothless accidentally causing a cave-in.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Jackson murmured as he came to stand on the other side of the Night Fury, amber eyes catching Hiccup’s own. “Care to clue me in.”

“Let’s just say Whispering Deaths are not our favorite dragon, right Bud?” the auburn-haired teenager looked at Toothless and gave him a comfortingly pat on the head. The dragon let out an angry snort and shook his head.

“Alright, I’ll leave it for now, but there’s a story there that I want to know,” the brunet began to roll his eyes but abandoned the action halfway through when amber orbs stayed glued to the ceiling. “But, if these Whispering Deaths you speak of made those tunnels, what made that one?”

Leaning his head back, Hiccup found a hole—which was at least four times the size of the other tunnels—right above their heads.

“I don't even wanna know who made that,” the words slipped out without thought and when he did realize what he'd said, his jaw snapped shut. Head jerking to face Jackson, Hiccup prayed his thoughtless comment wouldn't alarm the Druid. Thankfully, the other teen was too engrossed by the large tunnel above their heads to notice, which had Hiccup letting out a sigh of relief only for him to turned into a spluttering mess.

“That is not reassuring at all, Hiccup,” Jackson snorted, the lightness to his voice the only indication he was teasing. Like that, the building tension disappeared with one comment. No longer did the shadows seem to be hiding a potential threat and the diminishing light—while was still a problem—wasn’t a pressing problem they couldn’t handle.

Clearing his throat, the Viking picked a random direction. “Let’s keep moving.”

With lighter spirits, the three continued down the passageway. The light from the folded sunshine growing fainter the further along they got. Jackson kept the metaphorical darkness at bay by weeding the tale of their prior encounter with a Whispering Death out of the Dragon Rider. Regaling the brunet with the memory was ordinary enough that Hiccup was lulled into a false sense of security.

His mind preoccupied with re-counting Toothless’s rivalry with a particular Whispering Death that he failed to notice the lack of commentary from the Druid. It was only when he was finished that he heard the heavy and haggard breaths belonging to Jackson. The brunet's worsening condition hidden by Hiccup's own voice.

Hiccup hesitated, not sure how to tactfully bring it up but he forced himself to say something when Jackson let out a small whimper. “Maybe we should take a break, rest for a while?”

“We don’t have time, the folded sunshine is running out and we need to find a way out before that happens,” the Druid bit out picking up his pace and walking passed the Viking. Toothless looked between him and Jackson and let out a low keen sound.

“That didn’t go as well as it could have,” Hiccup groaned, shaking his head as he and the Night Fury took off after the retreating brunet. It seemed he would forever be surrounded by stubbornness: stubborn fathers, stubborn dragons, stubborn shieldmaidens, and now, stubborn Druids could be added to the list.

Hiccup hurried after the two, turning a corner where he caught up with them, which wasn’t an accomplishment seeing how Jackson was standing in front of what once might have been an opening. Now, after what looked to be a rather recent cave-in, it was a pile of rocks and boulders too heavy for any of them to move.

“Oh, great,” Jackson groaned, running his good hand through his hair. A sentiment the chief’s son wholeheartedly agreed with. It was then the folded sunshine gave up its last ray of light before flickering out. “Oh, and even greater still.”

“Toothless, would you mind?” the Dragon Rider felt the dragon brush up against him, grumbling, as a blast of plasma shot into the air. That's when the situation became problematic.  The problem being that the blast came from in front of him while the dragon's grumbling had come from behind.

Hic~cup,” Jackson breathed out, amber eyes wide opened.

Slowly, as one, both Toothless and Hiccup turned to see the familiar sight of deadly rows of teeth that could and did rotate in circles that usually crushed up rocks but wasn’t opposed from crushing human and dragon flesh when need be. Encompassing the teeth was a large round head crowned with red flared spikes and bulging pupilless white eyes on either side of a curved horned nose. The rest of the dragon’s sea colored physique was long and snakelike, disproportionate to the size of its head. Spines protruded out from all over its body and a pair of medium size wings flared out just behind the dragon’s head.

The Dragon Rider reacted without thinking, diving on top of Jackson and pulling him down while Toothless shot his most powerful blast straight into the smaller than normal Whispering Death’s mouth. The bluish-green dragon moved just in time to avoid getting a face full of plasma but couldn’t evade the attack entirely and was struct on the side. Screeching, the Boulder-class dragon flew around erratically. The fleeting distraction gave Hiccup enough time to yank the Druid over to the riled-up Night Fury and shoved him on Toothless’s back before climbing on himself.

“Let's get outta here, Bud,” the Viking huffed, latching his metal leg in the harness and automatically shifting the red tailfin to flare out for takeoff. Not a moment too soon as the enraged dragon plowed into the spot where they'd been standing only a moment prior.

“Hiccup, I can’t see,” Jackson’s pained yelp was barely heard over the whipping winds. His good arm curled around Hiccup’s waist while the staff in his hand dug into the Dragon Rider’s stomach which Hiccup ignored. The slight pain couldn’t compare to how Jackson’s shoulder must be feeling with the jarring ride.

“I can’t either,” Hiccup shouted back over his shoulder and into the darkness. “But don’t worry, Toothless can.”

To prove his point, Toothless let out a roar before spinning out of the way of a cluster of stalactites hanging down from the top of the cavern before spinning the opposite direction to avoid the stalagmites jutting up from the cavern below.

“No one said anything to me about Night Furies having echolocation,” the brunet squawked into Hiccup’s back as they took another sharp turn.

“Echo- what?” the Dragon Rider butchered the unfamiliar word, but he didn’t have time for an answer as Toothless lurched to a stop as something came bursting out of the ground in front of them. “That's one.”

“Two,” the brunet corrected as the sound of something else bursting through the walls came from behind.

“Three,” Hiccup amended as rocks pelted the side of his face as the Night Fury took an abrupt turn.

“Three too many,” Jackson gasped as Toothless suddenly dove down and out of the way of the Whispering Deaths. They could hear the thud of all three of them ramming into each other.

For a brief moment, Hiccup thought they were free of the Boulder-class dragons, that they had knocked each other out; that was before he heard the fluttering of wings behind them. “Aw, come on!”

He could feel Toothless struggling underneath him, trying to gain additional speed to lose the Whispering Deaths. Yet the Night Fury couldn’t reach the speeds needed with his mechanical tailfin in its current position. The Dragon Rider knew this; he knew he should shift the gears but in doing so they would lose some of the maneuverability they desperately needed in these confined, winding tunnels.

Hiccup was about to shift the tailfin regardless when the dragon slowed on his own and for an instant, he didn’t understand why. Then it clicked. There was one set of beating wings and those belonged to Toothless. They hovered there, waiting for any indication of an impending attack.

“Uh… That's weird,” the Viking murmured while Toothless flew back in the direction they came from.

“Where'd they go?” Jackson asked, straining his eyes as he looked into the abyss.

It was when Hiccup realized he could see amber orbs that he also realized light was filtering in from somewhere above them. “They're heading up! To the town! We have to stop them, Bud.”

“We’ll have to go faster, they’ve got a head start on us,” the Druid pointed out as they skyrocketed up the newly formed hole and into what seemed like a never-ending vertical tunnel. The Night Fury agreed and put on an extra burst of speed without his rider having to switch gears on the tailfin.

“Yeah, that's it, Bud,” Hiccup praised as they climbed higher and higher in the narrowing tunnel which became a hindrance. No longer could Toothless use his full wingspan to get the desired speed and thrust he was used to and it was aggravating the dragon. “Keep going.”

“Do these guys ever make a straight tunnel?” Jackson asked when they took another left swerve followed by two right swerves before they were launching up into the cloud covered sky above. Greedily, the brunet sucked in the dust-free air. “Fresh air. The sky. Thank you. I don’t see how Bunny can live in his Warren without this.”

Hiccup didn’t even bother asking, his attention on the screams of a woman. Leveling out, they gazed down at the chaotic scene below as the newly hatched Whispering Deaths ravaged the town’s buildings and destroyed everything else in their path. He could see various Academy members and their dragons working to fend off some of the hatchlings, but the Boulder-class dragons kept burrowing back into the earth to escape any attempts to capture them.

Groaning in frustration and irritation, the chief’s son nudged Toothless towards the village. “We have to get in there, Bud.”

Instead of heading straight into the fray, Hiccup directed the Night Fury to land near the blacksmith stall. The Viking jumped out of the saddle and turned to help Jackson down. However, the Druid was already in the process of dismounting—albeit a tad bit awkwardly compared to the usual amount of grace the brunet possessed—Toothless without any assistance.

“Toothless, cover us,” Hiccup ordered not bothering to turn around to know the dragon was doing just that. He could already hear the roars coming from the Night Fury as he fended off an approaching Whispering Death.

“What are you doing?” Jackson breathlessly asked, following after the auburn-haired teenager and into the armory. The Viking headed straight for the newly cleaned workbenches. Rummaging around the shop in search of something and leaving a huge mess in his wake.

“My shield, I need it. Whispering Deaths hate light and I can use it to reflect what little sunlight there is back at them,” Hiccup explained, digging through a pile of neatly folded furs.

“Here.” The Dragon Rider turned around to find Jackson setting his staff down on the table and picking up the Gronckle Iron shield he had bypassed in his haste. Relief flowed through him at the sight of the shiny piece of metal which almost completely covered up the small bit of embarrassment he felt for missing that it had been in plain sight all along.

“Thanks,” he gratefully accepted the item, stopping only long enough to take the shield from the Druid’s trembling hand before heading out again, “and stay here. You’re in no shape to fight.”

“You can't be serious! I can help!” Jackson’s indignant yell was ignored as he raced back outside. “Hiccup!”

Hiccup exited the front of the stall to the sight of Toothless fighting a Whispering Death. The Night Fury had more experience than the newly hatched dragon, but the hatchling had a longer tail and used it to her advantage, swiping Toothless’s legs out from under him. It then shot forward, mouth wide open and teeth rotating yet the dragon couldn’t get its mouth around the struggling Night Fury currently exposed stomach.

Hiccup didn’t waste time and leapt in to action. Bringing up his shield, the Dragon Rider caught the stray rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds and angled the reflected beam into the Whispering Death’s light-sensitive eyes.

“Let's shine a little light on the situation. Oh, you don't like that, do ya?” Hiccup’s sarcasm made an appearance when the wild dragon showed exactly how much she disliked the light by reeling back— freeing Toothless in her haste—to get away from the irritant. All the while, the Whispering Death screeched loudly, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to take out the Viking and, thus, the source of the light. She would have succeeded too; however, Toothless—back on his feet and not about to fall for the same trick twice—jumped between her and his rider. Seeing that she was outnumbered, the hatchling made a strategic retreat and flew off.

“Rule number one: Never forget a dragon's weakness,” Hiccup wisely stated, climbing into the saddle. “Come on, Toothless. Let's get 'em.”

The two took off, the auburn-haired teenager turning to glance behind him at a shout of his name and found Jackson waving his staff at him. Amber eyes caught his own and he quickly broke the gaze which further enraged the brunet.

“Sorry Jackson, you can’t come this time,” he yelled to the Druid, flying away.

Chapter 17: A Scream Born from Whispers

Notes:

I know many of you don't watch the series, but I'm just curious if any of you actually look up the dragons I'm talking about on the web? Or if you're satisfied with my descriptions? It's just something I'm curious about. I really don't know why, but it was something that popped into my mind and I had to ask.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hiccup flew towards the dragons belonging to Berk’s Defenders, Toothless effortlessly dodging a few attacks from the Whispering Death along the way. The hatchlings didn’t have the knowledge or experience to create a clever plan of attack, relying on their baser instincts to strike first, ask no questions later. The assaults were easily avoided but their persistence was more than aggravating.

“The Whispering Death tunnels drained our water supply,” Hiccup shouted to catch Astrid's attention as Toothless drew level with Stormfly.

“Yeah, kinda figured that,” the Deadly Nadder rider sarcastically shouted back, transferring her weight to the side as both dragons banked to the left. “We need to keep them in the sunlight.”

“That is why I have this,” Hiccup held up his shield. The sight of the highly reflective metal had the hard look on the blonde’s face softening to that of appreciation, only then to morph into a feral grin. She knew he had a plan and that gave her confidence.

No other words were needed as the shieldmaiden followed his lead and together they corralled the numerous Whispering Deaths. While the Head of the Dragon Academy used his shield to reflect beams of sunlight into the hatchlings’ eyes, Astrid used Stormfly’s tail spine shots to keep them headed in the direction of their choosing: away from Berk.

“It's working,” Astrid relaxed back into her saddle and reined the Deadly Nadder in, allowing the Whispering Deaths to fly passed her while Stormfly fell into line with Toothless. “We're driving them away from the village.”

A ball of flame seared passed Stormfly’s left wing as three more Whispering Deaths joined in on the half a dozen or so hatchlings already on their way out of Berk.

“That's right! You better run,” Snotlout shouted as he and Fishlegs herded a trio of newcomers into the group. Hookfang spat out another small flame when one tried to make a break to the right and Meatlug’s lava stopped another from escaping to the left. Four out of the six Dragon Riders kept the cyclone of Whispering Deaths in line as the hatchlings were shepherded towards the ocean and out of Berk for good. The remaining two Dragon Riders bemoaned the loss of the destruction and chaos the wild dragons represented.

“I'm gonna miss those guys,” Tuffnut wailed, waving goodbye to the retreating Whispering Deaths. “They were, like, dangerous but cool at the same time. Kind of like me.”

“I don't think this is over yet,” Hiccup shook his head. Something at the back of his mind kept nagging at him, a forgotten detail about the species of dragon at the peripheries of his memories that he couldn’t quite grasp. Not to mention, he hadn't run into the hatchling who created the giant hole Jackson found in the caves. Meaning there was something out there they still had to deal with. “Not by a long shot.”

“Stop being so negative. Enjoy the moment, Hiccup! Buy some water!” Snotlout made a wide sweeping gesture at their surroundings and leaned back to lounge in Hookfang’s saddle.

The auburn-haired Viking was about to question why Snotlout was selling water when he was supposed to be supplying it for free when a horrifyingly loud sound shook the very air, throwing off the dragons' balance. Their flight became erratic and unstable, forcing the Dragon Riders to hold on, knowing it was certain death if they were to be thrown from their saddles at this height.

“Wha-at… is… th-at?” Fishlegs slowly drew out his words as the dragons steadied themselves. When no one immediately answered, the Gronckle rider hunkered down in the saddle.

The shaking intensified as the noise rent the air for a second time. Beneath them, the ground gave way and something rose out from the upheaval, putting itself directly in Toothless's path. The Night Fury, for his part, didn't backpedal at the newly revealed dragon, but he did growl at what appeared to be another Whispering Death barring the fact it had white scales. Oh, and it was heavily mutated, having its teeth aligned differently in a chin which reminded Hiccup of the Red Death. Not to mention the albino dragon was massive. Its head bigger than Toothless's whole body and this was only a hatchling.

Blood red eyes level with Hiccup, the massive hatchling roaring as it shook the boulders off its body like they were nothing but pebbles caught in its spines.

“Uh, so that's what I was afraid of,” the Head of the Academy told the others, head tilted as far back as possible to see the whole dragon. “Uh, suggestions anyone?”

The wild dragon’s eyes broke away from the auburn-haired teenager to sweep over the five dragons surrounding it. Blood red eyes narrowed and Hiccup thought they should back off, having unintentionally surrounded and cornered a newly hatched dragon. Everything was new and different for the hatchling and the Dragon Riders chasing and attacking its clutchmates probably had the dragon—no matter how massive it was—frightened.

However, before he could voice his concerns, the albino dragon roared and lashed out. Meatlug’s wings froze for a moment and the Gronckle dropped a few yards down. The action saved her and Fishlegs’ lives as the wild dragon dart away, its tail just inches away from taking off the heavyset Viking’s head.

“What is that thing?” Snotlout screeched, his high-pitched voice belaying his fear but also, his amazement.

“Ah, Fishlegs? Is that in The Book of Dragons?” Hiccup had the Night Fury fly over to the petrified Viking. He hoped to jar the stunned Viking back into reality and out of the gibbering mass of nerves and terror Fishlegs currently resembled. The heavyset blond couldn’t even talk straight and the Head of the Dragon Training Academy had a feeling the other teen’s mind had gone completely blank, just like his eyes. “Fishlegs! Is that thing in The Book of Dragons or not?”

“Uh, definitely not,” the Gronckle rider finally jolted out of his stupor and viciously shook his head negatively.

“Are you sure?” the chief’s son stressed, knowing it came out more sarcastically than he meant it to but not caring. They had a massive dragon threatening to destroy Berk and he needed Fishlegs to be certain.

“Hiccup, I am certain I would have remembered an all-white, Boulder-class, Titan Wing Whispering Death with bright red eyes that bore a hole right through your very soul,” the usually timid blond all but yelled, his voice coming out harsh and his terror being pushed back as he frantically waved his hands around. Hiccup had to smile, if only a little, seeing Fishlegs jump into action despite his fear.

Nodding his head, green eyes locked on the massive dragon roaming the coastline. The Head of the Academy was conflicted. Should they chase after the hatchling and confront it? Or let it go? The second he couldn’t even consider—he was the next-in-line for the position of chief and it was his duty to keep the village safe—and the first had him struggling with his morals. The dragon was only a hatchling after all. His duty to the tribe overrode all else when the massive dragon changed directions and headed straight for the village.

“Toothless, plasma blast.”

The blast hit dead center and Hiccup had a moment of regret when the albino hatchling withered briefly. That was before the wild dragon rounded on him and let out a deafening scream. It was unlike any dragon's roar the Dragon Riders had ever heard and sent them reeling. Worse yet, their dragons were equally affected as their withering riders, all of them struggling to stay in the air but were losing altitude dangerously fast.

“It… It’s affecting our dragons,” Astrid shouted, fighting to stay seated while dodging the spines along Stormfly’s crown which had flared out unintentionally.

“I know,” Hiccup calmly held on to Toothless’s saddle with one hand. Despite the harsh conditions, he was used to difficult rides. The aerobatic exercises and drills the Night Fury duo put themselves through were much worse. A louder, high-pitched scream had Toothless staggering for a second before he shook off the screech and reoriented himself. “That scream is disorienting them.”

Much to the Dragon Riders' relief, the dragon's lung capacity wasn't inexhaustible, and the screaming soon came to an end. 

Hiccup didn’t think his ears could take any more without him going deaf and sank into the saddle at the blissful silence. His reprieve was short-lived upon noticing red eyes assessing him. A calculated look entered the hatchling’s eyes, realizing they were defenseless. For the briefest of moments, the auburn-haired teenager thought the dragon was going to attack. That this might be the end and he braced himself for it.

Instead, the massive dragon used the opportunity to escape.

The Head of the Academy might have let it escape if the hatchling wasn’t headed straight for Berk once more.

“Screaming Death. I love it!” Tuffnut yelled out louder than was necessary. The others barely heard him over the ringing in their ears. They didn’t need their ears to see the cyclone of Whispering Deaths they herded out of the village dart by the recovering Vikings and after the newly dubbed Screaming Death. “Okay, maybe love is too strong a word.”

“Hiccup, what are we gonna do?” the shieldmaiden’s desperation was clear in her voice. Astrid felt helpless watching the Whispering Deaths and the Screaming Death descend upon their home but didn’t dare follow. Without a solid plan of action, going after the cyclone meant serious injury or, even worse, death.

The chief’s son, though, wasn’t feeling as helpless. His mind analyzed the situation, comparing it to the ordeal with the Queen of Dragons, and hastily clobbered together a strategy. He didn’t know if it would work, because unlike the situation with the Red Death when it was just him and Toothless against a much larger dragon, in this scenario, the Screaming Death had allies in the Whispering Death hatchlings.

“You guys focus on the Whispering Deaths. I'll try to keep the Screaming Death busy.”

He hoped.

Hiccup really didn’t want to lose another limb in this altercation as he had the last time he faced such odds.

Snotlout didn’t need to be told twice. “Okay, have fun. See ya!”

“Remember your flight club training!” Hiccup shouted out after the Monstrous Nightmare rider, knowing it was a lost cause when it came to Snotlout’s brash behavior but feeling better, all the same, to get the words out. The other members of the Academy would benefit from the advice as well. With that, he and Toothless went after the much larger problem.

The Head of the Academy pretended he didn’t hear Tuffnut’s parting comment, else he lose the little confidence he had in the twins. “I knew we should've gone to the Academy that day. Quick, someone give me a recap of flight club training!”

Catching up with the Screaming Death was easier said than done. Regardless of the albino hatchling's size, the Boulder-class dragon easily burrowed into the ground—filling in the tunnel as it went—and disappeared from sight. He couldn’t follow the dragon but the upturned earth gave away its position. A scream had Toothless zooming above the village and to the center where the massive dragon had resurfaced and had cornered a fallen shieldmaiden.

“Toothless, now!”

The plasma blast had the Screaming Death screeching, forgetting about the shieldmaiden and rounding on the dragon who dared to attack. Upon spotting Hiccup and Toothless, it tried to take a bite out of them, but the Night Fury was quicker and sped passed the massive dragon before it could even clamp its jaw down. Hiccup was expecting the dragon to fire at them; he was ready for the concentric rings of flames characteristic of Whispering Deaths.

He was not expecting a large ball of flames which exploded before it reached them. The concussive force threw them off balance, but Toothless was quick to stabilize them without his rider intervening. One of the village’s catapults wasn’t as lucky and was destroyed in the blast.

Seeing an opportunity present itself, Hiccup turned the Night Fury around and the dragon let out another high-level plasma blast aimed straight at the Screaming Death. It hit the serpentine body dead on. The assault didn’t daze the albino dragon as Hiccup anticipated. Thus, when they flew too close, the Screaming Death slammed its body into the duo and sent them both crashing towards the ground.

Hiccup was thrown off of Toothless, losing his shield as he rolled across the patch of grass he had landed on. His arm—the one Jackson had gripped—slammed against the ground and for a brief moment, his whole vision whited out. In that brief moment, he knew exactly how the Druid must have felt. A screeching howl had his head pounding but it also got him moving. He scrambled to his feet, regardless of the pain, and looked around him at the chaos.

The Screaming Death was running rampant through the village and it was coming right for him. With nothing else to protect himself with, the auburn-haired Viking threw his arms over his face. When only the dragon’s cries hit his ears, Hiccup tentatively lowered his arms to see a blue-scaled dragon with a wide body assault the albino hatchling with a sonic blast.

The blue dragon’s two sets of triangular wings—a primary set and a smaller set to the rear—allowed the creature to move through the air like a tornado, dodging the massive dragon’s flaying white tail while using his own long barbed tail for a counterattack. Opening his mouth, the blue dragon sucked in a large quantity of air through fanged teeth with a massive underbite and the whole dragon’s body doubled in size. Well, that was to say, the dragon’s whole body excluding the creature’s four stubby legs doubled in size.

A second sonic blast came not a moment too soon. Deflecting a strike from the massive hatchling's spine covered tail and saving the blue dragon’s horned tip nose and yellow reptilian eyes—along with his rider’s head—from a devastating blow.  Sensing the tides turning, the Screaming Death let out another screech before retreating.

Hiccup saw none of this, though, using the distraction as the opportunity it was to collect his shield and scramble over to Toothless’s side. The Night Fury hadn’t moved since the initial crash and yet at his rider's touch, acid green eyes snapped open. Hiccup had to back pedal to keep from being knocked over when Toothless rolled over and up onto his feet, wings flaring out. Dirt flew off the dragon’s black scales and an angry growl ripped through the Night Fury’s throat.

“Glad you’re okay, Bud,” the young Viking tenderly petted Toothless before mounting the Night Fury. Joining the blue dragon in the sky, Hiccup shot the rider a grateful smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I don't even want to know what that thing is, but we need to get it out of here,” Stoick ignored the gratitude, eyes darting to the sky as he watched the Screaming Death fly around. He pulled the thick leather reins back and Thornado responded to the pressure on the metal bit in his mouth, slowing down.

“Way ahead of you,” the teenager grunted when he irritated the scratches from his fall and the bruises undoubtedly forming under his clothing. “I'll try to lead it away from the village.”

“I’ll help,” the chief nodded and for a moment, Hiccup thought about arguing with him. The problem was, they didn’t have time and he needed all the help he could get with the Screaming Death. In the end, he found himself nodding in agreement.

Together, the father and son duo coordinated attacks, blasting the massive dragon away from the populated village and toward the edge of the islands in hopes of herding the Screaming Death passed the cliffs and out to sea. Hiccup thanked the gods when some of the clouds shifted out of the way and beams of sunlight peered down on them. The rays came in handy and he used his Gronckle Iron shield to catch the light and direct it into one of the albino dragon’s red eyes.

“Okay, let's see how it likes this,” the young Viking grinned, noticing the way the Screaming Death flinched when the light reached its eyes. “Just what I thought.” No sooner did the words leave his mouth then did Hiccup's grin faltered, realizing the massive dragon wasn’t retreating like the Whispering Deaths. No, instead the hatchling was heading towards the Haddocks, towards the light.

Hiccup had little time to yell out a warning. “Look out!”

Toothless was already reacting, darting left while Thornado dove to the right and out of the Screaming Death’s path. The two dragons rejoined with one another, their riders watching as the massive dragon flew passed them by a longshot and up into the clouds.

“Apparently, it doesn't mind,” Stoick deadpanned.

“It must not have that weakness,” Hiccup’s voice hitched, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, we better figure out what it does have, and quick,” the chief demanded as the Screaming Death made a reappearance. It didn’t fly at them like before, but hung back, large red orbs eyeing them in contemplation. Then it let out another one of its deafening screams that threw off the dragons’ equilibrium and had them fighting to keep in the air. “What's happening?”

“The scream. It affects the dragons' flying,” Hiccup gritted his teeth, fighting to hold onto Toothless’s saddle with his one free hand that just so happened to be the one which had taken a beating today. He briefly wondered how Jackson was able to hold on to him when they were flying through the cavern since he nearly came off Toothless’s back a few times already and the auburn-haired Viking had plenty of experience at staying on stubborn dragons’ backs.

“We’ll just have to take care of that; Thornado, sonic blast!” The concussive force rippled through the air and slammed into the massive dragon, momentarily silencing the screams of death. However, the Screaming Death didn’t retreat as it had done earlier when faced with Thornado’s sonic blasts. It just angered the albino hatchling further and it took out that anger on the Tidal-class dragon.

“Dad!” Hiccup cried out, heart racing when the explosive ball of flames barely missed them and for a second, he thought it had gotten his father. But a flash of blue had vivid green eyes snapping to the right to find Thornado bursting out of the cloud of smoke generated by the blast, the Screaming Death not far behind.

Toothless shot out after the albino dragon chasing down his father. The Night Fury let lose a few bursts of plasma shots on his own accord, but they weren’t as strong as his earlier blast and the white dragon wasn’t even phased by them as it went hurtling after the Tidal-class dragon.

A sudden eruption of light emanated from the ground moments after Thornado flew pass and Hiccup was forced to shield his eyes with his shield. He wasn't the only one affected.  Toothless reeled back at the sheer intensity while the Screaming Death came to a complete stop as the light washed over its whole body. For a moment, it appeared that the beast was going to fall, incapacitated with pain. That moment passed when red eyes locked into the source of the light.

Hiccup had only a moment to register Jackson as the epicenter of the light. He briefly noted the Druid was standing alone near the edge of the village, leaning on his staff while his bad arm was cradling the fading glow. A glow of light the Screaming Death was now hurtling towards.

Jackson!” Hiccup yelled, pushing Toothless to the limit of his artificial tailfin's speed.

They were thrown back by the shockwave created when the Screaming Death slammed into the ground and by the time the Night Fury corrected himself, it was too late.

A giant cloud of dust obscured the area where Jackson was. Chunks of rocks and other debris thrown by the impact laid waste to the huts in the blast zone. The closest of which was completely destroyed, wooden beams cracked and splintered with a small crater where a boulder landed. Next to that, another hut still partially covered by the cloud of dust had the majority of the side taken out and a hole the size of Meatlug through the roof.

“No,” Hiccup whispered in denial as the dust started to settle and all he could see was a giant hole where Jackson once stood.

A sound from the right had Toothless’s ear-plates perking up and a second wheeze had a high-pitch croon escaping the dragon.

“I thought you said these things couldn’t stand the light,” Jackson coughed out the dust in his lungs from where he rested on top of the holey hut’s roof. He shifted on his feet, trying to stand up, but ended up falling back down, hissing in pain. “I think I might have aggravated my shoulder with that last move.”

“And almost died doing so,” the Dragon Rider snapped, letting his fear manifest in anger at the sight of the brunet alive and whole. “What in Odin’s name were you thinking?”

“That I had folded sunlight which was supposed to be the dragon’s weakness and I could help,” the brunet shot back defensively, pulling his bad arm closer to his chest with his good hand as if to protect himself not only from the pain but from Hiccup’s anger. Remnants of sunshine slipped out between clenched fingers as the folded sunshine fought to maintain what little glow remained.

“Yeah, well, this thing seems to actually be ‘attracted to’ the light,” the Viking sighed as the rest of his rage left him feeling hollow inside. Jackson was only trying to help and while his light show almost got himself killed, it had also kept the Chief of Berk from the same fate. What really mattered was that they were all alive thanks to the Druid’s intervention.

Hiccup intended to apologize for his initial reaction and profusely thank the brunet for his good deed. However, his life being what it was, that was the moment when the Screaming Death came back out of the hole it had dug and let out a deafening roar. Red eyes darted every which way before landing on the faint light coming from Jackson’s hand.

The Druid looked down at his hand and then back up at Hiccup, terror in his eyes. “Get out of here!

He knew what Jackson meant, Hiccup knew he meant for him and Toothless to go in the opposite direction. Yet, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to Jackson again. Not after saving both his and his father’s life in the span of one day.

Toothless seemed to agree with him and dove at the roof as the Screaming Death mirrored the Night Fury's actions. Being the closer of the two, not to mention faster, Toothless reached the brunet first. Scooping Jackson up with his paws and cradling the small human to his chest without breaking stride, the Night Fury blew passed the Screaming Death.

“Jackson?” the Viking started, wanting to say something but no words came to mind.

“Can’t say much for the accommodations, but it’s a hell of a lot better than where I was previously,” came the slightly winded silvery voice. Hiccup let out a giant exhalation, green eyes glancing down at the holey hut which was no longer standing and involuntarily flinched. “Now what?”

“Give me a minute to think.”

“I don’t think we have a minute, the gigantic white dragon is chasing us,” and sure enough, when Hiccup glanced backwards, he was greeted with the sight of the Screaming Death following them. Worst yet, it was gaining on Toothless now that the Night Fury had to deal with the weight of two teenagers instead of one.

“Okay, so Screaming Deaths are attracted to the light. I guess that can be a weakness too,” the Dragon Rider rationalized to himself, looking back over his shoulder again to make sure the albino dragon was chasing them. Looking out at the open water ahead, a new plan began to take root. “Toothless, to the sea stacks.”

Toothless growled out in understanding and banked to the left, hard. The Screaming Death shot passed them, but they didn’t gain much of a distance between them and their pursuer. It was learning quicker than a regular Whispering Death hatchling; and while it did overshoot the Night Fury and his passengers, it didn’t go too much further. In fact, it was already heading straight for them again. Red eyes never left the wisps of sunshine Jackson still held on to.

“Hiccup, what are you thinking?” the brunet yelled and Hiccup got the feeling if he could, Jackson would be giving him a pointed look with those ethereal amber eyes.

“Don’t worry, just hang on tight,” the Viking tried to reassure the Druid. He had a feeling he failed miserably since it didn’t sound comforting even to his own ears.

There was nothing more he could do or say as Toothless reached the sea stacks and Hiccup was forced to give his full attention to shifting the gears of the tailfin to give the dragon the proper balance of speed and agility he no longer had without the Dragon Rider’s aid. They were able to gracefully maneuver through the sporadic network of rock columns. The Screaming Death, on the other hand, wasn’t having as easy of a time navigating the tight turns and narrow openings. Its tail and massive body regularly rammed into the large rocks, pulling growls of pain from the white dragon’s maw and toppling a few of the unstable sea stacks.

“Need a little help?” a familiar voice came from the right and Hiccup turned his head in time to see Stormfly leveling off beside Toothless. Trailing after the Deadly Nadder was the rest of the other Dragon Riders—who were having a little trouble keeping up with the Night Fury and Deadly Nadder while also staying out of reach of the Screaming Death—and Hiccup couldn’t help the feeling of relief bubbling up.

“More than a little,” Hiccup confessed as they dodged another sea stack, Astrid the only one veering to the left with Toothless as the other dragons swerved to the right. “It doesn't have the Whispering Death's weakness.”

“No, it goes after the sunlight,” Jackson interjected, drawing blue eyes away from green to gaze down at the blue mass of fabric Toothless was cradling to his chest for dear life.

“Jackson?” Astrid’s face went a little pale. Blue eyes opening and closing in rapid succession a few times as if blinking away the sight in front of her. The image didn’t go away and refused to change no matter how many times she blinked.

“Hi Astrid, fancy meeting you here,” the silvery tone chirped cheerfully regardless of the situation the Druid currently found himself in, something that Hiccup had to give the foreigner credit for. It wasn’t every day one went from breaking treaties with ally tribes and chasing after dragons to falling down wells and being hunted by a massive, mutated dragon and its clutchmates. He was holding up pretty well considering. “Just so you know, I’m blaming Hiccup.”

Hey!

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I’m just blaming you for it,” Jackson clarified and the chief’s son just knew, he just knew, there was a huge grin on the brunet’s face. Somehow, in spite of everything going on around them and most likely being in pain, the Druid found the time to tease him. Hiccup wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “Besides, who told me they hated sunshine? Hmm?”

“Okay, fair point,” the auburn-haired teenager conceded, concluding the foreigner was not having a mental breakdown. Although, it further solidified Hiccup’s growing concern the Druid’s life from before coming to Berk wasn’t as uneventful as he portrayed. It also had the chief’s son wondering just how long ago Jackson lost his family. With his carefree acceptance of almost being killed—not to mention, throwing himself into the line of fire—the younger teenager was acting similar to the Vikings his father would worry about. The ones who attempted to reunite with their loved ones already feasting in the Halls of Valhalla.

The thought had Hiccup vowing to keep a closer eye on Jackson.

“So how do we beat it?” Astrid asked, leaning her weight to the right and Stormfly turned sharply, narrowly avoiding a ledge protruding out of a sea stack.

“We give it what it wants,” Jackson's voice rose a few levels in volume, catching on to Hiccup’s plan. “I hope you have some way to keep it following us. I’m out of sunshine down here.”

A small white cloth fluttered behind the fast-flying dragons, back towards the Screaming Death who promptly swallowed the small piece of material.

“Don’t worry, I'll keep it following me,” Hiccup directed the stray beams of sunlight at the albino dragon with his shield. “Astrid, you and the others get behind and hit it with everything you have.”

“Got it,” the shieldmaiden readily approved, diverting her flight path away from Toothless to join the others—that the Head of the Dragon Academy would occasionally glimpse as they weaved through the sea stacks—and fill them in on the plan.

Hiccup made sure the Screaming Death was too focused on the light reflecting off his shield to give Astrid enough time to coordinate an attack with the rest of the Academy members. Thankfully, the massive dragon took the bait and followed him, upping the stakes by firing a few fireballs. Toothless used the sea stacks to his advantage and dodged behind a large, thick stack and out of harm’s way.

“That last one was a little close,” Jackson helpfully informed the Dragon Rider. Although, his voice was thready and Hiccup had to strain to hear him. It sounded almost like he was about to pass out again.

“Jackson, hang in there just a little longer,” the Viking shouted around the lump forming in his throat, cajoling the brunet as he shifted his weight and Toothless ducked under a falling sea stack.

“Okay,” the silvery slurred voice barely reached Hiccup’s ears.

The lump in his throat lessened at the mere glimpse of Barf’s head peeking out from behind one of the sea stacks up ahead. Relief washed over him and the Dragon Rider directed Toothless towards that particular stack.

“Barf, let him have it,” Ruffnut cried when the Night Fury shot passed. A cloud of flammable gas exploded from the right head of the Hideous Zippleback followed by a spark from the left head of the dragon. The spark ignited the gas, creating a small explosion with the Screaming Death in the middle and thrusted the beast into the path of Hookfang’s fire blast.

“Not so tough after all, are ya?” Snotlout jeered as Hookfang flew around the disoriented dragon. The Screaming Death roared and launched a fireball towards the Monstrous Nightmare but it didn’t even come close to hitting its target. It did, however, come extremely close to nailing Meatlug though, much to her rider’s terror.

“H—he didn't mean that, sir… uh, uh, ma'am… whatever you are,” Fishlegs stammered, holding up his hands in the universal sign for surrender. Not that the albino hatchling understood—or cared—about the gesture.

Instead, it let loose a barge of fireballs at the scattered dragons, one ball of fire right after another and the Dragon Riders were forced to retreat. The second assault was stopped in its tracks when a beam of sunlight distracted the Screaming Death. Turning towards the source, the albino dragon located Toothless perched on top of one of the sea stacks where Hiccup was reflecting the sun's rays into red eyes with the use of his shield.

“Let's see if we can use its size against it,” the auburn-haired Viking growled. Toothless echoed him with a growl of his own before launching them up into the air. Jackson, now safely seated in the saddle behind him, weakly held onto the fabric of Hiccup’s fur vest while his staff was tucked between their bodies. “Hyah! Come on, Toothless! A little higher.”

Behind him, the barely coherent brunet mumbled something in his native tongue and a sudden gust of wind pushed the Night Fury higher, passing through the clouds before they evened out. The hold on the back of his vest all but disappeared after that, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hiccup. Without thinking, he let go of the saddle with his left hand and reached behind him to latch on to Jackson. The only thing keeping him connected to the dragon was his feet in the stirrups, which had to be enough.

“Hold on. We’re almost there,” the Dragon Rider spoke softly into Toothless’s ear-plates as they skimmed across the clouds. The sound of teeth chomping increased in frequency and sound with each passing flap of the Night Fury’s wings. “Now!”

With that simple command, the Night Fury dove down. Hiccup could feel the weightlessness that came with such a dive, his body separating from the saddle. However, he didn’t grab hold of the saddle and maintained his awkward hold on Jackson while keeping the shield in place, reflecting the light towards the Screaming Death to ensure the beast would follow. 

The wind whistled by Hiccup’s ears and he could feel the pressure building up but gave it no heed. Instead, he tightened his hold on the brunet and used all the strength he could muster in his legs to stay in the saddle. Vivid green eyes watered, but he trusted Toothless to keep them from plummeting into the water. The Night Fury didn’t disappoint, flaring out his wings to catch them mere feet above the ocean’s waves, never losing any speed as they skimmed the surface.

The Screaming Death copied Toothless. Yet, the beast’s tail and lower body struck the water's surface. Its wingspan not able to complete the maneuver with the same precision as the Night Fury but enough to keep it from submerging itself. The albino dragon screeched, doing its utmost to take out its failure on Toothless by taking a bite out of the Night Fury’s tail. The Screaming Death was not successful but only barely. The last bite scarcely missed tearing through the red tailfin’s tip.

“That's it. Keep coming. Almost there, big guy,” Hiccup murmured to himself as they reached the sea stacks again and swerved through them. This time, however, the Screaming Death wasn't having any of that and plowed through a couple of the smaller, less sturdy sea stacks. The beast didn’t appear to be affected by crashing through the stacks while boulders rained down on its body. It actually seemed to be gaining speed.

Toothless increased his pace and banked right, momentarily disappearing from the albino dragon’s sight. The respite gave the Night Fury duo the time needed for Toothless to position himself in front of the cliff face and Hiccup angle the shield just right. The Head of the Dragon Academy wasn’t as prepared as he would have like when the Screaming Death tore through the largest sea stack and immediately head for the ray of light.

Hiccup almost released his hold on Jackson only to reaffirm his grip when those red eyes took up most of his sight. Only then did Toothless fly skyward with one powerful flap of his wings.

The Screaming Death didn’t stand a chance.

It couldn’t change directions in time and impacted headfirst into the cliff. The beast fell to the beach below, momentarily knocked out, but with it also came a few boulders that were knocked loose in the collision. When the dragon came to, it was to a pain filled whimper as one of the boulders landed on the Screaming Death's wing and was hastily headbutted off.  However, it was clear by the angle of the wing and how the albino hatchling held it that the Titan Wing wouldn’t be able to fly.

The pain filled screech was loud enough to wake the dead, or in this case, jolted the brunet awake.

“His wing is hurt,” Jackson slurred into Hiccup’s ear, causing the auburn-haired teenager to jerk at the unexpected feeling of the whispered words against his ear. Quickly, he released his grip on the brunet as if the touch burned. However, he didn’t have to worry, the Druid hadn’t even noticed the awkward hold; amber eyes fixed on the wailing dragon flopping around down below them. “He can't fly.”

“A downed dragon is a dead dragon,” Hiccup spoke softly, more to himself than to the brunet. The guilt was already eating away at him. He hadn’t meant to cripple the dragon; he just wanted to hurt it enough to force it to retreat. The Hairy Hooligan Tribe’s safety came first after all, but this was not what he wanted.

The Dragon Rider needn’t have to worry long as the dozen or so Whispering Death hatchlings flew to the Screaming Death’s aid. They flew around the much larger dragon and worked together to lift the dragon off the sandy beach. A few of them wrapped their serpentine bodies around the white dragon while two on either side got underneath its wings. After a few false starts, they managed to lift the massive hatchling and began to fly away.

“Wow,” Jackson said in awe. Hiccup had to agree, to see such mutualistic behavior out of the young dragons, it was a wonder.

Toothless, on the other hand, did not like watching a potential threat regroup. His flying became erratic and bumpier for his passengers as the Whispering Deaths lifted the Screaming Death. Ear-plates flattening against the Night Fury’s head and disgruntled growls came from the agitated dragon when the cyclone flew out to sea and away from Berk.

“Whoa, Bud, whoa. It's hurt. Let it go,” the Viking soothed, rubbing the black dragon’s head just the way he knew Toothless liked. “We have our own injured to take care of.”

“I’m right here ya know,” the brunet grumbled tiredly, his weight settling once more on Hiccup’s back.

“Yeah, I know,” the Head of the Academy replied, hiding a small smile as they headed out to regroup with his friends and treat those injured in the chaos.

“Thanks for the save,” Jackson mumbled softly as his voice drifted off.

“You’re welcome.”


“I found Outcast markings on a crate in those tunnels. I think Alvin planted those eggs, knowing they would hatch and tear Berk apart. He might not be riding dragons yet, Dad, but he is using them,” Hiccup explained later that night as they prepared for the evening meal.

It was the first chance he got to speak with his father at all regarding the crates he and Jackson found under Berk. What with everything else going on and after the whole incident, the chief had been in high demand. Busy coordinating repairs and settling tensions while the Dragon Riders took it upon themselves to fill in the holes created by the hatchlings.

“We'll deal with Alvin and his wild dragons later. Right now, we have to fix our water problem,” Stoick nodded, pushing the potential threat of Alvin and his Outcasts to the side to focus on the more immediate problems the tribe faced.

“You don’t have to worry about that. Fishlegs found the well filling itself back up. The Screaming Death's digging must have created a new channel for the water and redirected it back to our well,” the teenager grinned at the memory of a soaking wet Meatlug and Fishlegs coming to him with the news.

“Right. Well, that means Gobber will be getting his bath tomorrow then.” The chief let out a huge sigh of relief as his shoulders sagged; no one wanted to have to deal with a foul-smelling blacksmith longer than necessary, especially the Haddocks who had to deal with the man more than most.

“The twins will be happy to help, if it means someone else’s pain.” Stepping out of his father’s way, allowing the man to set the cauldron he pulled off the hearth on to the counter where Hiccup was busy cleaning the dishes that had been stacking up in the last few days. “Dad, I'm more concerned about what came out from under Berk.”

“What are you talking about, son? That thing's long gone,” Stoick questioned, ceasing what he was doing to give his son his full attention. The young Viking had to fight to keep himself from fidgeting and still didn’t succeed. His best bet was getting it over with quickly. He just hated to be the bearer of bad news, twice in a row.

“I'm not so sure, Dad. Whispering Death hatchlings are known to return to their birthplace and claim it as their own,” Hiccup said.

He’d gone to Fishlegs to confirm his suspicions when he had remembered that little tidbit of information and the dragon obsessed Viking had come to the same conclusion. The Dragon Rider knew he had forgotten something about Whispering Deaths when they had been dealing with the Screaming Death and after remembering, he had felt nauseated at the possible consequences for Berk.

“What are you saying?” the chief demanded, brushy eyebrows crumpling together and green eyes turning as hard as stone.

“I'm saying I don't think we've seen the last of the Screaming Death,” Hiccup sighed as the hut descended into silence. They sat there for some time, neither of the Haddock men wanting to speak, not knowing what to say. The only sound coming from the crackling of the fire and the clinking of metal against metal coupled with the splashing of water as the young Viking finished with the dishes.

“Enough of that for now, we'll discuss this more later,” Stoick abruptly took the now clean cauldron from his son and placed it back over the hearth next to a full cauldron the chief had sent for from the Great Hall. “Right now, we need to get dinner ready. After all, Jackson’s coming over. What time did you tell him to arrive?”

Hiccup cringed, eyes closing involuntarily as he groaned.

He’d completely forgotten about his father wanting to meet the Druid and didn’t get the chance—or the courage—to invite Jackson over. The last he'd seen of the brunet was when he and Toothless dropped him off at Gothi’s to get her to look him over. With the lengthy line of Vikings already waiting to be seen by the tribe’s healer, Hiccup had left him in the capable hands of one of the various shieldmaidens assisting Gothi.

“Son?” Stoick questioned and the teenager took a deep breath, stalling while building up the courage to say something—anything—at the same time. He really didn’t know how to explain to his father he hadn’t invited Jackson over. Thank Odin, he was saved from the disappointing look his father was sure to give when there was a knock at the door. “Ah, that must be him now. I’ll get it.”

The massive redheaded Viking ambled on over to the door and Hiccup let out a sigh at the reprieve. Hopefully, whoever was at the door would put his father in a good enough mood that when he explained to the man why Jackson wasn’t coming for dinner that night, he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Ah, you must be Jackson!” his father’s voice echoed through the hut.

Hiccup went still.

“Yes sir,” came the silvery decibels the Dragon Rider was becoming very familiar with.

Notes:

Also, I hate that I made Jack faint so much. It wasn't my intention but between the pain—which I've passed out from when I popped my shoulder out of place—and the use of his magic—which in RotG he passes out from learning the new ice trick and I was trying to be consistent—he kept fainting. [Jack has kindly informed me that he doesn't faint, but passes out. He's not a damsel in distress, thank you very much.]

Chapter 18: Dinner at the Haddock Hut

Chapter Text

Hiccup flew to the door. He ended up tripping over a chair in his haste and stumbled forward, nearly falling on his face. Thankfully, his metal foot dug into the floor, keeping him from faceplanting.

“Hiccup has told me so much about you! Weren’t you the one to distract the Screaming Death away from me? Well, don’t just stand there, come on in. We were just about to start dinner,” Stoick moved to the side, revealing a bewildered brunet who looked like a deer in a hungry dragon’s sight. Actually, with the sling peeking out from underneath the folds of the Druid’s cloak and his dirty clothing, he looked more like the aftermath of getting between Meatlug and her granite.

“Uh, thank you? I uh, brought over some venison. And, um, I got Toothless to carry it for me, what with my arm and all,” Jackson made a gesture to his limp arm with his ever-present staff as the Chief of Berk ushered the comparatively tiny teenager through the door.

Following behind him was indeed the Night Fury. Hiccup hadn't been aware Toothless had left the Haddock's hut. Last he’d seen of the Night Fury, Toothless was on the roof, diligently watching the sky for any sign of the Boulder-class hatchlings while Thornado patrolled the perimeter. Yet, there he was, carrying a large chunk of meat suspended from a few ropes in his jaw while looking rather pleased with himself.

“How’d you get him to help you?” Hiccup couldn’t stop himself from blurting out the words as vivid green eyes took in the Night Fury at the Druid’s side. Even one of his father’s eyebrows rose at the sight, not unaffected by what he was seeing.

Toothless wasn’t known to help the villagers—in all honesty, none of the dragons were—unless his rider coaxed him into it. Those that tried were usually ignored or the more persistent villagers daring enough to demand the dragon’s help were reduced to blubbering messes with a single growl. There was one instance where he had become violent and shot a small plasma blast at the Viking. However, since it was Mildew and the grouch had asked the dragon to take his last breath, Stoick couldn’t blame him.

“I bribed him with fish,” Jackson replied without any shame, drawing two pairs of green eyes away from the dragon and back towards the grinning Druid.

“That would do it,” the teenage Viking groaned and shot the dragon a pointed look. Toothless didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. No, he actually looked proud of himself for getting a few fish out of the Druid for doing practically nothing.

“That’s a fine piece of meat, how about we cook this up for dinner instead of having that goulash Norbert sent over. Sounds good?” Stoick asked, slapping the brunet on the back which had the teenager stumbling forward and Hiccup winced in sympathy. He had been on the receiving end of those slaps various times and had been knocked over a few times before he learned how to catch his balance within a moment’s notice all because his father didn’t know his own strength.

“Uh,” shifting his weight, amber eyes darted from one Haddock to the next. Not certain what was happening and was looking for answers from one of them.

“Sounds great Dad!” the Viking cutoff anything Jackson could say as he came around the taller teen and pushed the baffled brunet towards the table.

“Great,” the chief beamed, relieving the large piece of meat from Toothless with one hand.

“I have a feeling that I am missing something here, something big,” the Druid whispered as he artfully removed himself from Hiccup’s manhandling. Yet, he still somehow managed to end up exactly where the auburn-haired teenager intended him; sitting in one of the chairs furthest away from his father. With the man busy cutting the ropes off the venison with his axe—which was more overkill than normal for him, but since Gobber had fixed the weapon, he'd been eager to use it—he wouldn’t hear their discussion.

“Uh, yeah, about that. I was going to invite you to dinner, but with everything happening today… I kinda…. Forgot,” Hiccup finished lamely, rubbing the back of his neck and offered what he hoped was an apologetic look. Even to his own ears, it sounded flat and did not hold up to scrutiny. “Sorry?”

The reaction he got wasn’t what the Dragon Rider was expecting. He wasn’t expecting anything really, maybe a joking comment or two about the last few days or amber eyes rolling at the absurdity of it all. Hiccup was not prepared for Jackson to freeze while ethereal eyes slowly slid across the table and towards his father before lowering to his lap where fingers fiddled with his staff. He definitely was not prepared for a voice so soft that Hiccup could barely hear, yet the clear longing and earnesty was unmistakable and couldn’t be hidden.

“You were going to invite me for dinner?”

The hand that had been rubbing his neck slowly fell to his side and he gave the brunet a worried glance. Had he made some sort of faux pas of some kind? They had eaten together at the Great Hall that one time, so it couldn’t have been the eating together. So, it had to be something to do with inviting him over to his hut.

Was there some weird Druid custom about inviting them over? Did he just commit some kind of Druid Taboo? That would be bad, unbelievably bad. Was there something he could do to make up for committing a Druid Taboo?

“I was,” the Viking fought back a cringe, dearly hoping he hadn’t committed a Druid Taboo but couldn’t find it in himself to lie either. He tried to think of something to say, to make things right but came up empty-handed.

“I’ve never been invited to someone’s house for dinner before,” Jackson mumbled, still fumbling with the piece of wood in his lap and refusing to look up.

The Dragon Rider momentarily flashed back to earlier in the day when Toothless all but picked him up, trying to drag him to go see the brunet. But he hadn’t the courage to invite the Druid to dinner. He hadn’t wanted to humiliate himself in front of the brunet and didn’t that make Hiccup feel like dragon dung? Jackson definitely did not need to know he had done everything in his power to get out of asking the Druid that very same question. He hastily brushed the thought away—already feeling worse than dragon dung—in favor of answering Jackson.

“Well, we’d love to have you, right Bud?” the Dragon Rider gave a feeble smile when he saw amber eyes peering out from under brown locks and turned towards Toothless to hide the guilt he was sure was painted across his face.

The dragon gave him his most unimpressed stare, eyes narrowed and ear-plates drooping low. However, upon noticing Jackson’s eyes on him, the Night Fury’s whole demeanor changed. He sat up straight, ear-plates perking up and his eyes becoming impossibly wide and innocent looking. An uplifting warble from Toothless had a frail smile tugging at the brunet’s lips.

“So, Jackson, how are you liking Berk so far?” Stoick unknowingly gave his son a reprieve from his mortified state by drawing the Druid’s attention towards the chief and away from his heir.

The man had long since put the axe aside and had been busy inspecting the meat. A few of the fatter pieces had been chopped off and placed to the side, though—thankfully—Stoick had been using a smaller blade at the time and not the axe. Grabbing the slab of meat, he headed over to the hearth and picked up the metal rod resting nearby. Skewering the venison on the spit, Stoick placed the rod over the open flames to roast.

“It’s…nice. Different from where I am from,” Jackson answered, fiddling with his staff which drew vivid green eyes to the fingers running up and down the wood for a third time that night. Hiccup was starting to see a pattern and was beginning to believe the gesture might just be a nervous habit. He filed the information away for future use. “But it is worth getting used too. Especially the dragons, I really like the dragons.”

Toothless crooned at the admission and rubbed his head against the Druid’s side. Jackson chuckled, his fingers finally stilling on his staff. The brunet set the crook on his lap and reached out, scratching the Night Fury beneath the chin. The dragon all but became boneless at the Druid’s petting. Acid green eyes closing as Toothless leaned into the touch and purred in delight.

“You don’t have dragons where you’re from?” Stoick asked, causing his son’s head to snap in his direction. The boy then began to make frantic gestures to cease and desist with the line of questioning but the chief completely missed the movements.

“No, they were all wiped out in the Great Purge,” the Druid’s hand ceased scratching the Night Fury’s chin and drew back in while amber eyes drifted down into his lap as fingers began to fidget with his staff once again.

Acid green eyes sprang open at the loss of the pleasant sensation and the dragon’s content croons tapered off. Toothless, not liking that the petting had stopped, butted his head gently against Jackson’s side insisting on the scratches to begin again. Something which had the brunet shaking his head fondly at the Night Fury’s antics but he relented and scratched under Toothless’s chin again. While the Druid was seemingly occupied, Hiccup hastily made his way around the table to confront his father.

“Dad, did you have to ask him that?” the Viking hissed quietly in an attempt to keep Jackson from overhearing them. It would seem the Dragon Rider was making a habit of his own tonight, one that consisted of clandestine conversations between one of the two other occupants in the hut.

“What?” Stoick asked in a not so quiet whisper which had auburn hair whipping around to make sure the Druid hadn't heard. He sighed in relief when he saw Jackson kneeling on the ground, rubbing Toothless’s belly who was putty in his hands. One of the Night Fury’s back legs was kicking the air in time with the brunet’s scratches.

Satisfied they wouldn’t be overheard, the Viking’s attention turned back to his father. “The king of Jackson’s homelands had anyone who was even remotely associated with magic killed, including Jackson’s parents and pretty much all their dragons. He hadn’t even seen a dragon in person until he was attacked by a pride of Changewings in the Barbaric Archipelago.”

“The boy’s all alone?” the chief’s eyes gained a new gleam to them as they traveled over to rest on Jackson. “Wait, he survived an encounter with a pride of Changewings?”

“Mmhmm, which is why he’s been living with Gobber. It’s not only because he’s an orphan, but because Gobber’s new dragon, Grump, was the one to save him from the Changewings,” Hiccup nodded, assisting his dad by turning the spit to cook the other side of the meat since the bottom was charred black. “Just… just don’t bring up his homelands.”

“Got it,” Stoick whispered back harshly before turning his attention to the Druid, voice once again its normal—albeit loud—level. “Jackson, why don’t you tell me about yourself; I like to know all the Vikings on Berk.”

“A good trait for a leader, something a few of the Guardians should have learned,” Jackson remarked from his position on the floor, the second part of his comment had Stoick looking at Hiccup for an explanation, who shook his head just as confused as his father. “First of all, I’m not a Viking, I’m a Druid.”

“A Druid?” the man asked scratching his beard at the unfamiliar word. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of them.”

“I don’t suppose you would, our homelands are pretty far off,” the brunet shrugged, Toothless finally allowing him to cease his petting without the dragon insisting on more.

Stoick, ignoring the dirty looks his son was sending him, sat down in his own chair and looked at the boy on the floor. “I’d like to hear more, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Jackson shook his head and rearranged himself into a more comfortable position. He ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor with his staff laying across his lap and absentmindedly rubbing his injured shoulder. “Druids are a mostly peaceful people but there are always exceptions to the rule. Many Druid clans are nomadic in nature, moving from one settlement to the next to commune with nature. The Druid Clan Taliesin—from which I am descended from through my Mom's lineage—had a permanent encampment in The Valley of the Fallen Kings.

“Well, it was permanent until the settlement had to be abandoned during the Great Purge. Before leaving, the Taliesin Clan concealed the location of The Valley through strong enchantments and spells so the king couldn’t destroy what lay hidden within its depths: The Crystal Cave. For it is said, the Crystal Cave is the birthplace of magic and with its location secreted away, protected from anyone who would wish to destroy it by the spirit of the Taliesin Clan, magic can continue to thrive.”

“The birthplace of magic? Your whole clan was like Gothi?” Stoick asked, sitting up straighter and leaning slightly forward, something Hiccup had only seen his father do when he was completely absorbed in a council meeting and was genuinely interested in the topic at hand.

Hiccup couldn’t help but smile. He had a feeling his father would be drawn into Jackson’s tale. He had witnessed it again and again with so many other Vikings. Many of them would come by to drop off their children or younger siblings for one of the Druid’s weekly story time only to end up staying themselves when the brunet began to weave his tales, drawing them in.

“Actually Dad, from what Jackson has told us, some of the members of his clan were even more powerful than Gothi,” the auburn-haired teenager explained as he helped take the blackened meat off the fire. “On their scales, Gothi would be on the lower end of average for their shamans. Isn’t that right?”

“Well, since I still haven’t met Gothi yet, I’m basing my judgement on what I’ve been told and, from that, I estimate she is in the range of a shaman with an average level of power,” the Druid agreed, eyes darting from Stoick to the ground, a light flush on his face. “I mean no disrespect to your healer, sir.”

“None taken,” the corners of the chief’s mustache twitched upwards in amusement. The boy was adorable, thinking a little comment like that would offend him. He had numerous derogatory comments made about him and members of his tribe by others which were meant to hurt, the boy’s comment about Gothi wouldn’t have even registered if he hadn’t made such a big deal of it. “And how would you fair on this scale of yours?”

“Even lower than Gothi,” the flush on Jackson’s cheeks became even darker as he ducked his head. Though, the brunet’s admission with no hesitation surprised Stoick. Vikings weren’t known for admitting to their weaknesses, so to hear a child admit to one was a unique experience for the seasoned chief.

“But still pretty good, you did make that folded sunshine that helped us out today,” Hiccup pointed out, struggling with the large platter filled with the cooked meat.

“That was no big deal,” the Druid looked to the side, cheeks already pink yet the color was spreading to his ears and down his neck.

“Folded sunshine? Was that what the bright flash of light was? The one that distracted the Screaming Death?” Stoick inquired, taking the platter from his son with a single hand and placing it at the center of the table.

“Yeah, and we used it down in the caverns when my lantern broke too,” the Dragon Rider walked around the table and collected the clean dishes. He turned around, only to almost run into Jackson who plucked the cutlery off the top of the plates with a smile and began to help set the table.

“Well, what else can you do?” Stoick watched as the pair of teenagers worked in tandem to set the table. Jackson had a little trouble separating the utensils, having to both hold and separate them with his one good hand while also clenching his staff between his body and his incapacitated arm. He ended up just holding the wooden cutlery out for Hiccup to take when needed.

“With magic?” the brunet tilted his head back, looking upwards as if he would find the answer there. He ended up shaking his head and looking back down with a small smile on his face. “Nothing more really, most of the magics I know is knowledge based and working with the Balance of Nature. In my home settlement, I was referred to as Jack of All Trades, since I knew a little about a lot of things but wasn’t great at any one thing.

“In the spring I would help gather wild herbs, berries, and edible vegetation, I would assist the hunters in the summer skinning and tanning hides, while in the fall I would lend a hand to the farmers with their harvests and herds. Winter was spent with my mom and sister, making new clothing and furthering my studies.”

“And now you work at the forge,” the chief drummed his fingers against the tabletop, curious at how the brunet had managed to do everything he listed. He had no doubt Jackson was telling the truth, it was just hard to believe the waif of a boy could do so when it looked like a harsh breeze would blow him away.

“Not really, I mostly apply the leather handles to the hilts and make the sheaths. Hiccup and Gobber usually man the forge,” Jackson denied shaking his head. “I’m not cut out for that kind of work. It’s too hot for my tastes and I know when I don’t have a talent for something. I did attempt to make a small blade but it just revealed to me what I already knew. I, unquestionably, do not have the talent for metalwork, unlike Hiccup here. He’s a real genius at the forge.”

It was Hiccup’s turn to blush. “Well, according to the rumors going around, you’re the go-to for trades, you somehow can get ahold of things in a few hours that usually take others days or even weeks to find on Berk.”

“That’s because I have help,” Jackson answered with an enigmatic smile handing the other teenager the last piece of cutlery. The Dragon Rider took the offered knife and handed it to his father.

Stoick smiled, watching the byplay between the two teenagers as he began cutting the meat and serving it up on the plates. While he portioned out the food, the boys took the time to feed the dragons.

“From whom? No one in Berk knows where to get some of the things you get your hands on,” Hiccup took the top off a large woven basket filled to the brim with fish, Toothless eagerly waiting for it to be tipped over. “Would you open the door and call Thornado in please?”

“Sure,” the Druid agreed, opening the hut door. He needn’t have to call for the Tidal-class dragon as Thornado was already waiting on the other side and quickly lumbered in. He made a beeline towards the basket, which the auburn-haired teenager tipped over and the two dragons began to inhale their dinner with little to no chewing involved. “Ah, so people have been keeping tabs on me, have they? Trying to steal away my little helpers for themselves no doubt. They’ll be in for a rude awakening if they think I’ve got humans helping me.”

“The dragons?” Hiccup guessed, sitting down at the table while Jackson took the seat next to him.

“Well yeah, Grump has gone hunting with me. But no, I’m talking about the Wyldfae. The archipelago is teaming with wild magic and given a little compensation, the Creatures of Magic are happy to help,” the brunet eyed the large piece of meat on his plate before looking over to Hiccup’s plate with an equal size cut of venison with no small amount of trepidation.

“Wyldfae?” Stoick’s eyebrows furrowed together as he cut the enormous piece of venison on his plate.

“Yeah, here I’ll show you,” Jackson set down his knife he had been toying with and got up. Pulling out a thimble size bowl from the pouch on his belt, he looked around before picking up a wilted flower from the vase on the table. “Do you mind?”

With a shake of his head, the chief watched as the Druid crushed the flower up and place the flakes in the tiny bowl before setting it in the middle of the table.

“Usually, you have to put the offering outside in a ring of stone, but—" the brunet explained pausing to whistle out an airy melody.

Toothless perked up, ear-plates flickering every which way as he looked around the room. Landing on the stairs, acid green eyes stared into the darkness. Thornado was a little slower on the uptake, but he too focused his eyes on the staircase. His head tilted to the side, listening to whatever it was the Night Fury had already heard. Soon, Hiccup and Stoick heard it too: a soft tinkering like bell chiming. A ball of blue light hesitantly drifted down the staircase, taking cover in various nooks and crannies in the staircase before coming to a stop at the bottom. It hovered uncertainly for a split second in the open air before making a beeline towards Jackson.

“—Periwinkle and a few others make an exception for me,” the Druid said, offering the glowing light tucked between the folds of his hood an upturned hand. The ball made a sharp chime before floating onto the outstretched palm and with the utmost care, Jackson lowered his hand to the table.

“By the gods!” Stoick leaned down to get a better look as the blue light faded, revealing a small humanoid being with wings as she cautiously stepped onto the wooden surface. “It’s one of the Wee Folk. I never thought I would see the day, Valka used to tell me stories of such beings.”

“Mom knew about them?” vivid green orbs wrenched themselves away from the little white-haired humanoid with blue eyes to stare wide-eyed at his father. The man hardly ever spoke of his mother and when he did, it wasn’t much but Hiccup coveted everything he learned, treasuring the shared memories.

“Yes, she loved the tales of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, always reminding me to be careful and never make any deals with any strangers I may meet when traveling alone in the forest. She thought any Sidhe would love to capture a Viking chief for their own,” Stoick reminisced, watching as the little faerie took the crumbled-up flower out of the small wooden bowl and sniffed at it before stuffing it into a small bag which seemed to be made out of a leaf and some twine for a strap.

“Sidhe?” the auburn-haired Viking’s confusion was clear. His gaze pulled back to the little humanoid to study her. Like her small bag, her clothing was made up of trivial things he took for granted. A lovely blue flower petal was fashioned around her upper half with a few down feathers peeking out from the bottom, most likely used as a lining for the tiny being, while two leaves crafted into leggings covered her lower half. She even had tiny blue shoes made out of the same blue petals as her top.

“Consider them the nobility of the fae, aligned with one of the two courts: Seelie and Unseelie,” Jackson paused, shuttering as if remembering something awful about the Sidhe. “Wyldfae usually refers to those not affiliated with either the Seelie or Unseelie Courts and are much more friendly to deal with, like Periwinkle here and her friends. They’ve been helping me find items the villagers want.”

“In trade for what?” the chief asked as Periwinkle finished filling her bag and began wandering around the table. She stayed away from anything metal looking, which would be the knives, the axe, and the platter with the venison, everything else was free game for the curious little Wyldfae. A high pitch chime came from the Wee Folk when she found the vase was filled with water.

The brunet shook his head and smiled as he watched Periwinkle fly up to land on the lip of the vase, peering down at the water. “Nothing at the moment. They feel indebted to me for educating the children of the tribe in the proper customs of their kind and facilitating the creation of new trades.”

“Valka never mentioned offerings,” Stoick watched the little Dewdrop Faerie as she dipped a few of the crushed petals into the water and began to rub them over her skin. “What’s she doing?”

“Freshening up after spending the day in the armory; she’s trying to get rid of the smell of iron. They don’t like most metals with very few exceptions,” Jackson explained picking up the tiny wooden bowl and returning it to his pouch.

Hiccup grinned as dinner with Jackson went on without a hitch. It wasn’t going at all as horrible as he originally thought it would. As a matter of fact, it was turning out to be an enjoyable evening and with his father and the Druid busy chatting about fae, the auburn-haired Dragon Rider could discretely switch his plate of cut up venison with Jackson’s. Hopefully, now the brunet would eat something.

Chapter 19: Race to Kindle a Flame

Notes:

To Eo: You have made my week! You're the first person to catch on—or at least mention it to me—about the Dis. As for why Vadderung swiped Jack's staff and cloak, it was in regards to Hiccup's prayer. *Hint, hint*

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jack navigated his way through the village, only getting turned around twice and lost once. He considered it a win seeing as even three days after the Screaming Death’s invasion the village was still abuzz with reconstruction efforts. The Guardian helped where he could but with his arm in a sling—courtesy of Kalda, Terrorthi’s terrifying shieldmaiden of a mother—there wasn’t much he could do. Mostly, he stayed out of the Vikings’ way and kept the younger children occupied with stories and games.

Currently, he was assisting Gobber by retrieving the man's wayward apprentice from the Dragon Training Academy. The blacksmith had an influx of orders and with Jack out of commission, he was shorthanded—well, more so than usual—and needed all the help he could get. The ex-spirit was of two minds, feeling slightly guilty since it was his chores Hiccup would be filling in for. On the other hand, the extra free time allowed him the luxury to explore the wilderness of Berk and maybe, just maybe, finally find a way home.

Jack had implored the younger, more cryptic version of Mr. Vadderung—who he was still getting used to—for guidance, but the old man was a dead-end. He did promise to keep an eye out for anything to help him return to the future. The Guardian just wasn’t sure if the god would find anything seeing how Mr. Vadderung’s role was more active in this time period. Still, with the vast majority of his new Wyldfae friends actively searching and one god passively helping, Jack felt he had a better chance at getting home than he did working alone.

Knowing he was one step closer to returning to his own timeframe put the Guardian in good spirits. He didn’t even mind he’d somehow gotten himself so turned around that he’d arrived at the back of the arena instead of the entrance. Instead, Jack hummed one of Toothiana’s melodies as he walked around the wooden platform outside the arena, looking through the chain netted dome and down into the pit carved from stone. There he found all the riders and their dragons surrounding a motionless, off-colored Monstrous Nightmare.

Amber eyes immediately spotted Hiccup circling around Hookfang, clinically reading from a giant leather tome held in his hands. The detached tone had Jack’s pace slowing before ceasing altogether. Crouching down near the edge, the eternal teen hooked his staff to one of the dome’s lengths of chain for extra support as he listened to the happenings going on below.

“All right. No fire… check,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy listed, looking up from the book to the barely breathing dragon. It was then Jack realized the Vikings were examining Hookfang and wondered what was wrong with the dragon. It was obvious the Monstrous Nightmare was tired judging by his half-lidded eyes and listless state. “Pale coloration… check. Flaking scales… check.”

“See? He's fine,” Snotlout stepped forward and gestured to the dragon. Yet, his voice was small and uneasy, more like he was trying to convince himself. When his voice became even fainter, it was only thanks to the wind blowing in the ex-spirit’s direction that Jack heard the timid question. “Checks are good, right?”

Tuffnut, who had been lounging on one of the wooden walls used for the obstacle course, rolled his eyes and answered for Hiccup in his most sarcastic tone. “Totally.”

Snotlout glared at the blond Viking and Jack knew the other brunet would have said something, probably threatened Tuffnut with some kind of bodily harm, had his attention not been pulled back to the Monstrous Nightmare. Hookfang let out the most pathetic grumble the Guardian had ever heard from the usually proud dragon and scarcely managed to push himself up on to unsteady dewclaws. The dragon’s whole body trembled with the simple effort it took to crawl to his opened stall where, having used up the remaining amount of his energy, the Monstrous Nightmare flopped down on to the bedding. It didn’t appear to Jack like he would be moving again anytime soon.

“Hiccup, any one of those symptoms would not be good, but together, they’re really not good,” amber eyes were pulled back to the Vikings and Fishlegs in particular. The heavyset blond, now standing beside his leader, wrung his fur tunic between large meaty hands as he bit his bottom lip.

“So, what are you saying?” the auburn-haired teenager closed the book and turned his attention to Fishlegs while Jack’s eyebrows jumped up. He had assumed—incorrectly—as the Head of the Academy, Hiccup was the dragon expert of the group. Yet to see the teenager relying on Fishlegs more than the book in his hand had the ex-spirit reassessing the dynamics of the group.

“According to The Book of Dragons, a Monstrous Nightmare can lose its ability to generate a flame,” Fishlegs gestured to the dragon whose breathing was shallow while his tongue lolled out to the side of his maw giving Hookfang a wretched appearance.

“But why?” Astrid’s voice floated up and Jack had to lean further over the side to see the shieldmaiden standing just below him with her hand on a hip.

“Lots of reasons: old age, injury, exhaustion,” the heavyset Viking listed off on his fingers which had the Head of the Academy flipping back through the tome in his hand, searching for what, the ex-spirit could only guess. Most likely, he was looking for a cure.

“Pushed too hard by his stubborn rider,” the shieldmaiden spat.

Amber eyes narrowed onto a certain irritated Viking at Astrid’s comment. The implications of her words were not lost on Jack. He didn’t know the members of the Academy that well, but the Guardian had pegged the brawny Viking as competitive. Snotlout’s need to be the best was irritating, but Jack thought the boy was okay, if a little insecure with his lower ranking position. However, that was no reason to drive a dragon to exhaustion out of sheer pride.

“I heard that and I always work him this hard,” Snotlout waved off the accusation like it was nothing.

Jack’s hand tightened around his staff, wishing even more for his power than ever before since arriving in the past. There would have been a lot of slippery patches of ice in the brunet Viking’s near future if that were the case. Along with a lot of snowballs to the face and, as Emma Bennett would say, Jack Frost would be constantly nipping at his nose. 

“So, he's a little low on flame. What's the cure?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider demanded.

There was a pause and everyone turned to look at Fishlegs. The heavyset blond fidgeted under their combined gaze but didn’t immediately reply. Clearly, whatever he knew wasn’t going to be good news. Ruffnut, leaning against the wooden wall her brother was sitting on, grew impatient and threw a stone at the Gronckle rider to get him talking. It harmlessly bounced off his belly, but it had the intended effect.

“That's the thing with Stoker-class dragons. Once they lose their flaming ability, they become completely defenseless and…”

Jack did not like what he was hearing, especially when Fishlegs trailed off at the end. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach and the Guardian had a feeling if he had eaten this morning, his food would have made a reappearance at the inferences alone. He wasn’t the only one, most of the Vikings below lost a little color from their faces and the arena became silent.

“What are you saying, Fishlegs?” Snotlout strove to keep his voice flat and failed as his voice wavered near the end.

“I'm saying Hookfang is in trouble,” the heavyset Viking sighed sadly, glancing over at the sick dragon and back to his rider before steeling himself. “And we need to do something now.”

From his vantage point, Jack saw Snotlout throw his shoulders back and storm by the rest of the Dragon Riders. “Hookfang, don't listen to those guys.”

Reaching the sickly dragon, the Viking grabbed on to Hookfang’s horns and pulled. The exhausted dragon labored to comply with his rider yet his legs were shaky at best and the ex-spirit knew the dragon could not stand for long.

“They don't know what they're talking about. You're Hookfang. You're a warrior indestructible, like me. Right?”

Hookfang whimpered as his trembling became worse and the eternal teen had enough. “Wrong.

Swinging from his staff still hooked on to the dome, Jack dropped through the gaps in the chain netting and slid down the length of the shaft. When he reached the end, he tightened his grip and halted his descent. Shifting his weight upwards, he dislodged the crook from the chain and dropped the rest of the way down. Never once jarring the injury to his shoulder.

“Hookfang is a true warrior. You, you’re just a disgrace. Treating your friend like he doesn’t matter, just look at him,” Jack seethed, pointing his staff to the dragon who was currently laboring to breathe much less stay standing.

The Dragon Riders were stunned at the brunet’s entrance. Tuffnut fell off of his perch, failing to keep his balance and landed next to his twin. Yet, he didn’t appear to notice, wide blue eyes trained on the coiled form of Jack who appeared ready to strike. In fact, all of the members of the Academy’s attention were drawn to the Druid with his cloak billowing in a breeze which wrapped around him and amber eyes harden, almost glowing.

It took a moment for any of them to react to his sudden appearance, but unsurprisingly it was Snotlout who reacted first. Letting go of Hookfang’s horns, he took a threatening step towards Jack. Dark blue eyes met ethereal amber and it was only due to his growing rage the Viking did not look away from the abnormal color.

“What would you know?” the muscular brunet growled out, waving an intimidating fist below the taller teen’s nose. Jack didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“I know more than you could even dream of. For instance, I know as Magical Creatures of Fire, a dragon’s flame is essentially their life and Hookfang’s flame is more or less nonexistent,” the Druid batted away the fist with his staff as if it were a pesky Terrible Terror. “And I know it was your fault. Either get your act together and help Hookfang or face the consequence of your actions.

“I know what I would do and I know what a true warrior would do. What I don’t know is if it is the same as what you would do,” Jack growled out marching past a stunned Snotlout to kneel next to Hookfang. “Shh, it’s okay big guy, just lay down and rest. We’ll get you feeling better in no time. There’s no need to worry, it’s not your time to face the Cailleach.”

“He’s right you know,” Astrid said, walking up to stand beside the motionless brawny Viking. “You are a warrior, aren’t you?”

Snotlout was quiet for a moment before turning on his heels and storming out of the arena, grabbing the back of Fishlegs’ fur tunic as he went. “Come on Fishfeet, you’re going to help me find a cure. And you two!” Snotlout rounded on the twins, pointing at them. “Take care of Hookfang while I’m gone or you’ll never be pain-free again!”

“Got it,” the twins fumbled to stand up straight and saluted Snotlout. They ended up hitting each other in the face with their elbows but didn’t move with stony blue eyes glaring at them.

“You better,” he growled out and proceeded to storm out while dragging a protesting Fishlegs behind him.

“Wow, I’ve never seen anyone get under Snotlout’s skin as Jackson did,” the ex-spirit vaguely heard Astrid say to Hiccup as he tended to Hookfang. “Well, except for you.”

“Gee thanks,” the auburn-haired teenager grumbled and Jack couldn’t hold back the smile as he continued to rub circles across the Monstrous Nightmare’s scales to increase circulation.

“Uh, what are we supposed to do?” Ruffnut asked, the twins finally falling from attention and looking around, bewildered now that Snotlout wasn’t there to threaten them.

“You’re supposed to be getting me fresh well water and the strongest alcohol you can get that is not mead. Tuffnut, get some hawthorn berries, the riper the better,” the Guardian prompted as a newly resurfaced memory bubbled to the forefront of his mind: his mother teaching him the properties of plants and their uses.

“Right!” Tuffnut nodded his head and headed for the exit before doing a one-eighty. “Just one question, why?”

“Hawthorn helps regulate heart rhythm and improves blood flow from the heart. Additionally, it improves the condition of the heart muscles to help assist in healthy and regular contractions with its restorative properties,” Jack relayed the words of his mother trickling into his mind.

“Uh,” the blond Viking scratched his head and looked to his sister for help only to find her also scratching her head with the same dazed gaze on her face.

“It will keep Snotlout from thrashing you,” the brunet rolled his eyes.

“Oh, right,” the twins grinned at each other. As the words dawned on them, their faces fell and they scrambled to mount Barf and Belch. Too frantic were they that neither Ruffnut nor Tuffnut noticed they’d climbed on the wrong head and were having a little bit of a problem as they flew towards the exit.

With the twins gone, Hookfang’s strenuous breathing echoed loudly off the stone walls. The sound pulled at Jack’s being and he couldn’t ignore it. He wouldn’t ignore it. The ill magical creature would not perish on his watch, the Guardian would make sure of that. Behind him, the last two remaining Dragon Riders conversed in hush tones but he didn’t care to listen. His focus was entirely on the Monstrous Nightmare and soothing his pain.

“Jackson,” Astrid called out, having finished her whispered discussion with Hiccup. The ex-spirit didn’t turn from the dragon, but hummed in acknowledgment, feeling more than seeing the two teens coming up behind him. “Why are you here?”

“Gobber needs Hiccup’s help at the forge. Said something about the Fire of Aurvandil, Aurvandil’s Fire—something like that—was on the way and he needed all the help he could get to prepare for it. He sent me to get Hiccup. I’d like to think he would understand this is more important though,” Jack replied, eyes never leaving Hookfang. Consequently, he never noticed Astrid stiffening at his words or Hiccup throwing worried glances at the shieldmaiden.


Hiccup! We’ve found something from Bork’s Papers regarding reigniting a Stoker-class dragon's flame,” Fishlegs yelled running into the arena waving a few parchments of paper in the air. Snotlout was not far behind him, lumbering to carry an armful of papers, scrolls, and small leather journals while the Gronckle rider only held a few slips of paper. Shoving the papers into Hiccup’s hands, Fishlegs pointed to a sketch that took up the majority of the page.

The image depicted a dragon held in the palm of a hand. Its body was elongated to accompany five pairs of legs and instead of having one curved nose horn like the majority of dragons, the picture portrayed a nose horn that flared out into multiple little barbs. Tiny spines came out of the crown of the dragon’s wide head and small eyes were located near the end of its muzzle. A few notes written off to the side stated the species’ eyes glowed in the dark and their scales were dark gray while the orangish-brown skin underneath glowed white-red when heated and—in rare circumstances—they could light their bodies on fire.

“Fireworm dragons,” Hiccup instantly recognized the tiny dragons in the image having dealt with them a time or two.

“Or as Bork referred to them, ‘The Flame Eaters,’” Fishlegs whispered in awe. Awe which abruptly turned into a shriek of fear when the twins made their presence known by coming up behind the heavyset Viking and poking him in the sides without warning.

"Flame Eaters,” Tuffnut drew the name out. His face scrunching up in a thoughtful, if not pained, expression with one hand on his elbow and the other rubbing his chin. “We should be Flame Eaters.”

“Cool!” Ruffnut exclaimed spinning around and around in circles for no apparent reason. Completing her last spin, the blonde Viking punched her brother and laughed when he let out a yelp of pain. Everyone, save for Fishlegs, who stood trembling between the siblings, ignored their behavior.

“Fireworms are Stoker-class dragons too. There must be something in them that can help reignite the Monstrous Nightmare,” vivid green eyes scanned the old piece of parchment while his voice became higher and louder with each passing word. “Okay, Astrid, the twins, and I will round up as many Fireworms as we can find. Fishlegs, keep reading.”

“What about me?” Snotlout demanded, dumping the items he held on the ground in order to use both hands to gesture to himself; a lost expression on the usually confident Viking’s face.

Hiccup looked at him and after a quick decision he hoped wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass, the Head of the Academy nodded his head over at Hookfang and the Druid sitting at the dragon’s side. “You and Jackson stay with your dragon. He needs you.”

The auburn-haired Dragon Rider didn’t give the brunet Viking a chance to argue and swiftly left on the back of Toothless. The singled-out Dragon Riders followed after him while Fishlegs busied himself collecting his precious books and papers carelessly strewn about. Though, he too left loaded down by his research material to continue his search for any potential additional cures, oddly enough, Meatlug didn’t follow her rider. Instead, she stayed behind and snuggled up against Hookfang, crooning softly to soothe the sick dragon.

Jack, for his part, continued to ignore the other brunet’s presence, even when Snotlout came to stand beside him. He busied himself by awkwardly picking the rest of the berries off the whole branches the twins had brought him with his good arm, having already plucked those he needed earlier. The Guardian couldn’t have cared less about the tense silence between them or that the Viking was shifting nervously from foot to foot at his side. Jack kept telling himself this whole situation was Snotlout's fault and he deserved to feel uncomfortable.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, you know?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider broke the thickening atmosphere.

Jack glanced at the Viking out of the corner of his eye but didn’t acknowledge him past that.

The sound of the two dragons’ breathing and the ruffling of leaves as the brunet harshly yanked off the berries was all the answer Snotlout was going to get. Yet Snotlout wouldn’t allow things to rest there. He was determined to explain himself, or so it would seem as he started talking; although, who he was trying to explain his actions to—Hookfang or Jack? Or was it himself?—was a mystery.

“I was just trying to prepare him for the Outcasts and the Screaming Death,” Snotlout rubbed his chest with a clenched fist. “The others’ probably don’t remember, but I had a sibling: an older sister. She was killed during a dragon attack; died to save me, because I was too weak and useless and just stood there doing nothing. Ever since then, dad always pushed me to do better, saying that things like ‘Rest is for the Weak.’ My mom, before she succumbed to the Heart Sickness, explained it was his way of coping with the loss of my sister. It was his way of showing he cared and I… I just wanted Hookfang to be ready: to survive.”

The Guardian relented his assault on the berries and began picking them off slower with a gentle hand as the Viking spoke. Near the end, he’d discarded the branch entirely and let his hand fall uselessly to the side. Amber eyes stared at the staff resting on his lap. Reflecting on his own sister and what he’d done to keep her safe.

“I can understand that,” more than the Viking would ever know, Jack could sympathize with Snotlout. He’d done the same as Snotlout’s sister, both had given their lives for their younger siblings. “You feared for your friend’s safety and tried to better prepare him for what might come. Yet, in preparing him for what could be, you were the one to endanger him. You let your fears control you.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be afraid; everyone is afraid at some point in their lives even if they won’t admit it. It’s okay to be afraid, it’s not okay to let your fears consume you and control your life. Because, if you do, all you’ll end up doing is hurting those you care about. Control your fears, don’t let them control you.”

Snotlout gave him a strange look, but Jack pretended not to notice. Instead, he busied himself with the tincture he’d prepared from the alcohol, well water, and hawthorn berries the twins had provided. Typically, such a tincture would take weeks to set properly. Time which they didn’t have and would have to do without. The potency would be weak and the Druid prayed over the mixture to The Triple Goddess in hopes of gaining her blessing before slowly feeding Hookfang the bitter liquid.

Jack tweaked the formula to speed up the refining process by grinding the hawthorn into a thick paste while slowly adding the well water to keep the mixture moist. Once the consistency was smooth, the paste was added to the alcohol and superheated via one of Meatlug’s lava blast. The resulting tincture had an odd shimmering tint to it, yet the liquid seemed to help. Hookfang’s scales no longer flaked off at a mere touch and they didn’t appear to be getting any duller as they had been. They hadn’t brightened any either, which worried the ex-spirit.

From there, it was a waiting game for the other Dragon Riders to return. This time the atmosphere wasn’t as thick and Jack extended an olive branch—or in this case, a berry branch—to Snotlout, asking for his assistance in removing the last of the berries. In turn, the Viking requested the Druid show him how to make another tincture with the remaining ingredients. Something which the Guardian was more than happy to comply with.

It must have been an odd sight when the rest of the Academy members returned on foot, dragons trailing behind, to find the two brunets that had been at each other’s throat not long ago now working together. Wisely, no one commented on the change. Instead, they listened to Fishlegs as he instructed them to place two or so dozen Fireworms around Hookfang. They had to use iron tongs, ones Hiccup must have retrieved from the forge, to pick up the glowing dragons. By the time they placed all the Fireworms around the Monstrous Nightmare, night had fallen.

They waited around the dragon with bated breath. Jack wasn’t sure what the Fireworms were supposed to do. All he could tell was the tiny dragons glowed even brighter as the Dragon Riders placed more and more of the tiny dragons around Hookfang. Other than that, nothing seemed to happen. Hookfang didn’t spontaneously get any better, he actually looked worse in the ex-spirit’s opinion.

“Nothing,” Hiccup sighed in disappointment after they waited around for a while more, which had the muscular Viking’s shoulders slumping. Vivid green eyes immediately took notice and backtracked in an attempt to reassure Snotlout. “Well, that might not have worked, but—"

“Maybe he can drink this,” Tuffnut interrupted, shoving the auburn-haired teenager out of the way and presenting a bowl filled with some kind of liquid. Though, what really drew Jack’s attention was the bandages covering all of the Hideous Zippleback rider’s fingers that definitely had not been there before.

“W—what…what is that?” the Head of the Dragon Academy stumbled, looking over the taller Viking’s shoulders and down into the bowl.

“Fireworm milk,” Ruffnut proclaimed proudly, crossing her arms over her puffed out chest.

"Fireworm milk?" Astrid echoed, looking towards Fishlegs for confirmation.

The heavyset Viking grimaced and held up a finger. “Um… Tuffnut, I don't think you can actually milk a Fireworm?”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” Tuffnut angrily waved one of his bandaged covered hands at the husky Viking. “Where were you three hours ago?”

“Maybe we need to put the Fireworms on Hookfang, so he can absorb their heat directly,” Hiccup suggested in an attempt to redirect the growing nervous energy into a more productive outlet. Such as, saving the sickly Monstrous Nightmare lying at their feet.

Snotlout’s face brightened at the recommendation—having gone grey with their failed attempts to save Hookfang—and latched on to Hiccup, shaking him by the shoulders on impulse. “Yeah. Yeah, good idea, Hiccup. Direct heat that makes sense. Well, what are you waiting for?”

Grabbing the metal tongs again, the broad-shouldered teenager picked up the nearest tiny dragon and placed it on top of Hookfang. Looking to Hiccup, the other Dragon Riders followed suit when he gave them a small nod. Soon, little flames started to appear on the Monstrous Nightmare’s body where the Fireworms rested, resembling the flames Hookfang usually produced on his own.

“It's working,” Snotlout exclaimed excitedly as it appeared the dragon’s scales began to brighten from their dull state. No sooner had the words left his mouth than the flames flickered and gave out. The little color Hookfang's scales regain quickly bleed out, which had blue eyes frantically looking around for more of the tiny dragons where none were to be found. “We need more Fireworms now! You hear me? More Fireworms!”

“Snotlout, I think we've rounded up all the Fireworms on Berk,” Astrid regrettably informed the frantic Viking, walking closer yet she didn’t dare touch the brunet.

Not liking how Snotlout was folding into himself or sealing himself off from the rest of the Dragon Riders, Jack spoke up. “What about their own island? Finn mentioned something about it once, why don’t you get more Fireworms from there?”

“Fireworm Island!” Ruffnut cheered, holding up a pair of metal tongs with a tiny dragon desperately fighting for freedom.

“Fireworm Island? Is there even such a place?” Fishlegs asked, looking around the group and landing on Hiccup and Astrid who were both nodding their heads.

“But how would we find this island? It is almost dark and Hookfang isn’t getting any better!” Snotlout gestured wildly to the grunting dragon whose eyes were closed but he didn’t appear to be sleeping.

“With a little help from some friends,” Jack reassured the Viking, laying a hand on the teenager’s tense shoulder. He then pursed his lips together and let out a harmonious whistle. The wind seemingly amplified the sound and only a beat passed between the whistling ending and a bright light buzzing overhead.

“Periwinkle?” the auburn-haired teenager guessed, trying to catch sight of the ball of light.

“No, but one of her friends, Fawn knows almost all the migration patterns of animals and their natural habitats. Although, she will need a little incentive,” the brunet looked to the sky for the Wyldfae.

“We’ll pay the tribute,” Hiccup assured.

Jack eyed him before giving him a brisk nod.

Another whistle, this one slightly different than the one he used to summon Periwinkle, and a blur darted through the arena. It dashed around the ex-spirit leaving behind a trail of burnt orange before landing in brown hair. Amber eyes met a tiny pair of amber eyes a few shades darker than his own which belonged to a slender little figure sporting an orange dress made out of a Tiger Lily with brown twine for a belt and a green anklet. Her long light brown hair was done up in a high braid and her fair skin showed off light freckles.

“What’s that?” Astrid’s awe-filled gasp echoed throughout the area as she attempted to get a better look at the faint glowing light in Jack’s hair.

“That is a her and she is going to lead us to Fireworm Island,” the Head of the Dragon Academy grinned, knowing he had the very same look on his face days prior when he had been introduced to Periwinkle.

Astrid and Fishlegs, closest to Jack, leaned closer in an attempt to get a better look at the little figure. Fawn, upon noticing all the attention on her, dove back into locks of brown hair, releasing tiny, distressed chimes.

“What the? Is that?” the shieldmaiden's voice rose when she caught sight of wings on the back of the creature when they gave an agitated flutter.

“A Wyldfae!” Tuffnut cheered.

“A Pixie!” Ruffnut cheered at the same time. The twins rounded on each other and glared, arguing back and forth about if it was a pixie or a Wyldfae.

“This is Fawn, a Wyldfae of Pixie Hollow,” Jack put an end to the argument by introducing the little fae in his hair. “She specializes in animals and can lead us to Fireworm Island, can’t ya?”

The little Dewdrop Faerie leapt from his hair and flew around his head. Chimes came from the tiny ball of light blistering with energy before she took off. Flying out the exit, Fawn returned only a moment later, bobbing up and down impatiently, wanting them to follow.

“She seems to be in a hurry, we better get going,” Jack said as a high pitch ring caused the humans and dragons alike to flinch at the sound. “So, who am I going to be flying with?”

Astrid took a step forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Yeah, you came with us to Dragon Island, but that was just supposed to be a simple training mission. And you did help with the Screaming Death, but again that was beyond our control. You aren’t trained for this; we have been training for the last few years. It would be best if you stayed here on Berk, where it's safe.”

Jack was floored. He didn’t know how to react. His first instinct was to laugh in the little girl’s face at her years of training when he had centuries of experience under him. The only reason they’d gotten out of the situations mentioned was because of his assistance. Which led him to his second reaction that was coming through more prevalent than his usual upbeat self, he was pissed.

Before he could open his mouth to let loose his growing anger, Astrid shot Hiccup a hard look which had the Head of the Academy stepping up with a glance back at the shieldmaiden. “She’s right Jackson, we know what we’re getting in to. You don’t. You haven’t been trained like we have. Besides, you’re hurt; it would be for the best if you stayed here.”

The Guardian knew if his staff was an ordinary piece of wood, it would have broken under his white-knuckled grip. As it was, the gnarled wood bit through his arm warmer and scraped at his palm, reminding him where he was.

“Fine,” the brunet growled, turning his back on Hiccup, storming away. He would have marched right out of the Academy without another word. However, he stopped just short of the softly chiming ball of burnt orange light and turned towards Snotlout as a thought hit him. “Look after Fawn for me. I need someone too.”

Notes:

After having all the good feels on the last chapter, I feel bad about what I did in this chapter. I blame Astrid, since blaming Hiccup would grow real old, real soon because he keeps sticking his foot in his mouth when it comes to Jack.

Chapter 20: A Dream Filled Night, a Dreamless Day

Notes:

I HAVE OVER 100 REVIEWS!

All of you rock! Thank you for keeping with me and I hope you stay to the end.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Only a few feet outside of the arena, Jack broke into a flat out run. He wasn’t running towards the village though. He was running away from the village; away from everything. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t care, he just wanted to be gone. He wanted to go home; he wanted to be back in Burgess with the Seven Brightest Lights and the other Guardians. He wanted to be able to fly with the winds, to bring winter with a simple touch. Here on Berk, he could do none of that.

Here on Berk, he was useless. He wasn’t Jack Frost, he was Jackson Overland, an incompetent teenager living in a village full of Vikings. He wasn’t lying to Stoick when he said he had multiple jobs when he was alive, he just didn’t point out that it was because people tended to foster him off on others. They didn’t want him around, only using him for an extra set of hands when they absolutely needed the help and no one else was available before sending him off when the job was done.

That was the real reason he hadn’t a skill set of his own. Back when Burgess was known as Hawthorne, no one wanted to take the time to teach him, to be his mentor. Apparently, he—and his mother—unnerved them and there were whispered words of warning spoken behind his back. Some of the warnings he knew were true and well deserved—he was a trickster at heart—while the remaining were spiteful words of witchcraft and black magic. The settlers’ children, on the other hand, didn’t hold their parents’ beliefs and were happy to have him around.

Jack was forced to slow as his lungs screamed at him and his vision began to darken around the edges due to a lack of oxygen. He finally stopped in a thicket surrounded by trees and large boulders. Not too far from him, he could hear the trickle of a stream or river and there were birds overhead chirping. But he didn’t care. The brunet just slid down to the ground, the end of his staff digging in the muddy soil and he could already feel the cold seeping into his body as his clothes soaked up the moisture.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” the immortal teenager asked in English—finding comfort in speaking in the language no one else understood—as he gazed down at the ground. “Father always said I was a heathen. That I was going to hell and I believed it too. But this? This is worse.

“Haven’t I paid enough penance? I was stripped of my memories for three hundred years and forced to live alone. I was just getting settled into my new life—afterlife—whatever hell this existence is and then all this? Please, please, I just want to go home. Please take me home,” Jack threw his head back, begging Manny, the White Goddess, magic, anyone who would listen and grant him a reprieve.

Birds flew out of the trees and a few smaller dragons fled the area at the heart-wrenching sound, yet the ex-spirit took no notice. He continued to scream out all of his pent-up feelings until his voice went hoarse and his throat felt like sandpaper. Jack would have continued to yell yet he was spent. Instead, he curled into a ball and just sat there, an arm hooked around his staff while his wounded shoulder throbbed in pain.

The immortal teenager allowed his mind to go blank. Maybe if he sat there long enough, he wouldn’t have to deal with everything. He wouldn’t have to deal with anything. Jack had every intention of sitting there until his problems disappeared. Or maybe, he’d disappear.

The winds had other ideas and wouldn’t let him rest. They kept hassling him, circling him, and brushing through his hair. When that didn’t get a reaction, the winds started pulling at his clothing insistently. Yet even then, Jack didn’t respond. He’d buried himself too far within his own mind to feel. It took a huge gust of chilled wind blasting straight into his face to bring the brunet out of his mind.

Dazed amber eyes looked around; blinking a few times when he noticed it was well-passed twilight. Time had slipped by without his consent. When he breathed out, a cloud formed in front of him and he shivered at the drop-in temperature. Yet, the stillness of the forest had a different kind of shiver going up his spine and it had nothing to do with the cold. The only sound to reach his ears was that of the babbling stream and the winds blowing agitatedly through the trees.

Something wasn’t right.

The Guardian couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a feeling there was something wrong. Standing up, Jack turned in circles in to spot anything amiss. He came up empty. There wasn’t anything blaringly out of place. Nothing to explain the uneasiness he felt, which only put him further on edge.

Manny could only give him so much light as a small crescent in the sky and his eyes couldn’t make out anything strange in the night. However, the darkness which clung to certain areas had a chill of fear seeping into his body. The memory of Pitch confining him in the tainted Dreamsand on Easter of 2012 jumped to the forefront of his mind. His grip on his staff tightened to a degree.

Taking a step back, the Guardian felt something twist around his ankle. He didn’t even have time to look down before his foot was yanked out from under him. He stumbled forward, shoving his staff in the ground to keep upright. Panic spiked when he realized whatever had wrapped around him was tugging him down.

Something had him.

Eyes strained against the darkness and what he found proved the horror movie cliché of being alone in the forest after sunset was not good for anyone’s—mainly his—health. For there, clutching his ankle with sharp claw-like fingers was a wraith-like pitch black hand protruding out of the ground.

Even as he watched, another hand came up through the same small hole its mate occupied and braced itself on the ground, pushing up. Jack feverishly tugged his foot in a frantic attempt to free himself but the wraith hand would not let up. His struggles increased when he saw the head and torso of the creature push its way out of the rabbit-size hole, which should have been impossible since the thing was twice as big as the ex-spirit.

“I thought I got rid of all of you,” Jack growled pulling his staff up and slashing at the Dream Pirate’s hand holding him in place. The wood connected and freed his ankle, but the immortal teenager was sent tumbling backwards, landing on his bandaged shoulder, rendering him breathless. He didn’t have time to catch his breath, already rolling over and out of the way of sharp claws. The muddy ground made it difficult for Jack to get his feet under him, but he somehow managed and was running before the Dream Pirate could pull himself out of the hole completely.

The Guardian worked to tug the sling off of his arm as he put some distance between him and the shadowy creature, knowing he would need both hands. Once free of the sling he traded hands with his staff, ignoring the twinge which accompanied the action, and used his free hand to dig in his leg pouch.

“Hell no!” Jack cursed when he came up empty-handed. He could have hit himself for forgetting he’d used up the rest of the folded sunshine during the Screaming Death incident and put off making more until his arm healed. “Just my luck. Now what am I going to do?”

The choice was made for him when something tackled him. Together, the Guardian and the Dream Pirate tumbled down a small hill and into a stream. Turning his fall into a controlled roll, Jack skidded to a stop and sprang to his feet, facing the creature. The ex-spirit didn’t let his eyes leave the Dream Pirate regardless of the water seeping through his boots and his water-soaked cloak weighing him down, chilling him to the bone. In turn, the Dream Pirate’s glowing eyes didn’t stray either.

Although, now that he was no longer running from the creature, he was able to see the Dream Pirate hadn’t come out of their last encounter completely unscathed. The shadowy body was ragged with patches missing—allowing Jack to see straight through to the bank—and was hunched to one side, missing a part of its leg. However, what really grossed the immortal teen out was the black gunk dripping from the creature’s body and into the stream, tainting the water.

To Jack’s dismay, the Dream Pirate grabbed its side and drew a terrifying saber from a previously hidden sheath. Granted, when a creature was completely made up of darkness sans glowing eyes, one could never tell what was clothing and what was part of their bodies. It also made it difficult for him to tell if the creature had any more weapons on him, which was a hazard to the brunet’s health. More weapons would be bad, very bad.

“Bring it,” the Guardian snarled, swapping hands with his staff yet again and launching himself at the creature. The Dream Pirate had enough time to bring up his saber to block the blow to the head from the staff, but it wasn’t expecting the brunet’s kick to its side and was forced a couple of steps back.

The immortal teen didn’t give it time to recover and used the crook of his staff to jab the creature in the stomach. He hadn’t accounted for the wraith to grab hold of said staff and yank him closer and within reach of the saber. Jack ducked down—feeling the blade skim over the back of his head and saw a few strands of brown hair drift to the ground—and put all his weight on the staff forcing the Dream Pirate to let go or lose its footing. It let go, not being able to afford the loss of its upper hand, causing Jack to fall face first into the stream.

Jack was already rolling out of the way of the downwards strike, the blade slashing through the water and embedding itself a quarter of an inch into the rocks below. A swipe to the Dream Pirate’s feet with his staff had the creature toppling over while the brunet scrambled on to his feet in time to dodge yet another slashing blade. Looking back at the Dream Pirate getting up from the stream, Jack eyed the second creature in front of him.

“Now this, this is not a fair fight. Two against one and I’m injured at that,” the Guardian complained, jumping out of the way of a saber and ducking under another one. “I couldn’t beat one of them and now there are two. I need help here. Or light, light would be much better. I could beat them on my own with some light and wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else. I really need–

Liget,” the unfamiliar word passed through his lips and light seared out from the pouch at his leg.

He was so shocked that he failed to notice the two Dream Pirates closing in on him from either direction as he gawked at the beams pouring out and without conscious thought, he found himself reaching for it. The intensity of the light wasn’t much when looking straight on, but it was bright enough to illuminate the whole stream and to eat away at the Dream Pirates. Amber eyes looked up in time to see a saber a hair’s breadth away from his nose before the light dissolved the weapon and its owner.

“Wow,” Jack whispered before a wave of dizziness hit him and he fell back into the stream.


When Jack came to, he was laying at the edge of a pond, clearly not in the same place as he had been before he passed out. His clothes, which had been filthy and drenched were miraculously clean and warm despite the crisp fresh morning air that could chill even the burliest of Vikings on Berk. Taking in the rest of his surroundings, the brunet determined he had no clue where the hell he was and put his arm down to push himself up. He stopped halfway through the motion to stare at his arm.

“We healed it for you,” a voice called out and Jack would not admit to the yelp which came from him as his head whipped towards the pond. Scanning the area with a critical eye, he saw nothing in the tree lines but movement in the water caught his attention. Creeping closer, amber eyes were cautious as he leaned over and stared down at a distorted yet obvious face beneath the surface.

“Uh, thank you?”

Jack knew he was disremembering something which would put this whole surreal situation into context. He knew it had to be from his mortal life—the first go around—since he only felt this way when it came to his repressed memories. Trying to force the memories only resulted in piercing headaches, something he had learned from experience and wasn’t going to repeat. The immortal teenager knew not to be scared, but the rest of the memory was out of reach. As it was, without the memory, the ex-spirit was very confused.

“It is we who should be thanking you for getting rid of those foul creatures polluting our waters,” the reflection voiced. “Many of our siblings have been holding them in their grasps for years, becoming cold and solid to contain which could not be destroyed and yet, you were able to rid them from our waters.”

It didn’t take Jack long to figure out the face was talking about the previously frozen Nightmare Galleon. “Doesn’t seem like I got all of them.”

“Not all, yes. Some still roam free but they are few and weak. We Vilia are now many and strong with our siblings returned to us, no longer confined to their cold solid state. We can hold them off until you can reach our waters and banish them,” as the being spoke, the waters beside it shimmered, showing images of the Villia’s first encounter with the Dream Pirates before changing to show the Nightmare Galleon being frozen by countless of the same beings as the one in front of him.

“You’re Vilia, spirits of brooks and streams,” the memory finally floated to the surface, his face lighting up at encountering another Creature of Magic. His mom told him the Vilia were benevolent in nature and had healing abilities far superior to that of any sorcerer. “Wait, what do you mean by having me get rid of them? I don’t even know how I did it the last two times! It was all just luck! Besides, I don’t have any real talent for magic.

“Magic has touched you, magic has chosen you, magic is not wrong; you are wrong, Child Not of this Time,” the Vilia stated as the wind picked up and started to gust around Jack, ruffling his hair and keeping him from falling into the pond when he leaned closer to see the watery face.

“How do you know that? How do you know I’m not of this time? Do you know how I can get home?” Jack asked in rapid succession, desperately hoping the Magical Creature of Water knew how to return him home.

“We know of you, Child Not of this Time. You were brought here for a reason,” the Vilia spoke as new voices joined in and new faces appeared in the water, all focusing on him.

“I already know that,” the teenager cried out in frustration. “But for what purpose? What do I need to do in order to get home?”

“You will find your home, Child Not of this Time,” the Vilia spoke as one. “Be prepared for what the future holds. We will aid you, if you so wish, we owe you a debt for freeing our solid siblings from the cold and dispelling the Creatures Not of this World. Just call for us, and we will help.”

The faces started to become distorted in the water and dissolved back into the pond.

“Wait, I have more questions,” Jack yelled, but it was too late. The Vilia were gone and he was left sitting on his knees at the pond’s shoreline. Shaking his head, the ex-spirit stood up and looked around. There was a small opening in the treetops, allowing him to see the sky and the sun halfway to its zenith. Up in the trees, there were a few nests and he could hear the tiny chirps of the hatchlings inside. All in all, Jack still didn’t have a clue where he was.

“I would settle for how to get back to Berk at the moment,” the Guardian grumbled drily.

Examining the area one last time, Jack shrugged his shoulders in indifference, not at all bothered by being lost. He was actually not sure if he wanted to go back to Berk. In fact, he decided he was content with being lost. Jack had survived alone for three hundred years as a spirit. He could survive in a forest with no problem.

Pulling the sling dangling uselessly from his neck off, the ex-spirit untied the knot and sloppily folded the material before shoving it into his leg pouch. His hand froze in the pocket before rummaging around and pulling out everything from inside. Once everything was scattered about in front of him, amber eyes began looking for what might have caused the light earlier. The items he disregarded were placed back into the pouch and soon there was nothing left save for a small light brown leather bag tied closed with a strip of white cloth.

Holding it up, Jack inspected it trying to remember where it had come from. Amber eyes widened as the memory of Finn thrusting the little leather bag into his hands before pushing him out the door to follow Gobber to the village assaulted him. The hunter had told him it was all he could salvage of the immortal teenager’s clothing as he placed the bag into smaller hands. Jack had only been able to tuck it into his pouch before running after the retreating blacksmith or risk being left behind and hadn’t thought about it since.

Now, though, as he held it in his hands once again, the Guardian could tell it wasn’t empty as he had originally thought. Untying the strip of cloth, he held it up and felt his eyes become watery when he recognized it as being a part of the cuff of the shirt his sister had sewn for him centuries ago. The leather came from his pants judging by its worn state. Dumping the contents out into his palm, a small clear crystal the size of his little finger with wire wrapped around its length connected it to a leather cord—not unlike those currently wrapped around his legs—landed in the center of his hand.

He first assumed the contents were something Finn had left for him, that was before he had seen the crystal. Jack gulped as he held it up to the light in between his fingers. The crystal was his—well, it was his mother’s really; she had given it to him for safekeeping—and a large part of his heritage. After all, it was taken from the Crystal Cave by Taliesin himself and passed down from one clan leader to the next until his great-grandfather had given the crystal to his mother. Last, he had seen of the crystal was the morning he tucked it under his shirt before taking his sister out ice skating.

Where and how Finn had found the crystal, Jack did not know but he would forever be grateful. It was one more piece of his heritage the Druid thought he would never have back. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he reached out and tied the cord around the base of his staff’s hook. This way the crystal was always in sight and he would never lose it again.

Smiling weakly, Jack looked up into the sky at the beautiful day and knew today wasn’t a day to dwell on the past. “Might as well enjoy the day and have some fun.”

Rotating his now healed shoulder and eyeing the trees and rocks on the other side of the pond, a giant grin spread across his face. The wind blew gently, picking up leaves and twirling them around the clearing. His smile grew as he watched the leaves bop and pirouette across the water’s surface. They were then caught up in a whirlwind and pulled up into the treetops to disappear into the heavens.

“You wanna race?” the ex-spirit asked the winds when they were finished with their show. The clearing was motionless for a moment after which the winds whipped around him, cuddling up to him before racing over the pond, ruffling the tree leaves on the other side as if it was waiting for him. His cloak whipped in the breeze, pulling him towards the opposite side of the pond. The Guardian of Fun laughed and flipped his staff up into the air.

He caught it near the newly attached crystal and held it parallel to the ground. Taking a few steps back, he ran towards the pond and jammed the end of the shaft into the water, vaulting over the pond. For a moment, it didn’t look like he was going to make it to the other side. Yet a strong gale caught him and pushed him forward, his boots sinking into the mud. Nevertheless, he cleared the pond.

“Nice,” Jack grinned and then took off running after the winds that stayed just a step ahead of him. Even as he vaulted off rocks and swung through the trees, the winds kept their pace, leading him through trees and across rocky ravines. He zigged and zagged, not knowing where he was going and not caring. It was like he was back in the future, allowing the winds to lead him on a never-ending adventure.

Suddenly the winds rounded about and blew back on him, forcing him to break his stride as he skidded out of the foliage and into the open. The hook of his staff caught a branch and jerked him to a halt, his foot dangling over the edge as the crystal jingled against the wood.

“Whoa,” the brunet exhaled, looking straight down at the giant waves crashing against jagged rocks below. Pushing his stomach—that was suddenly in his throat—back down to calm his racing heart, Jack pulled himself back so he wasn’t practically falling off the cliff edge. A glance to the side had him spotting a familiar landmark across the way. “Hey, I know where we are!”

A soft breeze ruffled his clothes and swirled around him curiously. Understanding the noiseless inquiry, the brunet pointed towards the cape opposite to them.

“See that overhang there, that’s where I went fishing after meeting Hiccup and Toothless for the first time,” which meant he was a long way away from the village. How the Vilia had transported him all the way out here, he couldn’t fathom yet it didn’t concern him in the least. It was nice up here and Jack found himself sitting down on the ledge and looking out at sea. He thought about fishing, just for something to do, but he knew he was too high up and the violent waves below would yield nothing. Instead, he sat there with the winds dancing and playing before him.

Jack didn’t know how long he sat there. It could have been hours or minutes and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. As an immortal, time held little meaning for him and with him zipping across the world with the help of the winds, day and night had little meaning. Having become human again had helped reestablish some awareness of the passage of time but sometimes the concept eluded him. He only jerked out of his absentminded state when a cry from below had him looking down. A blaze of flames weaved dangerously close to the rock face and water’s surface before skyrocketing straight up: right at him.

He didn’t have time to move before the large ball of flames blasted past him, close enough for the intense heat to irritate his face. The flames came to an abrupt halt as giant wings expanded and flapped repeatedly to keep in place. The ex-spirit was forced to bring up his arm to shield his eyes from the dry gust of heat lapping at his face.

“Hookfang!” a shout of terror mixed with anger and a hint of relief echoed off the rocks, causing Jack to lower his arm. To his relief, the heat died down and the gust became bearable, if a little on the warm side. He was glad to see the dying blaze of fire was indeed a fully recovered Monstrous Nightmare hovering before him with Snotlout semi-secured on his back.

Hookfang?!” the Viking screeched again, pulling on the dragon’s horns, either in an attempt to turn them around or to righten his position in the saddle. Either way, Hookfang was having none of that and buckled, making the Dragon Rider flatten himself on the dragon’s long neck or risk being thrown. “What is wrong with you? You need to take it easy! And that last stunt almost had us losing Fawn!”

“I’m sure she could have taken care of herself, what with wings and all,” Jack commented dryly, eyeing the ball of light buzzing over Snotlout’s head.

“What? Hn? Gah,” Snotlout instantly sat up straight, one hand pulling the little ball of light into the folds of his bearskin cloak to hide Fawn while his other hand pulled a bludgeon from his saddlebag. A smile spread across the Guardian’s face at the Viking’s reaction, glad he hadn’t misplaced his trust in the burly brunet by entrusting him with the Wyldfae’s safety. “Who said that? Who’s there?”

“Relax Snotlout, it’s just me,” Jack stood up and stretched out, feeling his limbs popping from sitting for a prolonged period of time.

“Jackson? What are you doing all the way out here?” the Viking’s voice hitched as he lowered the bludgeon and allowed Fawn to dart out from the safety of his cloak. The little Dewdrop Faerie let out a thrill as she zipped over to Jack and settled on the top of his staff, happily chiming away.

“Nothing much,” the immortal teenager shrugged his shoulders, glancing at Fawn who had gone silent and was peering down at the crystal hanging below her, entranced by the magic radiating from it. Shaking his head, Jack moved to the side and Hookfang took the silent invitation, landing in the now free space hardly big enough for the Monstrous Nightmare yet he somehow managed it. “I see Hookfang is back to normal.”

The dragon let loose an earsplitting roar, flames erupting from his mouth and up in the air in a magnificent display. He then lowered his head and nudged the Guardian. However, since he was used to pushing a much heavier Viking around, the small prod sent Jack stumbling back and almost off the edge for the second time that day. Thankfully, the winds were there to push him forward and away from the ledge.

Fawn jumped into action and zoomed around the dragon, barraging him with reprimanding chimes and high pitch peals.

“Hey, hey; that’s enough, he didn’t mean anything by it,” the teenager attempted to sooth both dragon and fae alike. Hookfang had the decency to lower his head in shame and gave a small whimper for good measure which had Jack reaching out, patting the dragon’s giant muzzle. The winds were also appeased by the Monstrous Nightmare’s apology because they died down as well. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, amber eyes looked skywards before he turned his attention to the dismounting Dragon Rider. “So, I take it last night’s quest went well?”

“Oh yeah, if by well you mean almost getting eaten by the Fireworm Queen,” Snotlout snorted and the ex-spirit was surprised to hear no arrogance in his voice. “It’s only thanks to Hookfang and this little warrior here that we managed to survive.”

“This I got to hear,” the edges of Jack’s lips twitched upwards as the Viking shifted from foot to foot looking anywhere but at him. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“You really want to know?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider finally looked at him and amber eyes couldn’t miss the insecurity hidden in those dark blue eyes.

The Guardian in him wondered just how many people actually paid attention to Snotlout. He was the son of the chief’s right-hand man, but his own father only seemed to have enough time to berate the boy and push him to be the best from what the immortal teen could tell. If anything, Jack understood why the Viking was so standoffish yet felt the need to be the center of attention. With an absentee father at best and a mother and sister who had died at a young age, Snotlout must not have wanted to be alone.

Yet the Viking was afraid to get close to anyone in case he would lose them too. The other Dragon Riders didn’t help by discounting the burly brunet at the best of times and ignoring him at the worst. Jack was going to help in the best way he knew how. As Mr. Vadderung had once done for him when he had felt alone in the world and just needed someone to be there for him, he would listen.

“Only as long as I can tell it to the children later, they would love to hear such a story,” the taller brunet nodded, the corner of his lip upturned.

“Well take a seat and I’ll tell you!” Snotlout’s boastfulness was back, but the Guardian didn’t care. He could now see it for what it really was, a shield to protect himself.

Looking around for a place to sit on the overcrowded edge, Jack settled on a low hanging branch. It didn’t take much effort to swing up and straddle the limb, the tips of his boots scraping across the ground. When he turned back around, he saw Snotlout had made himself comfortable on a toppled tree and was rummaging through the saddlebag he had taken off of Hookfang. Said dragon was lying between them, chomping down on what looked like a piece of chicken with Fawn sitting on his horn delicately eating a decent size berry.

“Here,” was all the warning Jack got as something was flung in his direction. The ex-spirit was glad he was holding his staff in the opposite hand or else he wouldn’t have been able to grab the charred fish by the tail in time. He was actually quite impressed with the Viking’s aim. The fish would have hit him squarely in his face if he hadn’t of caught it and that took some real skill to throw a fish with such accuracy.

His stomach growled when he looked at the fish in his hand and Jack had the decency to blush; he had forgotten to eat, again. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Snotlout shrugged, teeth tearing into his own blackened cod.

Jack looked down at his food before hooking his staff on his leg to keep it from falling and pulled a dagger out of his boot with his now free hand. The charred scales were easy enough to work off with the blade, exposing the meat underneath which he sunk his teeth into. Amber eyes widened as flavor filled his mouth.

The immortal teenager had gotten used to the tough and tasteless meals the Vikings made and Gobber forced him to eat. However, that wasn’t to say he enjoyed the fish. He couldn’t even say the food was good since the main, overwhelming flavor he tasted was due to the fish being burnt and nothing else. Despite all of this Jack could say the food tasted better than anything he’d been served in the Great Hall.

“So, tell me how things went after I left,” the ex-spirit looked down at Snotlout after taking another bite of his fish.

Notes:

Yeah, so, Hookfang is better and Snotlout and Jack are becoming friends since Hiccup pushed him away to keep him safe. Too bad for Hiccup, Jack found trouble because he was pushed away. Damn those Dream Pirates. Thankfully, the Guardian can take care of himself.

Chapter 21: Fright in the Darkness

Notes:

Happy readers like the buildup and character development, it was a little difficult since I wasn't sure if I wanted Jack and Snotlout to be at each other’s throat or friends. I decided to do a little of both, have them dislike each other at the beginning and then become friends.

Chapter Text

Hiccup had been utterly and completely exhausted for days. With Gothi's prediction of Aurvandil's Fire arrival within the week on the eve of restoring Hookfang’s blaze, he hadn’t gotten time to rest. For when the florescent colored lights of Aurvandil’s Fire appeared, the Flightmare—one of the few dragons no Viking on Berk had ever managed to kill—was soon to follow.

Many Vikings had taken on the dragon; all had failed. Some lost their pride while others lost their lives. The last Viking to go against the Flightmare had been Fearless Finn Hofferson. After the encounter—because it couldn’t be called a fight—his nickname had quickly changed to Frozen Finn Hofferson.

With nothing able to stand up against the Flightmare, the chief and his council declared the village to be on lockdown whenever Aurvandil’s Fire burned across the sky. This time was no different and Stoick had responded to Gothi’s prediction by prepping the village for the worst. The Great Hall was being reinforced, supplies were stockpiled, and huts fortified.

Hiccup had been placed in charge of fortifying the Haddocks’ hut; since, as the chief, his father didn’t have the time. He barely had the time himself with Spitelout sending the Dragon Riders into the forest to retrieve trees for additional lumber. Not to mention, Gobber had him forging much-needed nails whenever he had a free moment. To top it off, he was working with Fishlegs to track the very dragon that was causing all the chaos while keeping Astrid from killing anyone.

The Head of the Dragon Academy had thanked Thor, the twins were actually helping—or at the very least, staying out of trouble—since no one came to him complaining about their particular brand of behavior in the last few days. Hiccup didn’t think he could deal with it if anyone had. He did, however, have to deal with an irate dragon. Toothless was mad at him for neglecting their evening flights.

Hiccup did have to admit, even when mad at him, Toothless was ever loyal. The dragon stayed near—not too close, but close enough—and would begrudgingly assist him whenever he needed it. Toothless even kept him from toppling over the other night when Hiccup was stumbling out of the armory after spending too many hours working at the forge. The Night Fury even carried him home after it became apparent he was too exhausted to walk.

Thankfully, when he had woken up this morning, Toothless was waiting for him for the first time in days. Hiccup took this to mean the dragon was no longer holding a grudge and felt relieved. Regardless, he felt horrible for neglecting the Night Fury. To make it up to him, the auburn-haired teenager pulled on his flight harness. The sight alone had Toothless bouncing around ecstatically and spurring Hiccup on to the Night Fury's back.  Hastily, he clipped the harness to the saddle and took off before the ruckus Toothless was making could wake his father.

The flight wasn’t nearly as long as Toothless would have preferred, but the Dragon Rider more than made up for it with the numerous different stunts he was only willing to pull when no one else was around. The dragon loved every minute of it. Heck, Hiccup loved every minute of it. Flying with Toothless allowed him to get away from all the stress and the obligations he was under. 

In the sky, it was just him and Toothless. There was nothing holding him down. Just the winds whipping through his hair, washing away the accumulated weight of the past few days. The longer they stayed up there, the lighter Hiccup felt. Sadly, the lightness he attained was fleeting and gravity asserted itself as the Night Fury duo landed. Fishlegs was waiting for him.

Fretfully, the heavyset Viking yanked him to the arena without preamble. When they arrived, Hiccup could see what had the Gronckle rider so worked up. The place was trashed. Weapons were sewn across the grounds and even more embedded in the stone walls. The wooden boxes—where the Academy stored their supplies—were upturned and their contents thrown everywhere or missing all together. As for the barrels used for target practice, they were either impaled with a number of weapons or reduced to splinters and metal rings.

Any other time, Hiccup would have attributed the chaos to the twins. He would have already been halfway to the Thorstons' hut, demanding an explanation, or, at the very least, forcing them to clean up their mess. However, it was clear neither Ruffnut nor Tuffnut were the culprits. Not with Astrid standing in the middle of the mess, battle axe in hand as she tore her way through the last barrels still standing.

Chopping one in half, the shieldmaiden yanked her axe back before pivoting on the ball of her foot to attack a second barrel situated behind her. All the while, Astrid was screaming her frustrations with such vigor it had Fishlegs’s legs knocking together.  He wasn't the only one affected either. The Head of the Dragon Academy had to admit, he too was frightened.

“You want some of this?! That's right! Who's next?!” the rampaging shieldmaiden shouted when the barrel, she had been hacking away at, gave up the ghost under the anger of her final swing.

“I-I'm pretty sure that. Yep, I think you got them. All of them.” Hiccup spoke, hoping to save some of their training gear. If there was anything left of it. In spite of his standing as the chief’s son, the Dragon Training Academy didn’t have unlimited funds and a lot of their supplies and equipment came from Hiccup. Not that the Academy members knew and he wanted to keep it that way. However, if Astrid succeeded in destroying all their equipment, there was no way he could replace everything, not for some time.

“Astrid's been killing inanimate objects all morning,” the heavyset Viking whispered quietly, trying to hide The Book of Dragons behind him in case the blonde decided it would make a good target.

“She's really wound up about the Flightmare,” Hiccup remarked low enough that Astrid—who had gone back to pulverizing their equipment after a withering glare was thrown his way—wouldn’t hear. He really needn’t bother, anyone with eyes and a brain knew of Astrid’s hatred for the Flightmare for disgracing her family’s name. She hated the dragon for shaming her uncle so badly that he was driven out of the village.

“Too bad she's wasting her time,” Snotlout scoffed from where he was leaning against the entrance's wall. “When the Flightmare comes, the Hoffersons freeze. Right, Astrid? I mean, you are a—”

He was halfway through his sentence when Astrid's axe embedded itself into the stone wall just inches from the Jorgenson’s head. Instincts had the brunet reeling back at the perceived attack and reflexively, he brought his arms up to defend himself. Yet the action was too little too late.

“-Hofferson,” Snotlout finished, his voice going up an octave.

Blue eyes went from startled surprise to hardened sapphires in a matter of seconds. The broad-shouldered Viking reached out, pulling the axe from the wall with a single hand. The look on his face spurred the Head of the Academy into action. He needed to defuse the rapidly escalating situation and fast.

“Okay, okay, let's take a deep breath,” Hiccup stepped between the fuming teenage girl and the equally enraged Viking, knowing neither one would attack the chief’s son. However, if Astrid attacked Snotlout unprovoked, there would be problems. Big problems, because as much as he didn’t like to admit it, Snotlout was his cousin and if the shieldmaiden attempted to murder the chief’s nephew without cause, her life would be forfeited. “Just because Aurvandil's Fire is coming, doesn't mean the Flightmare is, too.”

“Sure, it does,” Fishlegs contradicted him, pulling The Book of Dragons out from behind his back and flipping through the pages. The Night Fury rider really wished he was the one holding the axe right about now, maybe then the heavyset Viking would have stayed silent. As it was, he wasn’t holding a weapon and Fishlegs continued to rant on excitedly. “Every ten years the sky lights up with Aurvandil's Fire, and when it does the Flightmare appears. Its spectral glow and banshee-like scream are unmistakable.”

Astrid gave him the evil eye and waved towards the Gronckle rider currently engrossed in the book he must have read a thousand times. “You were saying?”

“Thank you, Fishlegs. Your extensive knowledge of the Flightmare is timely, if nothing else,” Hiccup deadpanned, keeping an eye on his cousin who had—thankfully—put the weapon down. That was some progress at least since the situation was now deteriorating in a whole new direction.

Fishlegs glanced up from the book with a look befitting of Snotlout, full of pride and arrogance. “I do fancy myself to be Berk's leading authority on the subject. Here's a few more fun facts. Legend has it that the Flightmare is so terrifying, it actually freezes its prey in their tracks.”

“Yeah. Just ask Frozen Finn Hofferson,” Snotlout snorted. However, there was something different to his voice. Even though he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded as he had been before, his posture was not the same. The brunet's whole frame was taut and coiled while blue eyes were fixed on the blonde teenager, observing her every movement. Moreover, his remark was not his usual mockery. No, this was more sharp and biting, it was meant to hurt. “Right, Astrid?”

Hiccup didn’t react in time. The shieldmaiden lost what little remaining control she had at Snotlout’s thinly veiled allusion and attacked. She sidestepped out of reach of Hiccup's vain attempt to stop her and latched on to the black bearskin cloak the Viking wore around his shoulders. Hiccup expected Astrid to throw Snotlout to the ground and threaten him with either her fist or her axe.

The Head of the Academy was not expecting his cousin’s counterattack.

Snotlout was prepared and sprang into a flurry of movements. He brought his arm up and used his elbow to dislodge her grip on him. Without missing a beat, the Viking grabbed ahold of Astrid’s wrist and exploited her height by ducking under her arm. Snotlout then pulled the captured appendage behind her with the movement and slammed the girl face first into the wall.

The counterattack was not his cousin's usual style. It was less a straightforward attack relying on brute strength, and more of a subtle counter. It was also a move Hiccup recognized to some extent. A move reminiscent to the one Jackson used on Snotlout during their first meeting. Although a slight bastardization—what with not using a staff and all—the move was just as effective, if executed without the grace the Druid possessed.

“You think it's funny Snotlout?! You think it’s a joke that my family name was ruined by that dragon?” Astrid growled out furiously as she tried to shove back only to find herself trapped by the Monstrous Nightmare rider's unmoving form.

“Actually Astrid, I don’t,” the broad-shouldered Viking’s voice had a hard edge. “I don’t give a shit about you or your disgrace of an uncle. He didn’t have to leave the village and live Odin knows where. He chose to because he couldn’t handle the gossip. He could have stayed and done something about it, but he didn’t have the balls to.

“Let’s get this straight, Astrid, if you ever attack me like that again. I won’t hold back. Not anymore. Now if you excuse me, I have more important things to do than stay here and listen to you throw a temper tantrum because your uncle didn’t stand up for himself like a true Viking of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe would.”

Shoving the stunned shieldmaiden further against the wall, Snotlout released his hold and walked out, passing the twins as they headed in.

“Have you guys heard? The Flightmare's coming,” Tuffnut called out, completely missing the charged atmosphere which hung over the other Dragon Riders. Part of the problem came from the wheelbarrow full of what looked to be a bushel of apples obstructing his view, the other part of the problem was they were dealing with the Thorston twins who thrived on chaos and saw nothing wrong with the current mood.

“Guys, we're really trying not to talk about that,” Hiccup found himself saying despite his mind currently being occupied elsewhere.

Green eyes darted from the fuming Astrid brushing off her clothing to the retreating form of Snotlout. He had no idea what had just happened and he was worried. The brunet Viking’s current volatile mood was not acceptable. Neither was Astrid’s outburst and there was nothing he could do about it. If he said something to Snotlout, he would have to say something to the shieldmaiden. Neither confrontation—because they would become confrontations no matter how delicately he brought up the situation—was something he couldn't deal with right now.  Not without losing his own temper.

“Hate to break it to you, but that's the only thing anyone's talking about,” Ruffnut rolled her eyes, not even bothering to keep her voice down. The blonde Viking was too busy trying to keep the tower of cod she was holding from falling to notice the glare Astrid sent her way.

“Well, that and Astrid's uncle,” Tuffnut set down the wheelbarrow and did a quick walk around to inspect the ground for any loss apples. This time, Astrid’s anger did connect with her intended target. She stalked right up to the Viking with dreadlocks and plowed her fist right into his jaw. Tuffnut didn’t even know what hit him. One second, he was looking over his apples and the next, he was sprawled out on his ass with Astrid strolling past him and out of the Academy. “Uh, what just happened? I mean, I could have deserved that but I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve that. Have I done anything?”

Ruffnut turned her attention away from the Deadly Nadder flying off to who knows where and back to her brother. “Not that I know of. I haven’t impersonated you and stole Astrid’s underwear in months.”

“Huh, I thought not,” the blond Viking rubbed his face feeling for any lingering pain. A frown marred his lips when he found none and Tuffnut had to cover his disappointment by ducking his head as he got up off the ground. Collecting the wheelbarrow, he started to push it into Barf and Belch’s pen. “If you don't need us anymore, we gotta go get ready for the end of the world. See ya!”

“Uh, Hiccup, did that seem a little strange to you?” Fishlegs asked when the twins were out of earshot.

“The twins, no. But if you mean Snotlout, yeah, it was strange,” the Head of the Academy rubbed his arm as exhaustion crept back up on him. Hiccup knew he needed to deal with his cousin before things got out of hand. However, with Aurvandil's Fire almost upon them, that took precedent over disgruntled Academy members. “We have more important things to worry about than Snotlout. Have you found anything more about the Flightmare?”

“Every ten years the sky lights up with Aurvandil's Fire-” Fishlegs started reciting, tucking the book under one arm and holding the other up as he waved his hands in an unknown gesture which only he knew the meaning of.

“I meant anything else,” Hiccup sighed, his day looking even longer than it had before. Toothless, sensing his distraught, nuzzled his head against the Dragon Rider’s side and the auburn-haired teenager returned the affection with a pat on the head.

“Not yet, but I still have a few more sources that I need to look through,” the heavyset Viking pouted a little at being denied regaling an audience with his knowledge of dragons once more.

“Okay then, why don’t you do that and we’ll meet up later? Dad wants me to get a few more trees from the forest and I better get on that,” the Night Fury rider ordered more than suggested. Not giving Fishlegs enough time to argue, Hiccup mounted Toothless and was already heading out of the Academy before he had even secured his harness to the saddle. “See you later.”

Toothless waited long enough for the Gronckle rider to say his goodbyes before pushing off the ground and careering towards the exit. At the last second possible, the Night Fury drew his wings back to clear the narrow opening with only a foot to spare. Once high up in the air, Toothless gleefully did a few barrel rolls before leveling out. His ear-plates flattened at the lack of shouts and screams of enthusiasm and joy coming from his rider during their more adventurous aerial stunts.

Instead, Hiccup listlessly leaned to the right, directing Toothless towards an area of the forest he had seen a few fallen trees the last time they were out. The flight was short and mechanical as they picked up a fallen tree of a decent size and flew back to Berk where he had Toothless drop it off next to the Great Hall. Three more trips just like it were made before Mulch signaled him away, saying that they had more than enough lumber to finish.

Yet before he could get away, Silent Sven waved him over and made gestures indicating the need for more boulders to fortify his corral. Not being able to say no, they spent the morning getting boulders from the cove for the Viking and then he was roped into helping round up escaped sheep which took up the afternoon. Following that, he had to help several people carry provisions up to the Great Hall while Toothless took the time to take a nap next to the hearth. Hiccup was envious, but he knew the Night Fury needed it after all the flying and heavy lifting he'd been doing all morning and afternoon.

Finally, when he was able to get away from everyone and their demanding tasks, it was dusk. He had been able to get away with stealing a chicken leg for lunch, but there hadn’t been any time to eat anything since and he only had less than a half an hour to fill his empty stomach before heading over to check on Fishlegs’s progress. He wasn’t successful. Instead, he stumbled over Astrid packing Stormfly’s saddlebags and he just knew she was going after the Flightmare.

As soon as she turned around—her face slackened before becoming hard again—Hiccup knew she had seen him.

“I don't want to hear it, Hiccup. I've waited my entire life for a chance to clear my family's name, and you're not going to stop me,” Astrid spoke as she turned her back on him and Toothless, tightening the Deadly Nadder’s saddle. A quick double-checked to make sure everything was fastened down nice and tight, it appeared the shieldmaiden was ready to go.

With a heavy sigh, something he found himself doing a lot lately, Hiccup glanced helplessly at Toothless for assistance he knew he wasn’t going to get. The dragon just looked at him and tilted his head to the side before sitting down next to his rider as if he was waiting for the auburn-haired teenager. Sometimes, Hiccup just knew there was more going on in the Night Fury’s head than the dragon portrayed, and then there were times like this that the Viking felt like there was nothing going on in Toothless’s mind at all.

Vivid green eyes ended up returning to Astrid, more precisely her back. The chief’s son struggled to think of a simple way to resolve one of the many current situations he had on his plate without resorting to drastic measures. He came up empty and did what he did best, he improvised.

“Who said anything about stopping you?” he asked nonchalantly, which in hindsight was the worst thing he could say. The blonde teenager only had to look over her shoulder with a hard look, one that said she knew he was planning to stop her before walking away. Stormfly dolefully followed and Hiccup had to hobble after them, his metal leg acting up due to his exhaustion. “Okay, Astrid, I have to stop you. Look, nobody loves a new and terrifying dragon more than I do, but I need you guys here to protect Berk. If that thing does show up, it's going to take all of us to fight it off.”

Toothless, like the night before, noticed his hobbling and took pity on him. Coming up behind his rider, the Night Fury used his head to toss the teenager up, over his head, and onto his back.  Once Hiccup was situated in the saddle, Toothless galloped past the Deadly Nadder duo, cutting off their path. The shieldmaiden was forced to stop and look up at Hiccup, but her expression didn’t change. In fact, her scowl deepened and her eyes narrowed to mere slits.

“Not if it never gets here,” the words were spat out with such venom that it had the Head of the Dragon Academy’s worry for her wellbeing increasing exponentially. Astrid was going down a dangerous path. Her focus on revenge could very well get her killed. Something he could not deal with, not only would he lose her, but that would just be another thing to pile on to his already overflowing plate of duties. “Come on, Hiccup. Don't tell me you haven't been dreaming about the Flightmare, going after it, learning about it, training it?”

This time, it was Hiccup who narrowed his eyes at the cynical quips. He could feel Toothless under him stiffen at the shieldmaiden’s tone, the muscles beneath him tensing and he was certain the Night Fury’s teeth had emerged from his gums. The dragon was preparing to defend Hiccup if necessary.

“Well, you know, Astrid, training dragons isn't the only thing I think about,” the chief’s son reined in his own fury and fought to speak calmly for Toothless’s sake more than hers. He didn’t want the Night Fury getting any more worked up than he already was or else Toothless might just attack.

Hiccup also resented the fact she would think such of him. He was Stoick the Vast’s son and yes, the Dragon Training Academy was his top priority, but the fact of the matter was his father hadn’t given him the Academy just because he had managed to train a Night Fury. The chief had given him the Academy to prepare him for the responsibility which awaited him; it was the next stage in his training to become chief. The Academy gave him the opportunity to gain experience in being a leader; on how to manage funds and supplies, to listen to those he leads, and, above all, to make the important decision when the time comes.

This was one of those times. He was attempting to save Berk without the need to spill blood and Astrid wanted to rush into battle like a berserker. She either was not aware of the consequences Berk would have to face for her actions or did not care. All Astrid was thinking about was herself.

“Are you actually saying that to me with a straight face?” the shieldmaiden hissed and Hiccup could have answered her question honestly with a ‘yes.’ It just so happened, he didn’t get the chance as Fishlegs came running up to them, frantically waving a scroll of paper around.

“There you are, Hiccup. I did the research you asked for,” the heavyset Viking huffed, stopping a little ways between the two other Dragon Riders. He had to hold up his finger, gesturing for them to give him a minute as he leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Not now, Fishlegs,” the Head of the Academy quietly ordered, eyes never leaving Astrid’s narrowed blue ones. If her scowl became any deeper, and if it was closer to winter, Hiccup mused that Jökul Frosti just might have frozen her face as such as a prank. It sure would scare a lot of people if he did.

“But I have the path of the Flightmare right on this map. For generations, it's gone through the Northern Swamp on the way to the village. Same route every time. If I could only figure out why, we might be able to stop it,” Fishlegs blurted out without heeding the gentle warning.

Hiccup turned his head and looked at the other Viking, speaking very deliberately. “Fishlegs, Astrid doesn't want to talk about the Flightmare.”

“Of course she does,” the dragon enthusiast completely missed the hint.

Astrid didn’t miss the opportunity though and jumped right in. “Sure, I do.”

“See?” the Gronckle Dragon rider pointed out as if it was Hiccup that was the thickheaded one. “So, as I was saying, if you want to get close to it, you're going to have to be stealthy, virtually invisible in the dark.”

“Kind of like a Night Fury?” the shieldmaiden asked and the chief’s son definitely did not like where this was going. Neither did Toothless, judging by the way he shook his head. Hiccup was just thankful the dragon was no longer tense and ready to attack. That did not mean the Night Fury wasn’t still worked up though, his rider could feel it in the way the dragon was shifting that Toothless had a lot of pent-up energy.

Fishlegs nodded his head sage-like. “Exactly like a Night Fury.”

Astrid looked at Toothless with a gleam in her eyes. However, when she stepped closer, the Night Fury took a step back. The minute his pupils became slits, Stormfly grabbed onto the back of her rider’s shirt and pulled the girl back. Toothless bared his teeth at Astrid but gave the Deadly Nadder a curt nod who wisely kept Astrid away from the Night Fury. At least one of them had some sense, Hiccup thought.

“So, when do we leave?” the shieldmaiden would not relent and struggled to free herself from her dragon, her blue eyes never leaving Toothless. Although, once Stormfly placed her rider close to her side, Astrid made no moves towards the annoyed dragon.

Yet again Hiccup was kept from answering. This time it was his mentor calling his name as he hobbled over, waving his hook in the air to get their attention. Grump trailed not far behind the blacksmith. Though, he was going even slower than usual and Hiccup noticed why. The Boulder-class dragon, like the Night Fury, was also looking after his human. Preventing the man from falling over in his clearly exhausted state. The bags beneath Gobber's eyes looked the worst Hiccup had ever seen.

“Ah, Hiccup there you are. I’m glad I was able to catch you,” Gobber huffed as he reached the small group, slightly leaning up against Grump to take his weight off of his peg leg. “I was just wondering, how is Jackson doing? What with all the preparations for Aurvandil's Fire going on, I’ve been sleeping at the forge and I wanted to be sure he’s been okay on his own.”

“Uh, Gobber, I haven’t seen Jackson recently,” the auburn-haired teenager informed his mentor, trying to remember the last time he had seen the boy. There was the dinner with his father and then Jackson had gotten that little Wyldfae’s help to locate Fireworm Island. The last time he had seen him…

Hiccup let out a groan. He knew he had forgotten something. The last time he had seen Jackson was when the Druid had stormed off. Just after the Head of the Academy informed him he couldn’t go with the Dragon Riders to Fireworm Island. He had meant to have a talk with the brunet after they had found the cure for Hookfang, but then this whole thing with Aurvandil's Fire had cropped up and he had pushed the Druid to the back of his mind.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Hiccup asked, praying to anyone listening that it had been some time in the interim.

Gobber stopped and thought, running his hook through his mustache. “Well, I last remember sending him down to fetch you from the Academy. Of course, you were busy with helping reignite Hookfang’s flame; can’t say I’ve seen him since then.”

“Gobber that was a week ago!” Hiccup gasped as a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Turning his attention to the other two Dragon Riders—one of which whose mouth had fallen open at the revelation—the weight in his stomach grew. “Have either of you seen Jackson recently?”

“No,” Astrid tapped her foot against the ground repeatedly while gazing towards the quickly darkening sky for any sign of Aurvandil's Fire.

Fishlegs took longer to answer, biting his lips as he scratched his chin. “Not since before we went to Fireworm Island. I wanted to ask him about the Wyldfae he summoned but I couldn’t find him. Then the chief asked us to go get more lumber and you asked me to research the Flightmare and with everything going on, there was no time to go looking for him to asked and…. I… I forgot.”

If he wasn’t already resting on Toothless’s back, the Dragon Rider would have staggered, because he too had forgotten about Jackson. Disregarding the Druid because Hiccup hadn’t had the time or desire to deal with the angered foreigner. However, Jackson was a person. Not one of his inventions to be tinkered with when he had the time and put to the side when he didn’t. He was responsible for anything that happened to the brunet because he had neglected Jackson. There was no other way about it; Hiccup had neglected the brunet because he hadn’t wanted to deal with the teenager’s anger.

“Okay, we just need to find him. He has to be somewhere in the village,” Hiccup said hopefully, green eyes sweeping the area around them. He tried to think of where Jackson would be if he wasn’t at the armory but he realized he had no idea where the Druid liked to go in his spare time.

“He’s not,” Gobber shook his head, scratching Grump behind the dragon’s ear-wing with his hook to soothe himself. A few scales fell to the ground at the rough petting, but the dragon didn’t seem to notice. “We’ve looked everywhere and I just figured he was with you guys, helping prepare for the Flightmare.”

Hiccup felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

Toothless let out a concerned croon and looked around as if Jackson would magically appear. “It’s okay Bud, we’ll find him.”

“But what about the Flightmare?” Fishlegs whined, pointing in the general direction of the Northern Swamp. “It’ll be coming soon.”

“Yeah, we have to go after the Flightmare now. It’s our only chance to spot it before it gets to Berk,” Astrid snapped as she mounted Stormfly and directed the dragon towards the Northern Swamp.

“She’s right,” the heavyset Viking nodded briskly, mounting his own dragon. “If we don’t leave to stop the Flightmare now, it will reach Berk.”

This was one of those situations his father was trying to prepare him for, making the hard decision when the time came. Hiccup knew the correct course of action was to go after the Flightmare. The village’s protection as a whole should come first and one person wasn’t worth risking the lives of the entire tribe. Jackson could wait. Hopefully.

However, if anything did happen to the Druid, Hiccup would shoulder the blame. It was his fault for not checking in on Jackson at any point during the week. He would take responsibility for his actions; or, in this case, his inactions.

“We’ll search for him when we get back, Gobber,” the Dragon Rider ignored the warbling coming from the dragon below him. The Night Fury wasn’t happy with the decision and he wasn’t happy with his own decision either. Yet, it was a decision Hiccup was going to have to suffer the consequences of, even if that included Toothless being mad at him for a second time. “Come on Bud, the sooner we deal with the Flightmare, the sooner we can go search for Jackson.”

Toothless conceded the point and settled down, allowing Hiccup to give Gobber a strained smile. “Gobber please keep an eye out for him; he might still be in the village somewhere.”

“Will do,” Gobber nodded once, yet his voice was low and laden with emotions. He too was worried about the missing Druid.

The Dragon Rider had no time to console his mentor as Astrid had already taken off with Stormfly and Meatlug attempted to follow, yet the Gronckle was having a difficult time keeping up with the fast pace the shieldmaiden set. Nudging Toothless towards the Northern Swamp, Hiccup clipped his harness to Toothless’s saddle and took off after the other dragons. The Night Fury effortlessly past Meatlug and caught up with the Deadly Nadder before taking the lead.

Chapter 22: A Druid’s Passage

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Okay, we are going to observe the Flightmare, Astrid. We are going to see what we can learn about it, try to redirect it. If we can't, we are falling back to town. Understand?” Hiccup stressed the situation, glancing back to give Astrid a pointed look. The shieldmaiden didn’t even give him the courtesy of pretending to pay attention, her eyes fixed solely on Aurvandil's Fire in hopes of spotting the Flightmare first.

“Sure,” Astrid replied, her voice lacking in sincerity.

Hiccup really wished he had left her behind with the twins or let her ride with Fishlegs while he faced the Flightmare alone. However, if he’d done that, he couldn’t be sure the shieldmaiden wouldn’t have gotten on Stormfly or coerce the heavyset Viking into chasing down the Flightmare, defeating the reason they had split up in the first place. He and Fishlegs believed it was for the best if only one dragon approached the Flightmare to keep the threat of a perceived attack at bay. At least the Head of the Academy knew the Gronckle rider wouldn’t be interfering. He was content to stay behind and read through the scrolls he brought along by the light of the campfire. Not no mention, he had two dragons for protection.

On the other hand, Hiccup was stuck with Astrid and her axe.

“Say the words ‘I understand, Hiccup,’” the auburn-haired Dragon Rider prompted the shieldmaiden, accidentally elbowing her in the side to garner Astrid’s full attention.

“Fine,” the blonde teenager drew out and Hiccup didn’t have to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. “I understand, Hiccup.”

The Night Fury rider just rolled his eyes skywards but couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Well, that just instills me with confidence."

After the failed exchange, they flew in silence. Toothless’s ear-plates twitching every now and again as they crossed over valleys and rock formations covered in fresh green foliage. Hiccup barely made out the terrain below. If it had been any other night, he wouldn’t have been able to see a thing at all. It was only because of the blue-green glow coming from Aurvandil's Fire waving across the night’s sky that allowed him a hint of visibility.

“There's the Northern Swamp,” the Night Fury rider spoke, spotting the faint weirdly shaped tree that marked the boundaries of the swamp. The resonating roar which penetrated the howling winds and the flapping of Toothless’s wings was all they needed to know Fishlegs had been right about his speculation on the Flightmare’s location. “Uh…sounds like we’re getting close.”

“Good. I can't wait to see this thing,” and Hiccup supposed that was the first thing she said to him this evening that wasn’t spoken in anger or sarcasm. Still, he had a feeling she had an ulterior motive.

“Uh… you won't have to wait long. Remember, observe only!” the auburn-haired Viking shouted when something detached itself from the blue-green lights of Aurvandil's Fire.

The glowing blue object let out a roar and the vague dragon-like shape emitted a burst of intense light. Toothless reared back at the sheer intensity and dove down to escape the glare. Hiccup felt Astrid’s arms around him tighten to the point of pain as they plummeted, but he was too worried about the dots of light which danced across his eyes that for all intents and purposes, blinded him.

Toothless must have felt the same effects as him, only to a greater extent since he got the full brunt of the attack. They came close to plowing into the ground only for the Night Fury to bank hard, pulling back up from the dive. Astrid’s grip became even more unbearable before relenting when Toothless evened out and changed their flight path away from what could only be the Flightmare.

“Okay. Well, it certainly lives up to the hype,” Hiccup greedily sucked in large gulps of air. He only had the vaguest of memories of the last time the Flightmare and Aurvandil’s Fire had come to Berk; the dragon glowing had not been one of them. Then again, the last time had been a decade ago and he’d been six, it was understandable he’d forgotten.

The Viking had just blinked away the spots from his vision when he felt, more than saw Astrid’s breaking her promise. Her arm relinquishing their hold on him before her boot connected with his back and then he was the only one on Toothless’s back. Green eyes snapped downwards in time to see the shieldmaiden land harmlessly on the ground in a crouched position. He knew what she was going to do but that didn’t stop him from demanding to know what she was thinking.

“What do you think I'm doing?! Defending Berk! And my family honor! We'll see who's a coward!” she snapped, standing up and drawing her axe from her belt.

Hiccup didn't have time to deal with the shieldmaiden’s reckless behavior, not when he could finally see that the Night Fury's current trajectory had them cantering straight towards a valley’s wall. Toothless must have also regained his vision as he pulled back hard, prompting his rider into shifting the gears of the tailfin as the dragon leaned further back. They flew straight up, parallel to the wall, unable to turn back around in time. When Toothless could safely double back, Hiccup knew they were already too late.

Astrid was running at the glowing beast. Its luminosity diminishing, allowing Hiccup his first good look at the dragon and it looked nothing like he was expecting. The Flightmare wasn’t the gigantic Titan Wing dragon as he had first assumed but was, in fact, only slightly bigger than Toothless. The phantasm neon blue glow had hidden a head similar to that of a Fireworm Queen's but with only one nose horn and the addition of three little wavy spines underneath its snout. Barbs went from behind the Flightmare’s head, all down its long body before stopping at the base of a split tail.

It was the dragon’s wings that caught Hiccup's attention. Unlike any other dragon the Academy members had encountered before, the Flightmare's wings tapered off into streamer-like tendrils which moved unpredictably; sometimes barely perceptible, then, all of a sudden, they'd be swirling about in rivers of pulsing blue light. Tiny markings dotted the wings' membrane, producing the vivid, pulsing colors that shown brighter than the rest of the dragon's body. Overall, the Flightmare’s wings reminded Hiccup of a starry night sky lit up by Aurvandil’s Fire.

“Leave Berk now, and never come back! Here I am, ungodly beast, Fearless Astrid Hofferson! Come and get me, if you dare!” the shieldmaiden strengthened her stance, hefting her axe up high to intimidate a dragon three times her size. To say it wasn’t working would be an understatement.

ASTRID!” Hiccup shouted in alarm, knowing the reckless blonde was inviting trouble and there was no way he could get to her in time. Even as Toothless dove at the battle ready shieldmaiden, the Flightmare was already upon her. A jet of blue-green liquid spewed from its mouth—which was a slight relief that it wasn’t fire—aimed straight at Astrid. The mist coated her from head to toe, sinking into the girl’s skin and leaving behind a glistening sheen.

The Head of the Academy could only watch in horror, not knowing what the blue-green substance was or what it would do to her. He couldn’t see any visible injuries when the glow dissolved and Astrid just stood there. Frozen in place even as the Flightmare doubled back around, heading for her once more. This time the dragon wasn’t messing around and had its sharp teeth bared, ready to strike.

Toothless was still too far to prevent the glowing dragon from feasting on the shieldmaiden’s flesh and yet, Astrid’s skin was left intact. Hiccup caught the tail end of someone darting out from a hidden passageway in the rock wall before the blonde was tackled to the ground. Not a second later Hookfang exploded out through the same passageway. Blazing wings unfurling and a massive roaring battle cry shook the valley as the Monstrous Nightmare intercepted the glowing dragon, keeping it away from the two vulnerable humans underneath him.

The Flightmare was forced to abort its attack on Astrid to avoid plowing into the larger dragon. Toothless had to pull up from his nosedive to avoid his own collision with either of the other dragons. He flared out his wings, slowing down until the Night Fury duo were hovering a distance away from the two tangling dragons.

“Yeah, you go Hookfang! Fire it up!” Snotlout cheered from the Monstrous Nightmare’s back as the two flew after the Flightmare.

Flames erupted across Hookfang’s scales, lighting up similarly to how the Flightmare’s body was releasing a blue-green glow to blind its opponents. The Monstrous Nightmare’s flames won out, producing a screech from his opponent as it fell back but didn’t retreat. The Mystery-class dragon observed them from a safe distance, glowing blue eyes sweeping over the group as a whole but ultimately locking onto the flaming Stoker-class dragon. Screeching, the Flightmare dove at Hookfang in a blitz attack. The glow from its body growing brighter and brighter as it gained more and more speed.

“Okay. Gotta go!” Snotlout shouted and Hookfang turned around. Flying close to the ground, the Monstrous Nightmare pulled his wings tightly into his body allowing the brawny Viking to reach out and grab hold of the frozen form of Astrid being lifted up by his companion, hefting her up on to Hookfang. It all took a second, but Snotlout had the shieldmaiden safely situated behind him and was hurtling away from the incoming Flightmare. However, there was only enough time for the Monstrous Nightmare to complete handing off the shieldmaiden, leaving her rescuer grounded.

Toothless was already in action before Hiccup realized what was happening, pitching towards the lone figure and grabbing the person with his front paws and continuing on without missing a stride, seconds before the Flightmare was upon them. The Night Fury then took to the sky, following the red dot climbing into the clouds and hovering in the foggy patch silently as the glow of the Flightmare zipped by their hiding spot and back towards the Northern Swamp.

“I think we lost him,” Hiccup finally dared to speak when the blue glow from the Flightmare was no longer visible. He glanced over towards Snotlout and Hookfang, the former of which was having a tough time keeping his passenger’s axe from stabbing him in the back.

“For now, at least,” the broad-shouldered Viking agreed, at long last being able to shift Astrid’s stiff arm to the side.

With the weapon no longer poking him, Snotlout flew the Monstrous Nightmare out of the clouds. Hiccup was forced to follow his lead and they glided after his cousin. Hookfang was the first to land, lowering his head to allow his rider to dismount. Although, pulling the motionless form of Astrid off of the dragon’s neck turned out to be a little bit of a hassle. While the brunet Viking struggled with getting the shieldmaiden down, Toothless hovered over the ground. Tenderly the Night Fury set his extra passenger down before flying back a little and landing next to Hookfang.

Astrid!” Hiccup’s hands fumbled with his harness, which had done its job in keeping him in the saddle during the fast flying, but was now keeping him from ensuring the shieldmaiden’s safety.

Once free from the straps, the auburn-haired teenager dismounted and hobbled over to Snotlout’s side. He yanked Astrid from Snotlout and shook her by the shoulders. He wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or relief she had survived, and elected to chalk it up to being a little of both.

“What… what happened?” Astrid asked, coming out of her frozen daze. Her arms were sluggish and jerky as she grabbed hold of her head, cringing in pain.

“You were being an idiot and attacked a dragon head on,” Snotlout snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Hookfang gave a snort of his own, smoke coming out of his nostrils well wearing the most unimpressed expression on his face.

“Snotlout, now is not the time,” Hiccup chided his cousin, even though for once they were both on the same page.

Astrid’s actions were brash and inexcusable, something which he had expected from the brunet Viking standing beside him and not the shieldmaiden in front of him. However, as he said, now was not the time for reprimands. They still had the Flightmare to deal with. Yet, because of the shieldmaiden’s foolish behavior, Hiccup now had first-hand experience with the Mystery-class dragon and noted something significant that hadn't been in any of the records.

“The Flightmare sprayed you with some kind of mist. It paralyzed you.”

“It froze me,” Astrid sucked in a breath in dawning realization.

“Well, I guess the good news is the effects are only temporary, just long enough for it to strike,” the Head of the Academy released his hold on the blonde and took a step back, rubbing his chin. Vivid green eyes gazed down, perceiving nothing as he considered what this could entail.

“I knew my uncle wasn't afraid of that dragon. He was paralyzed by it,” the shieldmaiden crowed, her vindication that her uncle’s inactions were not from fear evident. Too wrapped up in returning her family’s honor, she completely overlooked her rash, careless behavior and any potential consequences that could arise from her encounter with the Flightmare.

“Yeah, just like you,” the broad-shoulder Viking mocked, waving his hand in the direction the Flightmare had flown off in. “I guess it runs in the family; too proud to get out of the way.”

“Why don’t you say that to my face,” Astrid snapped out of her euphoric state and rounded on him. Blue eyes met blue in a battle of wills, picking up where they had left off earlier in the day. The shieldmaiden went as far as taking a step forward, raising her axe up slightly but never breaking eye contact.

“I believe I just did,” Snotlout shot back, arms unfolding and hands clenching into fists. Behind him, Hookfang stood up straight, a shimmer of heat emanating from his body with a few patches of flame briefly flickering to life here and there before going out.

Hiccup stepped between the two for a second time that day. “Guys, guys, now is not the time.”

“He started it,” Astrid accused like a prudent child, crossing her arms over her chest but being careful not to nick herself with the axe.

The auburn-haired teen refrained from shaking his head; he ended up choosing to ignore the shieldmaiden in favor of speaking with Snotlout. “What are you doing here? Berk is supposed to be on lockdown.”

“We were trying to divert the Flightmare before it ever reached Berk. We could have done it too, if you people hadn’t intervened,” blue eyes rolled as coiled muscles lost their tension. “Fawn informed us the algae that flows down the river from the Northern Swamp is the Flightmare’s primary food source. She thinks the dragons and humans close to the swamp are trying to steal her food and sees them as a threat to her survival.”

As his cousin spoke, a small burnt orange ball of light appeared from underneath his cloak as a little Dewdrop Faerie peeked out. When she was sure there were only friends among them, the little fae flew out from under the black bearskin cloak and landed on top of the brunet Viking’s shoulder. Fawn then proceeded to gesture angrily at Hiccup and Astrid, heated chimes flew from the little figure’s mouth as the burnt orange orb surrounding her grew and retracted in size.

The broad-shouldered Viking calmed the worked up Wyldfae down by patting her on the head with a single finger before turning his attention back to the interlopers.

“Fawn was in the middle of reassuring the Flightmare we didn’t want her algae and if she made a detour around the village, no humans would attack her or steal her food. Fawn had almost convinced the Flightmare too when you muttonheads flew into her territory and set her off,” Snotlout informed them with a perturbed look on his face. Tinkering sounds came from the Wyldfae on his shoulder who had her arms folded and was nodding along with every word the Monstrous Nightmare rider said.

Hiccup stared at his cousin slacked jawed; he had to blink a few times to make sure it was Snotlout standing beside him and not someone else. “You actually were trying to help the village?”

The glare the Head of the Academy received was partly justified, because while Snotlout had done some underhanded things—like selling water during the Whispering Death incident—he was not about to allow a dragon to destroy the village.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let Jackson face the Flightmare all on his own,” the brunet Viking jerked his thumb behind the two other Dragon Riders.

Whirling around, Hiccup could only gap at the missing Druid sprawled on the ground with Toothless lying on top of him, purring contently. Even though he was stuck underneath the Night Fury with a frown on his face, the corners of the brunet’s lips were twitching upwards as he fought to keep from smiling, trying—and failing—to stare down the dragon pinning him down. Overall, Jackson looked none the worse for wear in his week-long absence. In fact, he actually looked better than the auburn-haired teenager remembered.

“I would have been fine by myself!” Jackson yelled, having been listening in despite amber eyes never wavering from the dragon above him. He tried to sit up only to be pushed back down when Toothless wriggled a bit, snuggling into the Druid.

“Two words for you: Terrible Terrors,” Snotlout snickered, grinning hysterically when Jackson flopped back down after his hard-won effort to prop himself up onto his elbows.

“I hate you. You are no longer allowed to speak to Finn. Never… ever… again,” the brunet groaned out in humiliation, throwing the arm holding his staff over his eyes to hide away from the world.

The dragon on top of him whined in sympathy before attempting to cheer him up by licking the brunet’s exposed face. Jackson let out a startled yelp, arms flailing about. He worked to gently push the purring dragon’s head away with his staff but it proved to be futile and he had to change tactics. The Druid used his arms and did his best to shield his face from the rest of the Night Fury’s tongue swipes.

“Hey! A little help here, please?”

“You said you could handle it on your own,” the burly Viking guffawed. Hookfang snorted out a ring of smoke, trying desperately to hide it behind his wing as the Monstrous Nightmare laughed at Jackson. It only earned him a glare from the Druid. A glare which quickly turned into a smirk as he whispered into one ear-plate and a low powered plasma blast was directed in Hookfang’s general direction.

“Thank you Toothless, at least someone around here appreciates me,” Jackson awkwardly patted the dragon from his position underneath said Night Fury. “But, could you please get up off me?”

Toothless let out a small warble before closing his eyes and for all intents and purposes, appeared to go to sleep.

Fantastic! I take that as a resounding no,” the Druid said drily, throwing his arms out behind his head and looking skywards.

Hiccup, stifling his own snickers, walked over to the Night Fury and tapped him on the wing with his foot. The result was one acid green eye peering out through a half-opened eyelid. “Alright Bud, that’s enough for now. We have to track down the Flightmare.”

The dragon gave out a disgruntled grumble but eventually climbed off of Jackson. Not before one more lick to the Druid’s face resulting in a shriek of indignity. Hiccup held out his hand to help Jackson, but he just tossed his staff into the air and kicked-up off the ground. Landing on his feet, he brushed his shoulders off before looking up and grabbing his staff as it came down. A soft tinkling sound caught Hiccup's attention and vivid green eyes were drawn to a clear crystal dangling around the staff.

“Show off,” Snotlout grumbled coming up to stand beside the other brunet, breaking Hiccup’s eye contact with the clear jewel. For a moment, he swore he saw images in the crystal but that couldn’t be true.

“Just because you haven’t mastered the kip-up doesn’t mean I’m showing off,” the taller brunet shot back, lazily stretching his arms. The cheeky grin on his face told a whole different story.

“Yeah, whatever,” the burly brunet brushed off as he climbed up onto Hookfang’s back and slid into the saddle. Fawn flittered around the Monstrous Nightmare’s head before sitting down on his nose and latching onto the tiny horn located between Hookfang's nostrils. “Now let’s get going, we don’t have much time.”

“And since Plan A didn’t work, Plan B it is,” Jackson nodded, gazing off into the distance with a calculating look.

“It’ll be faster if we fly,” Snotlout pointed out, knowing the Druid was looking for the best possible route to get to where they were going.

With one more glance around him, the brunet conceded the point with time being of the essence. “Fine, just make sure Hookfang doesn’t fry me.”

“Oh please, you've never flown with us and yet you’re already complaining,” the Monstrous Nightmare rider offered a hand to Jackson.

Before Snotlout could grab hold of the Druid’s hand, Toothless got between the larger dragon and the brunet. The Night Fury growled something at Hookfang which had the other dragon taking a step back. He then turned to look at Jackson with wide innocent eyes and motioned to his back.

“Uh, I don’t think Toothless wants me to fly with you,” the brunet commented uncertainly, causing the Night Fury’s ear-plates to perk up.

Toothless looked towards his rider before bouncing around Jackson and pushing his head into the Druid’s knees causing them to buckle and the teen to let out a startled yelp. The dragon used the Druid’s unsteadiness to boost him into the air and into his saddle. He then proceeded to do the same to Hiccup.

Toothless!

“Oh, I’m not riding with Snotlout,” Astrid took a step toward the black dragon with every intention of hitching a ride with them.

The Night Fury, however, wasn’t having any of that and took a step back before launching himself into the night sky. Leaving the shieldmaiden stranded there to either catch a ride on Hookfang or be left behind.

“Hey, I’m not any more pleased with this than you are,” Snotlout didn't even bother to offer her a hand up. He already knew she wouldn’t take it and it was best to let Astrid hoist herself up. The blonde teenager had just gotten situated on Hookfang when the Monstrous Nightmare took off after Toothless.

“So where are we headed?” Hiccup asked once they were in the air, taking a glance back at the other teenager trying to catch amber eyes with his own. He wanted to apologize for how he had left things the last time they had seen each other. Yet, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

Jackson wasn’t even looking in his direction, eyes focused below them, searching for something. “Just follow the river.”

“Which one?” the Night Fury rider asked, unsure if the foreigner even realized how many different rivers ran through Berk. In the spring—well, what passed for spring in Berk—there was double the number of rivers and streams due to the snow runoff and a few of those were running.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” the Druid disregarded his question, glancing up at Aurvandil's Fire.

Hiccup wasn't sure what the other teenager meant but that was before he looked down and immediately identified the stream he was meant to follow. “What in the name of Thor?”

“That would be the algae the Flightmare eats,” Snotlout answered, Hookfang having caught up with the Night Fury before leveling out so they were flying next to Toothless while vivid green eyes were preoccupied with the stream below. It was hard not to stare, what with one of the rivers below glowing just as brightly as Aurvandil's Fire above. Even Astrid was staring, distracted from her mission of revenge to take in the beauty below.

“It’s glowing,” the shieldmaiden breathed out, the harsh edge to her voice which had been there all evening was no longer present. Rather, her voice was filled with wonder. 

“The glow is some sort of reaction to Aurvandil's Fire,” Jackson explained. How he knew this information, no one asked; they just attributed it to him being a Druid. “Just follow the glowing river.”

Hiccup finally pulled his eyes away from the bluish-green winding river and caught sight of amber eyes twinkling in the glow. A lump formed in his throat as a stray thought drifted to the forefront of his mind. Had Jackson done all this to prove to them—to prove to Hiccup—that he wasn’t a liability regardless of how dangerous the situation was?

Feeling the need to address his concerns, the auburn-haired teenager spoke up in a low voice so only the Druid would hear. “Jackson, I’m sorry for what I said before. I am, but if you’re trying to prove something to me—"

Jackson cut him off before he could get going. “You can stop right there, Hiccup. Not everything is about you. I’m not out here because of anything you did or said. I'm not here to prove myself to anyone. I’m out here because Fawn asked me for assistance and I obliged.”

“But what I said—" Hiccup tried again, feeling it was somewhat his fault and again, he was cut off.

“Don’t worry about it,” the brunet brushed it off like it was nothing. “I know not to take what other people say too seriously. It’s better that way. People only end up hurting you if you let them and I’ve learned not to let anyone hurt me. I’d rather spend my time doing something productive then wallowing in despair.”

The Dragon Rider fell silent, wondering what transpired to hurt Jackson so badly that he wouldn’t allow people in. Logically, it could have been the king hunting down his people and slaughtering his family. However, the Viking got the feeling this hurt was different, that it was a deeper, soul-scarring wound. A wound which never had the chance to heal. One still opened, raw and bleeding out because no one bothered to treat it.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jackson asked, breaking the chief’s son out of his deep thoughts. Vivid green eyes followed the direction the Druid’s staff was pointing and found two dragons flying in their direction. A closer inspection revealed them to be Meatlug and Stormfly.

“It’s Fishlegs, and he’s bringing reinforcements,” Hiccup reassured the Druid. Although, he was curious what made the nervous Viking leave his campsite.

“Stormfly! Thank Thor you’re here,” Astrid joyfully called out to the Deadly Nadder, jumping from Hookfang to land on Stormfly’s back when she was within range. “Good to see you, girl.”

“Flying with you isn’t a pleasure for me either,” Snotlout grumbled, veering off so he was flying on Toothless’s other side and away from the shieldmaiden.

“Hiccup!” the heavyset blond called out when Meatlug reached the small pack. “I think I figured out why the Flightmare takes the same route to Berk every decade. It always follows the stream from the Northern Swamp into the village because—"

“She’s following the algae, we already know that,” the auburn-haired Viking cut Fishlegs off.

“How…how did you figure it out?” the Gronckle rider visibly deflated, having the winds taken out of his sail.

“We had a little help from the local Wyldfae,” Hiccup indicated to the burnt orange glow coming from Hookfang’s nose where Fawn was situated. Looking over at the Dewdrop Faerie, Fishlegs did a double take upon seeing the Monstrous Nightmare duo. 

"Also, not that hard to spot, y'know, what with the algae glowing and all," Snotlout derisively gestured to said glowing river below,   

The Gronckle rider ignored the comment, instead, he turned his attention back towards the Head of the Academy. “Well, I at least figured out a way to stop the Flightmare from reaching the village. We have to cut a new channel for the river and divert the flow of the glowing algae out to the sea!”

“And what of the environmental impact?” Jackson questioned, drawing the heavyset Viking’s attention from Hiccup to his passenger.

Blue eyes widened while his eyebrows disappeared underneath his helmet. “You found Jackson?”

“More like he found us,” the Head of the Academy corrected, glancing back at the Druid who had one of his eyebrows quirked up.

“I didn’t know I was lost,” the brunet remarked drily before shaking off the comment. “As for your plan, did you even consider the repercussions? What of the local wildlife that depends on the flow of the river staying how it is?”

“Our Plan B is better!” Snotlout shouted, Hookfang increasing his speed so they were in the lead before banking to the left and away from the glowing river.

“And what is this Plan B we keep hearing about?” Astrid asked, flying Stormfly closer to Toothless and further away from Hookfang. However, since the Night Fury veered off to follow the Monstrous Nightmare, the Deadly Nadder was forced to fly closer to the Stoker-class dragon after all.

“Down there,” Jackson leaned over to the side and pointed his crook, and by extension the crystal hanging on it, down towards a patch of the river when they crossed paths with the glowing algae again. Hiccup had to squint but in the limited light, he made out a depression in the landscape off to the side. As they flew closer to the ground, a shadowy figure stood out, surrounded by a few balls of multicolored light floating around. “Toothless, can you land off to the side of the chasm? Don’t land in it, okay?”

The auburn-haired Dragon Rider wasn’t sure what he should be more surprised at, that the Druid asked the Night Fury or that he didn’t mind. Toothless gave an affirmative coo and did as the brunet asked. He was the second dragon to land on the ground, settling down next to Hookfang. Stormfly, on the other hand, stayed in the sky, circling while Meatlug was still a few lengths behind.

“I take it Plan A fell through?” the person on the ground spoke as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feet spread an equal length apart while his hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

It was a stance Hiccup and the rest of the Dragon Academy members had become extremely familiar with and were on the constant lookout for. The Vikings who used the stance were the ones that were ill at ease around dragons and the most likely to attack without provocation. It had been out of necessity that the Dragon Riders learned to identify the warning signs of those who fought the urge to attack the creatures on sight as had been engrained in them since birth. Usually, it was from the older generations or the Vikings who had lost loved ones during dragon raids.

The Head of the Academy was a little bewildered though because he didn’t recognize the man. Hiccup tried to remember who had a problem with dragons and made an effort to avoid those particular Vikings. It was the best course of action given what Mildew put them through repeatedly to rid Berk of the dragons. Yet, he did not recognize the Viking and he should have. As the chief’s son, he'd been introduced to everyone in the Hairy Hooligan Tribe along with the chiefs of other tribes and was expected to remember them all.

“Yeah,” Jackson answered the stranger, gracefully leaping off the Night Fury’s back and landing on the ground effortlessly.

“It almost worked. But then someone spooked the Flightmare,” Snotlout, copying the Druid, jumped from Hookfang’s neck but stumbled on the landing. Fawn flew off of her perch on the Monstrous Nightmare’s nose and over to the other twinkling lights surrounding the tall blond man which—not surprisingly—turned out to be more Wyldfae.

“Uncle?” Astrid's voice squeaked, rooted to her spot on the back of the Deadly Nadder.

“Lass! My Sweet Little Niece, what are you doing here?” the blond man took two steps forward and swept the girl off Stormfly’s back and into a bearhug.

With the two blondes next to each other, Hiccup could see the family resemblance. It was a little difficult with how tiny the shieldmaiden appeared within Finn’s massive arms wrapped around her and her feet dangling in midair but the same could be said of him when his father pulled him into a tight hug.

“She crashed the party,” Snotlout grumbled as he was swarmed by the Wyldfae darting in and out of his clothing but staying away from any metal. A few of them would glow brighter when they found a piece to give the others warning to stay away.

“Oh… my… Thor!” Fishlegs uttered just loud enough for Hiccup to hear as Meatlug finally landed. “It’s Fearless Finn Hofferson.”

“Are we ready?” Jackson’s voice called out, drawing the others’ attention to where he had wandered over to glance down in the chasm. The Dewdrop Faeries darted away from the brunet Viking’s clothing and into the crater, illuminating a tunnel off to the side. A few other Wyldfae flew over the top of a lip which led to a small trench heading off into the distance. “Oh, wow, you guys sure did a lot of work since we left. It looks great.”

“Just need to direct the water in and we’re all set,” Finn acknowledged, setting his niece down and picking up a wooden shovel that had been leaning up against the sole tree in the area. The Wyldfae quickly moved out of the chasm and flew back to join the group of humans and dragons.

“I thought you said my plan was stupid for diverting the river,” Fishlegs grumbled affronted, having Meatlug hovering over the center of the hole.

“It is,” Snotlout grinned.

“It wasn’t thought out,” Jackson spoke up at the same time. The two brunets looked at each other before blue eyes rolled and the Druid continued. “We aren’t diverting the stream, not completely. We’re just creating a detour.”

“How so?” Hiccup asked, coming to stand next to Jackson. Vivid green eyes were drawn to the fae snuggling up to the Druid. However, the Dragon Rider only recognized Periwinkle.

When she noticed him looking her way, she crossed tiny arms and turned her nose up. It would seem while Jackson wasn’t mad at him, Periwinkle was and she wasn’t the only one. All of the brightly colored orbs of light were keeping a noticeable distance between them and the auburn-haired teenager.

“We’re rerouting the river through here first, creating a small pond. The tunnel will direct most of the water back to the river but some of it will flow over the lip and through the trench which leads straight to the ocean and it should carry the algae with it,” the brunet pointed out the various components with his staff and some help from Fawn’s light.

“But won’t the algae also go through the tunnel and back through the village as well?” Astrid inquired, sounding intrigued by the plan.

“From a little trial and error, we found out this particular type of algae floats and will only sink if it’s dying. So yeah, some might still go back in the river, but not enough to worry about,” Snotlout stepped up and continued on with the explanation. The fact he knew such information showed how involved he had been in the plan.

Somehow, two Vikings, one Druid, and a handful of Wyldfae had solved a problem which had been plaguing the Hairy Hooligan Tribe since they had first settled on Berk. What was even more astounding was they had figured out why the Flightmare attacked the village and it wasn’t for any reason they would have thought. Once they identified the problem, the small group worked to come up with a few different solutions so both parties involved would benefit. It was amazing what they had been able to accomplish.

“It's… it's… it's… it's…,” Fishlegs began to stutter.

“What is it Fishlegs?” the auburn-haired teenager prodded, assuming that—like him—the heavyset Viking was struck speechless by the simplicity yet effectiveness of the plan; a plan which in part had been Snotlout’s idea.

“A live Flightmare!” the Gronckle rider burst out, pointing directly behind them. Whirling around as one, the group found the neon blue glow of the Flightmare in the distance. She was no longer following the river and seemed to be searching the ground, most likely looking for them.

Jackson began speaking in the foreign language he was so fond of when he was angry or frustrated before pointing to the river, switching languages. “We need to divert the river into the chasm, and fast.”

“Okay, Bud, time for us to do what we came here for,” Hiccup swung up into the Night Fury’s saddle and clipped on his harness even as the Druid did his utmost to manage the rapidly deteriorating situation.

“Snotlout, think you can distract the Flightmare with the flare thing Hookfang did earlier? It seemed to do the trick last time without hurting her,” Jackson looked to the other brunet in hope they could still put their Plan B into motion and it might have worked too, if not for Astrid.

Despite everything, the shieldmaiden had Stormfly hurtling towards the Flightmare. Even as her uncle called out for her to stop, the Deadly Nadder blasted the other dragon with her magnesium fire which had Jackson swearing in a language everyone could understand. The Druid ran towards the side of the crater closest to the river and started to dislodge the rocks holding the water at bay using his staff as a lever. Finn was right behind him, moving the bigger rocks with the shove, but neither one of them was making any real progress.

“Get out of the way,” Hiccup called as Toothless charged a blast and fired when both Viking and Druid alike were clear.

The plasma blew the rocks to rubble, releasing the makeshift dam but also destroying part of the embankment meant to redirect the flow of the river into the reservoir. Water rushed into the chasm, nearly filling it to the brim but before the water could reach the spillway, it began to flow back through the breach in the embankment. Fishlegs, having spotted the problem, had Meatlug blasting lava down onto the embankment while Hookfang flew overhead and dropped a large boulder onto the molten rock.

“That-a-girl, Meatlug!” the heavyset Viking cheered as she filled the last of the breach with molten lava. The noise drew the Flightmare’s attention to the Gronckle and upon seeing the Boulder-class dragon so close to the river, she plowed towards the perceived threat.

Astrid worked to slow the Flightmare down with a barrage of spines, but the glowing dragon evaded them and dive-bombed Meatlug. With nothing else in-between them, the Mystery-class dragon spat out the glowing bluish-green mist over Fishlegs. The spray did its job, paralyzing the heavyset Viking, who had been unbalanced at the time of the attack and thus, wasn’t able to keep himself from falling off Meatlug’s back.

“Hiccup, the Flightmare got Fishlegs!” Snotlout alerted the Head of the Academy to the Gronckle rider's predicament as he flew Hookfang between the down Viking and the glowing dragon. They were able to push her back by flaming up as Meatlug grabbed her rider by the back of his tunic before he could hit the ground.

Jackson rushed to meet the Gronckle as she landed not far away from the newly created pond, though he was surprised to find the heavyset Viking wasn’t completely paralyzed. He could still talk, but only through the side of his mouth. Everything else was stiff and motionless, though there was a slight greasy gleam to Fishlegs’s skin that was slowly disappearing.

“What just happened to me?” Fishlegs did the best he could to speak, though it took a few tries before he was able to make sounds other than grunts and grumbles.

“The Flightmare; her mist temporarily paralyzes you,” Finn stepped in front of the two boys discarding the useless shovel and drawing an impressive battle axe from his back.

“Thank Thor. I need my legs. They're in my name, after all,” the heavyset Viking spoke a bit more clearly, the paralysis already wearing off.

“Hiccup, finish off the embankment,” Snotlout shouted as Hookfang flew past the Night Fury with the Flightmare right behind them spraying the liquid at the two. For the most part, the Monstrous Nightmare was able to avoid the spray. However, Hookfang’s tail had clearly been hit and was frozen, hanging limply like a deadweight.

With two of the four dragons out of commission, Toothless worked to complete the embankment. Grabbing a boulder, the Night Fury struggled to lift the rock and dropped it onto the rapidly cooling lava. With the rock in place, the river water was forced to flow into the manmade pond once more. The algae swirled around the top of the pond before spilling over into the shallow stream that led away from the village where it would pour over a cliff’s edge and into the ocean.

Looking in the opposite direction, Hiccup could see a faint glow from some of the algae in the still running river flowing through the tunnel that would head back towards the village. The accomplished feeling welling up inside was overshadowed by fear when the Flightmare’s screech reached his ears. Two pairs of green eyes swiveled toward the Mystery-class dragon heading straight towards them with Snotlout and Astrid flying at her heels, unable to distract the glowing dragon.

“Fly into the clouds!” Hiccup yelled even as the Night Fury headed for said clouds above them while Stormfly and Hookfang followed suit.

From within the safety of the cloud coverage, they were able to watch as the Flightmare roared at the clouds but didn’t give chase. She waited for a few minutes before heading back down to the pond and followed the newly made stream out into the ocean and most importantly, away from Berk.

“We did it,” Astrid gapped as the three dragons descended, landing near the group on the ground.

“You sound surprised,” Snotlout boasted pridefully, dismounting and heading over to the glowing pond. Their plan had succeeded.

“It’s beautiful,” Fishlegs admitted, wobbling up to stand beside the water’s edge with the rest of the group.

“It’s magical,” Jackson corrected as the Wyldfae flew over the pond, dancing on the surface. The lights they were giving off brightened every time they touched the algae, but they weren’t the only ones. “Uh, guys, take a look.”

Looking over to where his wooden staff was pointing, the Dragon Riders and Finn found the four dragons drinking from the water which wasn’t something abnormal. What was particular though, was that the dragons began to emit light similar to the Flightmare's that grew in intensity with every swallow of the algae-infested water. Even more strange was they weren’t glowing the same neon blue color the Mystery-class dragon irradiated. No, each of the dragons glowed a distinct color: Toothless shown a bright blue—reminiscent of his plasma blasts—Meatlug, oddly enough, was emitting a particular shade of a lime green, while Stormfly had a yellow luminescence to her, and Hookfang was ablaze in an orange glow only a few shades lighter than Fawn.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” Finn chuckled while the Dragon Riders groaned. At least they hadn’t done that when the Flightmare was around. Who knows what would have happened if the dragons had actually eaten her food and then had to battle her while glowing as they were now.

“And it couldn’t have happened at the worst possible time,” Hiccup groaned, causing the others to look at him in confusion. “We need to get back to the village before anyone notices we're gone. That will definitely make us noticeable.”

“You could wait for the effects to wear off at my hut,” Finn offered, sliding his axe back into its harness secured to his back and moved to collect his shovel along with a satchel of supplies which had been sitting under the tree.

“Wear off?” Fishlegs asked, his eagerness to learn more about the effect of the algae coating his every word. “It’s not permanent?”

“Naw, I’ve seen this happen before, a decade ago. Dragons who ate the algae during the time of Aurvandil's Fire will glow like the Flightmare for a period of time before returning to normal,” the blond Viking dispelled the growing concern they would have to deal with glowing dragons from now on.

“Fascinating,” Fishlegs said which had Jackson bursting out into laughter for some unknown reason.

Notes:

Another chapter, Hiccup tries to make amends and learns Jack is more broken then he thought. Spending 300 years alone does things to a person, even one as happy go lucky as Jack Frost.

Chapter 23: Stretch in the Northern Mountains

Notes:

It would seem that I've gotten a few new readers going on the comments I've received (which thank you very much for) and I'm glad everyone is enjoying the interactions between Jack and the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. I especially like writing the Snotlout and Toothless interaction with Jack in the last chapter and I'm thrilled that so many of you liked it.

Also, to ace of spades, I would like to say yes the Wyldfae are based on Disney's Pixies. Why? Because I was babysitting when I was writing the first fae interaction and that was what the kiddies were watching at the time which influenced my writing. I just went with it. However, their names and appearances are the only think I'm taking from the Disney's Pixies, because other than that, I'm more or less basing the Wyldfae off of the Dresden Files and mythology. Nice catch though.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jackson effortlessly navigated his way through the nonexistent path. Faerie lights glistened around the Druid as he led the way to Finn’s home. He would stop occasionally. Not to let the others catch up—which was necessary for the majority of those who had to fight with the greenery if they wished to follow him—but to pick random leaves off trees or a stone from the ground. He would inspect the items, either putting it into one of his pouches or handing it to one of the various Wyldfae. A few of the Dewdrop Faeries would shimmer brighter when they received the gifts before darting off into the dark.

“Why couldn’t we fly there?” Fishlegs whined perturbed, nearly coming out of his skin when something ruffled the treetops and latched on to the lime green Gronckle at his side. He only settled down when he saw the cause of the disturbance to be a purple ball of light belonging to one of the returning fae.

“Glowing dragons, territorial Flightmare still out there flying about, protecting her food source; does any of that ring a bell?” Snotlout waved a hand around lazily from where he lounged on the back of the glowing orange Monstrous Nightmare.

Hookfang didn’t seem to mind his rider was relaxing on his back while he trampled through the undergrowth a few paces ahead of Meatlug and her jumpy rider with more ease than the lumbering dragon should have possessed. He effortlessly dodged the low-hanging tree branches and swerved to the side to miss a rock protruding out of the ground, hidden by the undergrowth. Both Meatlug and Stormfly, on the other hand, were not as proficient and had a difficult time traversing the uneven terrain as did their riders and Hiccup.

Toothless wasn’t having any trouble either. Then again, the glowing blue dragon was bounding from one tree limb to the next above their heads, following the icy blue ball of light that was Periwinkle. She was flying ahead of the Night Fury touching down on the branches which the dragon landed on. The one time he had landed on a branch Periwinkle skipped over, it gave out under his weight and he plummeted. Luckily, he was able to catch himself on the limb below, clawing his way up and onto a nearby branch.

“How much further?” Astrid asked as she and her uncle headed up the rear. The yellow glow from Stormfly blocked both Hoffersons from view but the others could still hear the occasional soft murmurs from their private conversation.

“Not much further,” Finn answered for them all to hear. He was correct too. The blue glow of Toothless soon glided down to the ground when the forest line came to an end and turned into a barren terrain. The dragon waited to make sure his rider safely exited the forest; only then did he follow after Jackson who was already halfway around the large rock formation blocking their path. Together the two rounded the corner, Toothless trailing after the brunet while Hiccup stopped in his tracks.

Hookfang ambled on around the frozen form of Hiccup and into the clearing with no hesitation. Fishlegs and Astrid, on the other hand, had a similar reaction to their leader and came to a halt on either side of him. Their dragons, in contrast, moved faster to catch up with the others already in the glade as they followed after Toothless and Hookfang.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Finn asked, coming up behind the three teenaged Vikings and placing a hand on Astrid’s and Fishlegs’s shoulders. “I about had a heart attack when the first Wyldfae showed up looking for the lad. Didn’t know what to do even though Laddie had been telling me about them all Devastating Winter long; heck, I was feeding them and didn’t even realize it. Apparently, they liked it here and sort of made it a faerie outpost.”

Hiccup didn’t know if outpost was the correct term for it. There was a haggard hut built against the far side which had seen better days. A rowan bowl was placed by the door surrounded by rocks. However, between the stalled Dragon Riders and the hut was life. Plants were growing in every available space; vines creeping up the rock wall and saplings growing in various spots. Bright vibrant blooms added color to the greenery and the soft trickle of water running down the side of the rock face, forming a small pool were just some of the more notable features.

For a moment, Hiccup could’ve sworn he saw a face in the water. Then again, he most likely—probably—mistook it for a reflection of one of the Dewdrop Faeries what with the sheer magnitude of the Wyldfae in the vicinity. They were everywhere. Floating idly through the air, resting on flower petals, tending to the plants, and there were even a few riding on the backs of rabbits. How they had gone as long as they had with never seeing a fae before meeting Jackson when they were clearly living on Berk with a not so insignificant population was a complete mystery.

“Also, don’t let your dragons eat the rabbits. Laddie has a soft spot for them. Can’t stand to see them killed,” Finn mentioned with a resigned sigh. There was definitely a story there, yet none of them got to ask. The large blond Viking became stiff before pushing past them. “Oh, for the love of Týr! Laddie! What do you think you’re doing?”

The hunter lumbered on over towards his home where Toothless was currently running back and forth around the hut, standing up on his hind legs and grumbling. For on top of the roof was Jackson and every now and then the Druid would throw something down which the Night Fury would dart after, gobbling it up before running back to the hut.

Finn stopped and pointed at Hookfang. “Snotlout! Get off ye ass and get the others settled in. Ye quit being a guest a week ago, ye need to start pulling your weight around here if ye going to keep eating me food.”

“You got it, Finnster!” the brawny Viking acknowledged but made no move to get up.

“And I don’t mean at sunrise, I mean now!” Finn snapped but didn’t bother to turn back around as he headed for a small cave to the side with his satchel and shovel in hand.

“Come on, there is a pot of boar stew and yak butter parfaits inside,” Snotlout yawned, sliding down Hookfang’s back and landing hard on his feet. The brunet Viking then headed for the door of the hut like it was his own. The Monstrous Nightmare, once his rider was out of sight, scampered over to the side of the hut and sat down, begging for whatever food Jackson was throwing to Toothless and was rewarded with a treat of his own.

“Mmm, yak butter parfaits,” Fishlegs drooled scuttling after the dark-haired Viking without further ado. He was so focused on his stomach that he didn’t even notice Meatlug joining Hookfang and Toothless begging for food and she wasn’t the only one. Stormfly, after a quick glance at her rider, also joined in with the other dragons.

“I don’t know if I should be more worried about Stormfly eating Týr knows what from Jackson or Snotlout being so familiar with my uncle and his hut. When did that happen?” the shieldmaiden remarked eyeing Stormfly as the Deadly Nadder shot out a few tail spikes to knock the treat out from above Meatlug only for Hookfang to steal it for himself.

“No idea, but since all of our dragons are eating whatever it is, I’d be more worried about Snotlout. He’s been acting different,” Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, having a feeling that if Astrid looked at the alternative, she would become frustrated at what she learned or didn’t learn for that matter. The more he got to know about Jackson, the more he found himself confused and exasperated. Not at the Druid—well mostly not at him—but at the situations the boy somehow always found himself in.

“Guys, you got to try this! It’s… It’s… It’s… the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” Fishlegs peered out from the doorway, holding a bowl to his chest protectively.

“Fishlegs, we’ve had yak butter parfaits before,” the Head of the Academy groaned, feeling the events of the day—prolonged too far into the night—finally catching up to him. The adrenaline in his system was running thin and he could feel the fatigue creeping back into his limbs. However, the prospect of sitting down was more than enough to lure him into the hut.

“I’m not talking about the yak butter parfaits; I’m talking about this stew. It’s fantastic,” the heavyset Viking said around a spoonful of the stew, moving out of the doorway to let the other two Dragon Riders in.

There was a loud thump and then a strangled yelp. “My Stew!”

Not even a second later, Jackson came running down the roof and jumped. His staff caught on the main support beam and the Druid flew a bit outwards before swinging back, landing on the stone step. Unhooking his staff, the crystal jingled as he ran past Fishlegs and into the hut shouting.

“Snotlout! You’re not giving all my stew away, I hope! I haven’t even gotten a bowl yet!”

“Ya snooze, ya lose,” Snotlout jeered from somewhere inside, followed by a thump and a triumphant cry. The three glanced at each other, Fishlegs hugging his bowl closer to his chest and headed back inside. Either to keep them from fighting or get some more stew before it was gone, it wasn’t quite clear. Not knowing what else to do, Hiccup followed the sounds of a scuffle indoors.

The inside of the hut reminded the blacksmith’s apprentice a little of the smithy, only it wasn’t metal sewn across the place but furs and leathers. Fishlegs was sitting at the table littered with tools of Finn’s trade and half-finished leathers and furs. A pot of what Hiccup could only assume was this amazing stew bubbled away over the fire and in the middle of it all was Snotlout lying face down on the floor. Jackson was sitting on his back with a bowl of stew in one hand and his staff in the other, applying pressure to Snotlout’s hand currently not pinned underneath his own body.

“I believe it is you who have lost,” the Druid proclaimed loudly before dissolving into a fit of laughter. It was rich and full of life, nothing like Hiccup had ever heard before. The sound made him feel a bit more energized than he had been a few moments prior and his heart felt lighter, less laden by the worries his father and the Academy placed on him.

“I yield! I yield!” the broad-shouldered Viking shouted, not unaffected by the laughter either as, at the end, he too was snickering. Though, it was hard to tell as Snotlout’s words were garbled by the fact his face was pressed into the floor.

“Here Hiccup,” Fishlegs called out, absentmindedly gesturing to the bowls sitting across from him. Moreover, the Gronckle rider appeared to be way too busy savoring every single bite and was completely ignorant of the friendly brawling going on not two feet away from him. It also answered the auburn-haired teenager’s earlier conundrum of whether Fishlegs had come in to watch the fight or eat. He should have known it was the former rather than the latter.

Sitting on the stool, Hiccup slumped down in relief as he took the weight off of his prosthetic foot. Rubbing his leg did little to alleviate the aches and pains he felt, but it did help to some extent. The only way he could reduce the throbbing sores wouldn’t happen unless he took his prosthetic off and allowed the stub time to recuperate. A good night’s sleep would help too, but neither of those options were available to him at the moment. Food, while it wouldn’t help his leg, did sound appealing and Hiccup found himself pulling the bowl closer and searching the table for a spoon, which he found underneath a leather hide.

One bite was all it took. Green eyes widened before fluttering close. He wasn’t even ashamed of the moan of pleasure that passed his lips without his consent.

“I know, right? This is better than anything I’ve ever eaten,” Fishlegs gushed as he scraped the bottom of his bowl and the auburn-haired Dragon Rider couldn’t agree more.

Berk's food was tuff as her people, but it had always been bland and tasteless. This boar stew, however, was anything but. Flavor burst through his mouth with every bite and the meat, oh Odin’s beard, the meat! Tender and juicy which somehow covered up the gamey texture boar always seemed to have. Soon, before he even knew it, his bowl was empty and Hiccup found himself asking if there was any more.

“Not much,” Jackson answered as he came and sat down next to him with Snotlout taking the seat across from the brunet. A hard look was directed towards the burly Viking as he ate the stew with a smirk on his face causing the Druid’s glare to harden. “Someone has been eating it all and there is only enough left for two bowls, which are for the others.”

“Not my fault it’s so good,” the Monstrous Nightmare rider spoke around his mouthful of stew, spraying a few drops of broth across a half-tanned leather. “Besides, you can just make more later.”

“You made this?” vivid green eyes focused on the slender brunet. He wondered what other surprises he had yet to uncover about Jackson and watched the younger teenager intently as he blew on the steaming liquid in his spoon before slowly taking a sip.

“Well, yeah. I know it’s not the best compared to what my mom could whip up at the snap of her fingers, but it’s better than what they serve in the Great Hall,” Jackson mumbled quietly as he fished around his bowl for another spoonful. His other hand was twitching, running up and down the length of his staff propped up against his shoulder.

“No!” Hiccup hurried to cut off the Druid’s ramblings—which was echoed by the other two Dragon Riders at the table—and put a stop to him brushing off his talents. He was going to keep his earlier vow to help heal the wounds left on Jackson’s spirit, even if he had to go against the brunet himself to do so. “This is great. Thank you for sharing.”

“Is it ever,” Fishlegs agreed, mourning over his now empty bowl and eyeing the bowl next to the auburn-haired Dragon Rider.

“See, they agree. Finnster and I aren’t being biased,” Snotlout slurped up the rest of his broth.

“Thanks,” the Druid mumbled, ducking his head to the side to hide the light flush of color across his cheeks. He was only partly successful; the others couldn’t have seen it but Hiccup sure did. Jackson only turned back when the color had dissipated, the glare back in full force directed at Snotlout. “That doesn’t mean you’re getting any more stew. The rest is still for Finn and Astrid.”

“Where is Finnster anyways?” blue eyes swept over the area before looking towards the door as if that would make him appear.

“Astrid didn’t come in either,” Fishlegs pointed out, a not-so-subtle hand reaching out to the full bowl of stew next to the auburn-haired teenager.

“They’re probably busy catching up with each other,” Hiccup remarked, absentmindedly rubbing his leg again while using his other hand to slide the bowl out of the heavyset Viking’s reach.

“One of us should probably go get them,” Jackson said in between small bites.

“I—" Snotlout started only to be cut off by the other brunet.

“And thank you for volunteering, Snotlout,” the Druid acknowledged, not bothering to look over at the Viking with his mouth hanging open.

“But—"

“—Nothing,” the Monstrous Nightmare rider had the same amount of success as he did the first time as Jackson once more shut him down. Hiccup thought his cousin was going to explode at the other brunet or cross his arms and refused to comply like he had done so many times with him.

“Fine,” Snotlout bit out—much to the Head of the Dragon Academy’s amazement—defeatedly.

“Excellent.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused, pushing his stool back and standing up.

“Immensely,” Jackson smiled into his bowl as he drank the last few dregs of the broth. The broad-shouldered Viking stopped halfway to the door and opened his mouth to say something. However, he appeared to think better of it and closed his mouth, heading out the door with only mutters under his breath.

Once he was out of sight, Fishlegs felt secure enough to talk about Snotlout behind his back. “He’s been very moody lately.”

“One tends to do that when the anniversary of one’s mother’s death is coming up,” the Druid abruptly pushed his stool back and stood up, a slight edge to his voice.

The heavyset Viking clasped his hands over his mouth as his eyes went wide, darting to Hiccup for confirmation. However, the teenager didn’t notice, too busy slamming his head down on the table, making the bowl beside him vibrate. A groan escaped his throat as his head started to throb in time with his leg.

“Odin's beard, I forgot the anniversary of Aunt Vanadís’s death.”

“Aunt? You’re cousins?” Jackson paused before gathering the dirty bowl next to Hiccup’s head.

“Uh, yeah, his mother was my dad’s little sister,” Hiccup lifted his head and watched the Druid place the dirty dishes into a large pot filled with water. For a moment, he'd forgotten who he was talking to, since most everyone knew his whole life story better than he did himself and only a foreigner like Jackson wouldn’t have a clue, seeing how most people didn’t talk about it in fear of Spitelout’s retribution.

“That explains so much,” the brunet paused washing the dishes, looking upwards with a thoughtful expression on his face, “pseudo-sibling rivalry.” He began scrubbing the bowls again, not even bothering to turn around a beat later when he added, “Fishlegs, you take another step towards that stew and you’ll be walking back to the village and from experience, it takes a week on foot to get there.”

A meek yelp sounded from behind him as a bowl clattered to the floor.


“She’s a beaut,” Finn praised running his hand over the glowing yellow scales. “You’ve done good, Lass.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it,” Astrid grinned, thrilled that she could share this with her uncle. “When we get back to Berk, I can show you what Stormfly can really do.”

“Lass,” the hunter sighed, letting his hand fall away from the Deadly Nadder to turn to face the shieldmaiden. Stormfly chirped at the loss of contact and when she saw there wouldn’t be more to come from either of the blondes, she scampered off to join the other dragons in exploring the little area of bliss.

“You are coming back to Berk with us,” Astrid cut him off, her voice raising an octave higher with a desperate tone. “We defeated the Flightmare, it’s gone for good and… and… and we can prove you didn’t freeze! It was the Flightmare’s spray that paralyzed you and we can prove it. The Hoffersons’ family honor will be restored. Your honor will be restored!”

“Oh Lass, do you think I left because my honor was besmirched?” Finn softly spoke, slowly shaking his head. “It had nothing to do with my honor. I know I did my best; I did what was right, but that wasn’t why I left. I left because I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the gossip and I let what other people said get to me to the point where I didn’t know who I was. I felt my only option was to leave to find myself again. I was acting like a coward—"

NO! You Weren’t,” Astrid raised her voice, taking a step back, and shook her head vigorously. “You Are Not A Coward. You Are NOT!

The older Hofferson dropped to his knees so that he wasn't looking down at his niece. Carefully, he whipped a lone teardrop from the corner of her blue eyes and enveloped her in a crushing hug. They stayed like that for some time, Finn letting the girl silently sob until she ran out of tears.

“Lass, listen to me. I know it hurts to have your hero knocked down from the pedestal you’ve erected for them, but Astrid, My Sweet Niece,” the Viking pulled Astrid away from him and looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m only human; I make mistakes, just like everyone else. You understand?”

Sniffling, the shieldmaiden nodded her head, wiping the remaining tears away with her arm. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Good, that’s my Lass,” Finn dragged her in for another quick hug. “Now let’s go in and get something to eat before Snotlout eats all the stew.”

“Sounds good,” Astrid took a deep breath and took a moment to compose herself. She stilled in the middle of brushing out her hair and gazed at her uncle, tilting her head to the side. “Just one more question; how did you meet Snotlout?”

“Laddie brought him over about a week ago with that dragon of his,” Finn sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head.

“Hey, Finnster! Jackson wants you to come on in,” Snotlout shouted out from the doorway, using one of his fingers to clean his ear.

“Sometimes I wish the Laddie hadn’t,” the hunter groaned, placing his head in hand.

“That’s something we can both agree on,” Astrid giggled as they made their way inside.


Stoick and Gobber waited all night for the Flightmare's arrival. Currently, the chief was patrolling one side of the village with a few of the sentinels and volunteers while Gobber kept a lookout at the outermost hut nearest to the Northern Swap. Grump was supposed to pace the perimeter with a few of the volunteers. However, the dragon had fallen asleep in the middle of his rounds and wasn’t stirring. They'd all quickly agreed to let Grump sleep when he spewed a vat of lava at the last person who attempted to rouse him.

At the moment, Stoick was heading towards the blacksmith’s outpost to relieve him for the night. The exhaustion plaguing him fueled his displeasure when he caught sight of Gobber. It would seem like dragon, like rider for he was sound asleep on a stool set up next to the sleeping Boulder-class dragon and he appeared to have been that way for some time.

“Gobber!” Stoick gritted out sternly as he marched towards the sleeping Viking, yet the blacksmith didn’t even stir. He did start drooling though.

“Oh, that yak butter melts in my mouth,” Gobber muttered in his sleep, causing the drool to intensify.

“Wake up!” the chief bellowed loudly but even that wasn’t enough to wake the sleeping blacksmith. Gobber just grumbled, a drop of drool falling from his lips, landing on the Boulder-class dragon underneath him. Grump jerked up at the sensation, knocking the stool out from underneath his rider and startling the man awake.

Going from sleep to alert, the blond Viking picked up the axe resting by his side and jumped to his feet, looking around for what had woken him. Upon noticing Stoick, Gobber let out an uneasy laugh, lowering the axe while using his hook to scratch his head just below the helmet.

If anything, his next comment made the chief even angrier than he already was. “Sorry, Stoick. I had this dream. You and me were—"

“Not another word,” the chief breathed out through clenched teeth, silently counting down to ten. When he reached seven, glowing orb of light that did not belong to Aurvandil's Fire caught his eye, drawing his attention towards the gleaming mass coming their way. “Sound the alarm. The Flightmare is coming.”

As Gobber sounded the horn, the volunteer Vikings ran towards the nearest huts to alert their sleeping occupants to take cover while the sentinels began blowing their own horns. The signal would have Berk’s army rallying together to fight the Flightmare. Stoick grabbed the blacksmith’s axe from where it had fallen in Gobber's haste to sound the alarm and ran towards the incoming danger.

“Thor's hammer! There's more than one of them,” the chief watched as the dot came closer and broke off into four individual dots. Hefting his weapon higher, Stoick prepared himself to take on the dragons or die trying to defend his tribe.

“Wait, Stoick!” Gobber shouted, noticing something familiar about the dots taking shape and threw the horn to the side. Running after his friend, the blond Viking reached him in time to catch the weapon with his hook before the bigger Viking could throw it. “Those aren't Flightmares!”

The chief had to squint to make out what Gobber was blabbering on about, but the slight hesitation gave him all the time he needed to see the dots grow to the familiar shapes of the Dragon Training Academy’s dragons—less a Hideous Zippleback—and they were all glowing a myriad of different colors. None of which were the familiar, but frightening neon blue glow associated with the Flightmare. The closest being a darker blue which had the distinct shape of a Night Fury.

“Hiccup, slap me in the face. Your dragons are glowing. I must still be dreaming,” Gobber’s gobsmacked expression matched that of the chief’s as the group of dragons landed before the small crowd forming in response to the alarms.

“Gobber, you're wide awake. And they are glowing. Long story,” Hiccup pacified the restless crowd, unhooking his harness and dismounting Toothless. Jackson, after giving the dragon a slight pat, climbed off after him and stood to the side as the Head of the Academy addressed the growing crowd. “The good news is we drove the Flightmare away.”

“You did?” Stoick asked, running his hand through his beard. When he received affirmative nods from the rest of the teenagers, the chief dropped the weapon to the ground and threw up his arms in joy. “Well done, Hiccup! Well done! Everyone! You can come out of your homes! The Flightmare is gone for good.”

“Excuse me,” the auburn-haired teenager worked to garner the attention of the Vikings as more people began to pour out of their homes and into the street. “I have an announcement to make. We learned a lot about the Flightmare tonight and I will explain it all to you. But the important thing we learned was that Fearless Finn Hofferson was indeed fearless, just like all the Hoffersons.”

There was silence and then the crowd erupted into a loud cheering mass.

“Sounds like you did your uncle proud, lass,” Gobber praised the shieldmaiden, walking up to Astrid as she dismounted Stormfly.

“Actually, my uncle did me proud,” the Deadly Nadder rider turned towards Hookfang where Finn Hofferson was awkwardly climbing off the Monstrous Nightmare’s back. “It was him and Snotlout that drove off the Flightmare.”

“Is that?”

“It is!”

“It’s Fearless Finn Hofferson!” some Viking in the crowd shouted, catching sight of the large man who had the crowd falling silent.

“He drove the Flightmare away?” another Viking asked as a wave of whispers broke out.

“He saved us!” a shieldmaiden shouted, intensifying the wave of whispers into an all-out eruption of noise.

“I didn’t save you,” Finn addressed the crowd who went silent, yet there were still murmurs going through them. He looked over at Jackson who was rolling his eyes before jerking his head towards the Dragon Riders. Catching on, he turned back towards the crowd. “Not alone. It was with the help of Snotlout and the other Dragon Riders that I was able to drive off the Flightmare.”

The crowd cheered once more.

“Now, maybe we can just enjoy Aurvandil's Fire,” Stoick joined his son and stared up at the sky. Hiccup smiled and followed his father’s example, gazing up at the brilliant display in the sky. Aurvandil's Fire really was a beautiful sight to behold, one to enjoy the loveliness of nature and not something to be feared.

The twins’ whining ruined the moment. “Hey, I want a glowing dragon.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ruffnut complained.

Notes:

I meant to mention this last chapter, but I have officially writing 45 of the 50 chapters after months of not working on the new chapters (YES! Finally, stupid writer's block) and have the outline for the other 4 chapters written. I'm just having problems coming up with the ending chapter. Other than that, from this chapter to chapter 45, all that needs to be done is editing because in the outlining/writing process I tend to be horrid with grammar (even more so) in addition to forgetting having missing words which causes the sentences to make no sense whatsoever.

So, yeah, expect regular updates!

P.S. Could someone come up with a banner for this story? Doesn't have to be anything too fancy, I just want a banner saying "Soul of a Druid". I will admit I'm not art/technology savvy and have no idea how to go about creating one. I'll happily give create to anyone who makes me one (and maybe tell me how to insert it in the first chapter itself instead of just using a link). Please?

Chapter 24: Worst Competitive Streak

Notes:

Gahhh! You make me all want to cry with your inspiring reviews, which is what is keeping my attention focused on this story instead of one of the many other plot bunnies running around in my head before they are eventually eaten by rogue foxes of indifference. (That happened to my BvS:DoJ series I was working on…Oops?)

Higurashirose: I hope your parents aren't mad at you for waking them up at 1am squealing, I know how that goes (in my defense, it was the final chapter in a story I'd been waiting on for months). They usually give you strange looks for days on end afterwards.

Chapter Text

Jack was back in the village. After a week on the road with the Hoffersons, he couldn’t help but feel different. His short time in the wilderness reminded the brunet of his time as a spirit. Out there, it was open and welcoming. The air was full of fragrance and earthly tones while the village smelled stale at the best of times and repugnant at the worst.  The winds weren’t as playful or responsive due to the buildings stifling their movements. Something which the Druid knew a lot about since he was the only one the winds could complain to about being inhibited by the weird human-made structures.

On the other hand, the village was noisy and crowded—although, nothing like the future would be—compared to the soft chirping of birds and dragons. The ex-spirit couldn’t go very far without accidentally running into someone if he wasn’t paying attention and after years of being walked through, most would assume he would be thrilled at even the slightest bit of physical contact. They would have been wrong.

Jack quickly came to realize that even the slightest contact with people sent his heart racing. The first time it happened, Toothiana had laid a congratulatory hand on his shoulder after he’d taken the Oath of a Guardian, startling him so badly the Tooth Fairy thought she’d hurt him. The eternal teenager played it off as him drifting off from exhaustion and she had seemed to believe him, but her shimmering pink eyes had held a touch of doubt.  

He had a feeling Sandy might have suspected something too because he would use Dreamsand to alert the immortal teenager to his presence.  It also gave him ample time to move out of the way if he didn’t want to be touched. Thanks to the Guardian of Dreams, Jack was better about tolerating people touching him without any violent reactions on his part, but only when he was expecting it. However, he was still extremely uncomfortable when anyone touched him without his knowledge and unless he initiated the contact himself, he rarely felt comfortable.

Heck, before his whole Viking Vacation into the past, he still jumped whenever one of the other Guardians entered his personal space. The only ones who could get away with invading his space and touching Jack without a violent reaction were the children. Which meant, that upon entering the village, Jack had a momentary lapse and just about came out of his skin when one of the adults had brushed up against him. He had believed, just for a moment, he was invisible again. That it was just the winds and him once more, exploring and enjoying the world together.

Regardless, things were different, and not just on Berk. The winds were different. They were not the comforting mentors constantly at his side since he’d first risen from his would-be watery grave all those years ago. Years in the future now. These winds were younger than he ever remembered, more childlike than the aged winds whose wisdom he had relied upon for centuries.  They were like new friends instead of longtime allies, something he sorely missed.

"Laddie,” Finn’s voice brought Jack out of his thoughts and into the present where the Viking was hauling all of his meager belongings in a rickety wooden cart. Seeing that he had the boy’s attention, Finn set down the handles of the cart and waved to the village before them. “Why don't you go and take some time for yourself?"

Yet the too-sharp smile—too fake, Jack’s mind supplied—on the tall blond’s face had the brunet realizing Finn was unnerved. The Hofferson’s blue eyes were busy taking in all the changes to the village since he had left over a decade ago and hadn't had the chance to notice on the night they had dealt with the Flightmare. After Finn had briefed the chief about the events revolving around the Flightmare, he politely asked Astrid to take him and an empty cart back to his hut up in the mountains.

The shieldmaiden hadn’t wanted to comply until she realized he intended to pack up his belongings and move back to the village. Then she quickly obeyed and Jack volunteered his assistance. Hiccup had jumped to help Finn as well and had flown the ex-spirit back to the small paradise while Finn flew with Astrid. Together, the four of them had collected all Finn's personal belongings from the hut and cleared out the remaining stores in the cave.

With the cart fully loaded, the dragons couldn’t lift it without losing some of the carefully balanced items inside. For that reason, Finn decided it best to take the long way back to the village to prevent losing any of his belongings. It had nothing to do with not having to ride Stormfly again or so he assured his niece. The Guardian thought differently but didn’t say anything.

Astrid chose to make the trip down the mountain with her uncle. Hiccup—who had to be back in the village by morning—couldn’t make the journey on foot with the Hoffersons as he would have liked but left with a promise to check up on them the next day. Jack declined the Night Fury rider’s offer to return with him and elected to stay with the Hoffersons. It was a good thing too since Fishlegs found them not four days later with a message from Camicazi forcing the shieldmaiden to leave their little traveling caravan to assist her mother in selling some of their newly hatched chicklets at the market.

The trip also allowed the ex-spirit to become better acquainted with the younger Hofferson. Jack had to admit, Astrid might have been wound a little tight but she knew how to have fun. On their first day of travel, the shieldmaiden offhandedly challenged him to a race around their campsite in the morning. Jack won, after all, racing the winds did have its advantage. Since then, they had a race each morning with the brunet always coming out on top. Although, the last race they had was pretty close and Finn had decided it was the brunet who had won by a leg.

Jack didn’t mind the blonde teenager’s vast improvement. He was the one teaching her a few new moves to even the playing field. Then again, Astrid had been the one to ask how to do a kip-up and he had been happy to teach her. It had just spiraled out from there.

Hiccup and Toothless kept their promise and stopped by, but it wasn’t a one-time deal. The two continued to come by each evening. Finn questioned the auburn-haired Viking about it, but he’d brushed it off as him spotting them during their evening flights and dropping in to make sure there hadn’t been any trouble. The Guardian, however, thought it had something to do with him wanting to check up on Astrid. Regardless of the real reason, it was kind of him to bring them some food on each of his visits and they chattered for a while before the Night Fury duo had to head back.

It was rather odd to Jack and he was confused by the sudden attention the two Dragon Riders were giving him. Sure, Hiccup and him helped each other out in the smithy and there was that one time the auburn-haired teenager offered to help him collect herbs—granted, Hiccup did try to cancel on him in favor of the training drill on Dragon Island—but they weren’t exactly friends.  At least, the ex-spirit didn’t think they were friends.  Were they?  

Either way, he was hard-pressed to explain either Hiccup's or Astrid’s sudden friendliness towards him, especially since they hadn’t thought him capable enough to handle going with them to help cure Hookfang.

"Yeah, and let you get lost in the village. I'd rather not have to spend my evening looking for you," the brunet shook his head, bringing himself out of his vexing musings—that had him confused for the last few days—once more.

For someone who lived in the wilderness for a decade, Finn sure had a horrible sense of direction. It was only thanks to the winds heralding the immortal teenager away from an imminent fall to their deaths that they were even alive. Even then, it was a near thing and Stormfly was forced to catch Finn when he did walk off the cliff while reassuring the two teenagers they were indeed heading in the right direction. Since then, Jack and Astrid had taken turns to guide them down the mountains.

"I'll be fine, go on," Finn reassured pushing his much smaller traveling companion forward with only the barest of nudges. Jack turned and gave the Viking his most unimpressed look. "Besides, Gobber volunteered to help me reacquaint myself with the village and offered me a place to stay."

A single brown eyebrow rose up into matching locks of hair, a slight grin twitching to life on his lips. "You're not lying to get rid of me, are you? Sick of me after spending a whole week with me?"

"Laddie, if I wasn't sick of you after spending all of Devastating Winter cooped up with just you and that dragon, I can certainly say spending a week with you was definitely no hardship. But I am telling the truth," Finn laughed, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder but clumsily aborted the action. Instead, he ran his hand through his long straight beard. It would seem Sandy wasn’t the only one who knew about his aversion to touch but was too nice to say anything.

"Ah, there you are. I wasn't expecting you until later this evening," Gobber called out, hobbling towards them. His hook caught on the side of someone's cart as he waved it wildly about and he ended up getting it stuck. A few quick forceful pulls had the hook coming free and the blacksmith stumbling backwards into another Viking. The other Viking just pushed him away with a disgruntled scowl that Gobber didn’t notice, too preoccupied with staring at Finn with a sheepish look across his face.

"See, I was telling the truth," the hunter rounded on Jack, a gleeful smile on his face. "Now, get going you. You're young, go have some fun."

"Fun is my specialty," the eternal teenager remarked, grinning at his own inside joke, and conceded to the Viking’s demands. “See you later, Finn. Hi, Gobber! Bye, Gobber!”

Knowing Finn couldn’t get lost with the blacksmith by his side, Jack headed off. Pulling the hood of his cloak down, he looked around not too sure what to do with himself. Gobber was obviously out of the forge so that either left it closed or Hiccup was manning it alone. That was if he and the other members of the Dragon Training Academy were already finished with their training exercises for the day. If they were finished, the immortal teenager couldn’t hang out with the twins, not knowing where they would be wreaking havoc today. Neither could he go bother Astrid as she was still helping her mother with the chicklets and Snotlout was probably busy training at this hour.

It was still pretty early in the day, which meant the children would be busy with their chores so he couldn't preoccupy himself by entertaining them with stories. The faeries wouldn't come out to the village unless he truly needed their help—they didn't like being seen by those who didn't believe—and him being bored didn't count. That only left Fishlegs as someone he knew but he didn't truly know the boy all that well, so he didn’t feel right bugging the heavyset Viking.

"Hey, do you have any ideas on what to do?” the ex-spirit inquired, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back to look up into the cloud-covered sky. He didn’t notice the Vikings around him glance at him oddly as he appeared to be talking to himself. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared anyways.

The winds came up from behind him without any kind of answer but just a joyful laugh. Jack frowned, wondering what had them so amused, which was when he ran smack-dab into someone. The laughter in the air increased a few folds and the immortal teen wondered if this was how the winds of his time felt when he played juvenile pranks for his own amusement. After a few more sniggers, the winds pulled on his clothing in an attempt to see if he was alright seeing how he hadn’t moved after the collision.

“I think I’ll just lay here for a bit,” Jack answered the winds' worried queries, gazing up at the clouds. His view was obstructed a second later as a wet tongue lapped at his face. “Oomph!”

“Toothless!” Hiccup’s voice called out from behind the mass of black scales. In the next second, the auburn-haired teenager was in front of him, pulling the Night Fury off of him. “I am so sorry. He usually… Jackson?”

“Hi, Hiccup. Hi, Toothless,” the brunet greeted the pair from his position sprawled out on the street in the middle of what was clearly an intersection if he had bothered to pay attention.

“I didn’t think you’d be back until this evening,” Hiccup moved back, giving Jack enough room for his kip-up. The ex-spirit didn’t disappoint and was soon standing, brushing off the dirt from the mantle of his cloak.

“Took a little shortcut, knocked half a day off our travel,” Jack explained as he finished brushing off all the grime. His amber eyes then found vibrant green and he smiled, leaning his weight against his staff. “So, how did your rescue training exercises go? Or is that where you’re headed? Ooh, can I play the rescuee?”

“No, no. Just coming back from that actually and trust me, you didn’t want to be the rescuee,” the Head of the Dragon Academy grimaced and the ex-spirit knew he was thinking about everything that had gone wrong with the rescue drill.

“That bad?” Jack probed, curious to know what had occurred to cause the Viking’s face to contort in such a way. Toothless bumped his head against the brunet’s free hand and the Druid rubbed the dragon’s head absentmindedly watching as his rider’s face went through an array of emotions and finally settled on lackluster.

“Snotlout knocked the head off our dummy and then set it on fire,” the Dragon Rider dully offered, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even further than it already was.

“Ouch,” the immortal teen winced in sympathy for the dummy, his hand falling away from Toothless’s head as he focused his complete attention on the dragon’s rider. “It couldn’t have all been that bad, right?”

“It was,” Hiccup groaned as the Night Fury came around to his side and begged for attention from him seeing how the brunet was no longer petting him. He was rewarded with a scratch behind his ear-plate and a quick pat.

“How so?” Jack asked turning the corner, following Toothless who had taken the lead now that there was no one paying him any attention.

“It’s the others. They got it in their heads that competition is the very essence of life itself or something like that. But we’re supposed to be a team. Everyone has their own role. No one person is better or more important than another,” the auburn-haired teenager’s voice rose and he began gesturing his arms around forcefully, getting it all off his chest in one outburst.

The Guardian let him rant; allowing him to unwind somewhat because he really wasn’t going to like what Jack had to say. “Hate to say it Hiccup, but they are right. Competition is good for a group, keeps the members motivated and working to better themselves to prevent being left behind. It also helps stimulate new ideas and keeps things from being repetitive.”

“But—," Hiccup was completely prepared to defend his side but the ex-spirit didn’t give him the chance.

“—but, you are right too,” Jack continued as if the Viking hadn't spoken, gracefully stepping out of the way of a woman holding two sheep on her shoulders. “You are a team, everyone has their roles to fulfill and each is important in their own way. Competition is good only so long as it is friendly and fun and not taken too seriously. Otherwise, it can lead to inner team fighting. There’s a balance there which just needs to be maintained, that’s all.”

The chief’s son was quiet for a moment. “I never thought of it that way. You and your Druid ways of balance just have to make sense, doesn’t it? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

“Me and my Druid ways? Wait, what won’t be so bad?” the immortal teenager asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. This was turning out to be interesting, especially with their former topic. There was some kind of competition afoot which had a high probability of being fun. Now if he could only find a way to join.

“Don’t exactly know, but Fishlegs is setting up something to prove who is the better dragon trainer on equal fields,” Hiccup dashed the Guardian of Fun’s idea of participating in the competition. Well, not as a contestant anyways.

“Cool, can I be the judge?”

Green eyes glanced over at him, definitely taking in how he was vibrating with excitement at the prospect of being included. “Uh, sure; if the others don’t mind that is. They should be at the Academy now, if you want to ask them yourself.”

“Great! Let’s go then! Toothless, lead us to the Dragon Academy!” Jack spoke up and the Night Fury, who let out a trill and changed directions to head in the direction of the requested destination. Turning back to the Dragon Rider, a frown covered his face. “Where were we headed before?”

“I—," Hiccup started, looking around their surroundings and finding the same thing the ex-spirit had taken notice of a few moments prior. They were nowhere near where they’d run into each other and they could have been walking in circles for all Jack knew. “—have no idea. This is what we get for letting Toothless lead.”

“Well, he’s doing a pretty good job of leading us to the Academy now,” the brunet shrugged. He didn’t train dragons and if the teenager who did train dragons beside him didn’t know where the Night Fury was leading them, he wasn’t going to dwell on it. It wasn’t his expertise.

True to Hiccup’s prediction, the rest of the Dragon Riders were at the Academy. Most of them were scattered around the area, standing in various spots around the field and throwing quick glances to the middle where Fishlegs stood with a large wooden container at his feet. Jack soon found out why when his eyes were drawn to the crate as it wobbled on its own and a few odd noises came from within.

“Good, we’re all here. Now we can begin,” Fishlegs started when he caught sight of the Head of the Academy walking through the entrance. Not giving anyone the chance to say a thing, let alone greet the newly returned Druid, the heavyset Viking gestured for them all to converge around the crate.

Snotlout did nod a greeting to the brunet as he made his way toward the rumbling crate which had Jack using the hook of his staff to salute back. Astrid too gave him a quick grin as they fell into step with one another that he readily returned. However, the twins weren’t all that subtle in their greetings, waving at him which ended up dissolving into a slapping fight between the two when they kept on hitting each other. The fight came to an end when Fishlegs removed the lid of the crate with a flourish to reveal six small dragons.

“Terrible Terrors? This is your level playing field?” the brunet Viking asked incredulously, eyebrows disappearing beneath his helmet and Jack had to agree with his doubt. However, his doubt steamed from the fact those little critters seemed to have it out for him.

“As a matter of fact, yes. We'll all choose a Terrible Terror and have a day to train it. And then we'll find out who's the best,” Fishlegs replied, a proud smile splitting his face in two for coming up with such a brilliant idea.

Snotlout burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter after the heavyset Viking was done explaining the idea for the competition. He was laughing so hard that he started to slap his knees as he fought to get a breath of air. Jack, on the other hand, thought the contest sounded like a great idea. He would have preferred it if they had used a different type of dragon. His concern was proven correct when a green Terrible Terror spotted him slowly inching his way back—apparently, he should have gone with the get the hell out of Dodge approach instead of the slow stealthy withdrawal he had been going for—and proceeded to launch itself at the immortal teenager.

“Gah!” Jack yelped as the little guy wrapped his front paws around his neck and proceeded to sing. He tried to pull the Terrible Terror off him, yet that only made the dragon cling on tighter, he even tried to climb down the front of his white shirt.

The other Terrible Terrors looked towards the commotion and they too flew at the flailing Guardian when they spotted him. Toothless—and how could Jack ever think of him as a black menace when he was clearly a savior was beyond him—jumped before the struggling brunet, firing a warning blast at the small flock that had them dispersing. It didn’t stop the Terrible Terrors though as they flew in various directions, all heading back towards their original target.

Thankfully, the rest of the Dragon Riders had the good sense to pluck a dragon from the air and hold on to them, preventing them from going after Jack. While the Dragon Academy members captured the loose Terrible Terrors, Hiccup provided the brunet assistance in prying the little green dragon off of him, much to the immortal teenager’s everlasting appreciation.

“Oh, man. I can't keep a straight face,” Snotlout’s laughter once more rang out through the arena. “Finn wasn’t lying when he said Terrible Terrors go after you. Just wasn’t in the way I imagined.”

“I fail to see the humor, Snotlout,” Jack grumbled as he rearranged his cloak on his shoulders while keeping his distance from the green Terrible Terror trying to claw his way out of Hiccup’s arms all the while looking right at him. “And if anyone’s Terrible Terror flies at me like that again, they are automatically disqualified!”

“And that is up to you why?” Astrid asked, struggling to keep ahold of the aqua-colored terror in her arms.

“I told him he could judge the contest. He would be an impartial judge. If that's okay with you guys,” Hiccup explained, fighting with the Terrible Terror in his arms. Toothless, the savior he was, walked over to his rider’s side and growled at the small dragon. When that didn’t get the dragon to calm down, a charge began to build up in warning which had the Terrible Terror calming down.

“Seems fair to me,” Snotlout grimaced as the purple Terrible Terror latched onto his arm—thankfully over his arm bracer—by his teeth and didn’t seem to be letting go any time soon.

“Agreed,” the twins said in unison, head-butting each other. The action also resulted in their yellow Terrible Terrors banging heads together as well, knocking the dragons out and putting an end to their struggling. Both of them then held up the limp yellow dragons to eye level and looked them over. Not to make sure they were alright as Jack would have thought but to trade the identical dragons with one another.

“Well, I guess,” Fishlegs agreed hesitantly and the ex-spirit could tell he was not happy his contest was being taken over when it really wasn’t. Jack was only the judge to prevent favoritism and the Gronckle rider had already laid out the rules, so it was still his contest.

Luckily, the orange Terrible Terror in his arms began fighting for its freedom, diverting the heavyset Viking’s attention elsewhere before any protests could be brought up.

“It’s settled then, Jackson will be our judge,” Astrid nodded, flashing him a smile which was returned.

“This is going to be fun!” the Guardian of Fun all but jumped up and down, giddy with anticipation. “Okay, we’ll meet up tomorrow at midday for the judging. In the meantime, I’ll stop by to check on each of you to see your progress and provide some advice.”

“Sounds fair,” Hiccup nodded in agreement, clearly relieved the competition wasn’t going as horribly as he envisioned. He would have continued, but the one facet of competition that seemed to be mandatory between high-spirited individuals finally bubbled to the surface. Jack had expected it, but he knew the auburn-haired teenager definitely was not going to appreciate the trash talk.

“You don't have a chance to win this, Fish-Face, and you want to know why? Because there are readers, and there are doers. And while you've got your nose buried in The Book of Dragons, I'm out there kicking names and taking butts,” Snotlout boasted and the ex-spirit had to hide his smile so Hiccup wouldn’t notice and disapprove. He was marveled by the brunet Viking, for a boy who had such a demanding but absentee father, he’d surrounded himself with a good group of friends that kept him grounded while he pushed them to do their best.

“I think you meant that the other way around,” Astrid corrected, handing her aqua-colored Terrible Terror to Stormfly to keep the little menace from escaping and going after the ex-spirit.

“I mean… shut up, Astrid,” Snotlout flailed, trying to figure out what he had gotten wrong in the middle of his trash talk, and ended up conceding when he figured he’d already been bested in the little verbal play by the shieldmaiden.

“Uh, guys, come on,” Hiccup tried to defuse the situation that—in Jack’s opinion—did not need defusing.

There was the right amount of friendly competition mixed with discord to keep things alive and exciting while pushing each other to do their best to outdo one another. It reminded Jack of the race to collect teeth with the other Guardians which had ended up with him coming in last. Not that he cared, he had more fun during their race than he had in a long time, having someone to compete with other than the winds had been nice.

“I'll tell you what, Snotlout. You're so confident in your dragon training superiority why don't we make this interesting?” Fishlegs challenged, moving the orange Terrible Terror under his arm so he could point at the dark-haired Viking.

“Pff. All ears,” Snotlout shot back while Jack began to wonder about the brunet Viking’s pain tolerance. For throughout the whole conversation, his purple Terrible Terror was still hanging off of his arm and there was only so much protection his leather bracer separating the tiny dragon’s teeth from his arm provided. Yet, Snotlout hadn’t done more than wince and groan once when the little guy’s jaw attempted to clamp down tighter.

“Losers clean the winner's stall,” the Gronckle rider offered as if it was the worst inconvenience he could think of. Although, for all the immortal teenager knew, it very well could have been. “For a month.”

“Done,” the Monstrous Nightmare rider agreed without hesitation.

“In,” Astrid was only a second behind with her answer, having to duck out of the way of the twins ramming their helmets together. Everyone took that to mean they were in too.

“Great! I’ll start by giving the twins advice. They’ll need it the most,” Jack offered, having to duck himself to keep the twins’ helmets from ramming into his head. “Afterwards, I’ll visit Snotlout, Fishlegs, Astrid, and then Hiccup in that order. Any complaints?”

The other teens watched as the twins butted their heads together for the third time and quickly agreed with him. Tuffnut and Ruffnut would need more work than all of them combined, which was how the immortal teen found himself leaving with the two Thorstons, but not before Toothless demanded to be petted one last time.

Chapter 25: Best Terrible Terror Show

Notes:

Chapter 25! Half way there! And while this chapter felt a little slow in my opinion, the next one starts to pick things up.

As for Mihas review about Hiccup and Jack already being friends, for Hiccup, he see them as being friends. However, Jack's being his stubborn self and distancing himself from the Dragon Riders to keep from being hurt (300 years alone messed up his self worth and his ability to put his trust in people, but Hiccup's working on it). I tried to convey that through my writing, but I guess I didn't do a good enough job. :(

Higurashirose, no one has called me a word smithy before…it made me smile all day long! Thanks for the uplifting review.

Chapter Text

Jack made sure to arrive at the Academy before the Dragon Riders so as to have enough time to set up. He struggled to move a few of the chests and arranged the target barrels upright to create a makeshift seating area. It didn’t take him long to finish. Less time than he’d anticipated, which left him passing the time in his usual manner while waiting for the others to arrive.

The twins were the first to enter the Academy, surprisingly enough, with their yellow Terrible Terrors riding on their helmets. Barf and Belch lumbered in behind their riders and cocked their heads to opposite sides when they saw the arena had been rearranged. Thankfully, neither Ruffnut nor Tuffnut interrupted him and sat down on one of the empty chests. Double thankfully, their tiny dragons didn’t attack him either. Not like they’d done when he had last seen them.

Next to arrive was Snotlout. His purple dragon hanging by his teeth from one of the Viking helmet’s horns while Fawn rode on the top of the other horn. Hookfang, on the other hand, chose to stay outside the arena. Well, to be more precise, Hookfang was sprawled out over the top of the arena’s chained dome. Stormfly soon joined the Monstrous Nightmare as Astrid and her aqua-green Terrible Terror joined them in the ring.

Toothless was the next to come bounding in. He looked around before sedately walking over to sit next to the Zippleback, joining the little crowd. Hiccup and Fishlegs followed soon after with their tiny dragons in their arms. Regardless of being busy, amber eyes caught Meatlug dolefully trailing behind her rider—carrying a sheep in her mouth for some odd reason—though she didn’t join the other dragons, and sat alone off to the side.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the heavyset Viking asked, looking over the little crowd gathered around Jack. Thankfully, the Druid was finished and Fishlegs didn’t spoil the good part or else they might have had a riot on their hands.

“It is story time,” Ruffnut answered, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “That Jökul Frosti always gets to me.”

“Yeah, he’s almost as cool as Loki with his pranks!” Tuffnut agreed. His own eyes were watery too but he refused to shed a tear.

“I like Jökul Frosti better,” Snuffnut commented, causing the rest of the children to disperse into their own conversations, and gave Jack the opportunity to weave his way through the energetic mass.

“Well, since this is a contest we needed an audience,” the Guardian grinned, answering Fishlegs's earlier question. Turning so he was facing the makeshift stage, Jack’s grin softened as amber eyes swept over the animated children. “They’re going to help me judge you guys, isn’t that right kiddies?”

A cheer went through the masses as a few of them began running around the stage and seating area now there wasn’t anything else going on to retain their attention.

“Great, now that is settled, let’s get settled. While our contestants run through their final preparation with their Terrible Terrors, let’s find our seats!” Jack called out more to the children than the Dragon Riders. The little Vikings were quick to obey the immortal teenager’s order, sitting back down on their makeshift seats and settling down while he walked up and took center stage.

A hush fell over the crowd when the brunet tapped the end of his staff against the ground. Doing his best master of ceremonies impression, the Guardian of Fun began his grandstanding and making over-the-top gestures to entertain the little ones.

“Lasses and Laddies, get ready to be amazed, to see the spectacular and unmatched skills of our very own Dragon Defenders of Berk. Right here, right now, in our first Terrible Terror Train Off. Dragon Riders, prepare yourselves!” Jack commentated twirling his staff around in his hand, the crystal on the end glittering in the light and drawing the children’s attention. He then threw the piece of gnarled wood up in the air earning him a few shouts and caught it in the other hand, pointing towards the closest Dragon Rider. “Our first contestants of the day are Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third and Sharpshot with a guest appearance from the elusive Night Fury: Toothless!”

The ex-spirit departed the stage, making room for the first three competitors. Jack easily spotted Hiccup’s discomfort at being the center of attention—even if they were only children—and ended up dropping one of the carved wooden ducks he was carrying as a result of his hands shaking. He hurried to pick it up, glancing behind him to see if anyone noticed. They had, but the children were too enthralled by the Hero of Berk that none of them cared about the small blunder. It didn’t seem to help the chief’s son any and Jack flashed him a reassuring smile when vivid green eyes landed on him.

The smile, or maybe just having someone to focus on instead of the crowd, appeared to calm Hiccup’s nerves. The auburn-haired teenager proceeded to finish setting up in record time and with a small nod in the brunet’s direction, he was ready to start. He walked over to the other side of the ring and held out his arm. Sharpshot, who had been sitting in the middle of the stage, perked up and scurried over, crawling up the Dragon Rider’s body to perch on the outstretched arm. That alone had the children squealing with glee causing Hiccup to relax further.

“Ready, Toothless?” the Head of the Academy asked and the dragon let out a small chortle of acknowledgment. “Now!” Toothless flapped his wings, launching the four wooden ducks balanced on his wings high up into the air. “Sharpshot, fire!”

The Terrible Terror jumped into the air, rapidly aimed and fired at the targets in quick succession. The four balls of propane flames hit with deadly accuracy, incinerating the wooden ducks. A hand signal to the Night Fury had Toothless shooting off very low-level blasts at different locations skywards. Another signal from Hiccup, this time to Sharpshot, and the little dragon hurled his own blasts a second later. The two blasts met in midair, resulting in tiny fireworks which the Terrible Terror flew through before landing back on the vivid green-eyed Viking’s arm.

There was a moment of silence as the last bit of the fireworks disappeared before the children erupted into cheers and loud clapping. Hiccup was rendered motionless by the applause and didn’t look like he was going to move any time soon, though, with a discreet poke from his staff as Jack passed by the Dragon Rider got him moving. A red flush crossed the auburn-haired teenager’s face as he waved to the crowd—Toothless preening at the attention—while they exited the stage and the Guardian took his place.

“And Hiccup starts the competition off with a bang!” the brunet started speaking, which had the noise dying down. “Now, that we’ve given Hiccup and Sharpshot a round of applause, let’s move on to our next contestant: Astrid Hofferson and her Terrible Terror, Sneaky, with assistance from the Deadly Nadder: Stormfly.”

This time, there were a few cheers and murmurs through the crowd as Jack traded places with the shieldmaiden. The children didn’t seem to hold the same reverence for the Deadly Nadder rider as they did with the Head of the Academy which kept them silent while Hiccup set up. Their quiet murmurs and giggles didn’t seem to deter Astrid any as she took center stage.

“Lads and Lasses, meet Sneaky. Now you see him,” the shieldmaiden addressed the whispering crowd, motioning to the aqua-green Terrible Terror balanced on her metal shoulder pads. “Now you don’t.”

The children squealed when the tiny dragon seemingly disappeared and Jack had to blink a few times himself to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. A squeak had all their attention turning to a little girl who had one hand held over her mouth and the other pointing at Terrorthi’s helmet. For on the little shieldmaiden’s helmet was Sneaky, sitting on one of the horns like he had been there all along. The children crowded around Terrorthi trying to pet the Terrible Terror only for him to disappear again. This time, sitting on top of Snotlout’s helmet where Gustav was the first to point him out, which had the crowd cheering.

“And now for the finale, Sneaky disappear!” Astrid commanded and this time, no one could find the Terrible Terror. Even when the shieldmaiden had the children search for him—and they were thorough in their search, they left no stone unturned—and still couldn’t find him. When they all gave up, the Deadly Nadder rider turned towards the waiting dragon. “Stormfly, track.”

Stormfly let out a chirp and sniffed the ground. Another screech and she flew up into the air, right up to the dome top. Another screech in Hookfang’s face had Sneaky falling out from behind the Monstrous Nightmare’s head and tumbling to the ground. The Terrible Terror caught himself midfall and flew over to Astrid, landing on her shoulder as the children erupted into applause and giggles.

“Thank you,” the shieldmaiden took a bow and exited the makeshift stage. Which was Jack’s cue to make his way to the front; as they crossed paths, she smiled at him and said in a low voice, “Adding Stormfly was a brilliant idea.”

“I do have those occasionally,” the Guardian chuckled before taking the stage and addressing the audience. “Teaching a dragon stealth skills, very impressive Astrid. Wouldn’t you say kiddies?” Jack inquired and they readily agreed with him.   “Next up, we have the Thorston twins, Tuffnut and Ruffnut with their Terrible Terrors: Head and Butt. Also making their debut today is the Hideous Zippleback known as Barf and Belch.”

“Go, Ruff! Go, Tuff!” Snuffnut cheered, standing up and making a big spectacle which earned him thumbs up from his aunt and uncle.

“Let me guess,” Astrid whispered to the brunet as he walked back to stand on the sidelines to watch, “they're gonna run into each other?”

“Not exactly, but it was their idea,” Jack answered with a shrug. During his one-on-one time with the Academy members, he’d offered them advice and an outsider's perspective but only to build on what the Dragon Riders already had in mind. This was their show after all and he was not about to take over. So, while he helped them, he also allowed them to make their own decisions and didn't try to change their minds.

Turning their attention back towards the stage, they watched as the two yellow dragons flew at each other and collided in a classic head-butt. Neither Head nor Butt knocked themselves out this time, which the ex-spirit thought was an improvement over what he had seen yesterday morning. The next part had Ruffnut and Tuffnut directing their respective dragons to fly around the stadium, taking turns head-butting Barf and Belch. Their antics, while not impressive by adult standards, had the children in fits of laughter.

“Well, at least the children like it,” Astrid chuckled before the immortal teenager was weaving his way back to the front of the crowd.

“Thank you Tuffnut, Ruffnut for that unique show,” Jack took his place on stage, twirling his staff in between his fingers as the crystal jingled away.

“It’s our pleasure,” Ruffnut bowed, grabbing Head and squeezing him into her chest. The dragon didn’t seem to mind and nuzzled into the blonde Viking’s embrace.

“Yeah, what she said,” Tuffnut agreed, working to get Butt out from underneath the back of his tunic.

“Yes, well, next up is Fishlegs Ingerman and the spectacular Iggy,” the ex-spirit announced and walked off the stage with the twins, but not without resisting the urge to shake his head. Hiccup caught the action and gave him an inquiring look with a raised eyebrow. Changing directions, he headed over to stand beside the auburn-haired teenager. He was quiet for a few minutes before giving in to his growing concern. “This isn’t going to go well. You know when I said friendly competition was good, right?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup agreed, nodding his head, watching Fishlegs set up for his performance out of the corner of his eyes.

“Well, to him, this certainly isn’t friendly. He’s taking things too seriously, and he's even pushing Meatlug away,” brown locks jerked to the side and vivid green eyes followed the motion, finding the Gronckle lying in the corner furthest away from everyone, curled up in a ball. Her ear-wings were drooped down to the point of being barely visible while her whole body was slumped over, defeated-like. “I saw him push her away this morning when Meatlug brought him a sheep and yesterday, he wouldn’t hear of including her in Iggy’s performance. Like, at all.”

“I knew something was going on last night when I visited him. This was what I was afraid of,” Hiccup groaned, vivid green eyes leaving amber orbs to focus on Fishlegs.

“If you want, I can talk to him after the competition is over,” Jack offered, feeling like this was partially his fault for pushing the contest. He wanted to have some fun, he hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble within their small, close-knit group.

The Head of the Academy just shook his head. “No, I’ll talk to him.”

“You sure?” the Guardian drummed his fingers against the gnarled wood, which had green eyes darting down to his hand before Hiccup shook his head again. Shrugging one shoulder, Jack turned his attention back to the stage with perfect timing as the heavyset Viking finished setting up.

“Prepare to be amazed at the smartest little dragon in the archipelago,” Fishlegs preached, having the children leaning forward in their seats. Neither Jack nor Hiccup missed the way Meatlug grumbled, looking more dejected than before. The Gronckle rider didn’t seem to notice as he showed the crowd different parchments with pictures of items that corresponded with the objects he had set on pedestals across the arena. He randomly stopped on a page and presented the little ones with a picture of an apple before showing it to the Terrible Terror. “Iggy, bring me this.”

The orange dragon looked at the drawing before taking to the air. He flew over the children’s heads, which brought forth gleeful gasps from them before Iggy hovered over the objects Fishlegs had placed at the opposite end of the ring. The Terrible Terror looked over each of the multiple objects, inspecting them all before spotting the one he was looking for, and dashed over to grab the red apple. He flew back over to Fishlegs and dropped the fruit into his awaiting hand.

“Good boy, Iggy. Aw, who's a good little guy?” the heavyset Viking praised the tiny dragon.

Amber eyes turned away from them and landed on Meatlug cuddling the sheep closer to her, trying to find whatever comfort she could. Snuffnut, who had been looking at Jack, followed his gaze and saw the distressed dragon. He had some difficulty making his way out of the small crowd of children who were jumping up and down to be picked to choose a drawing for Iggy to retrieve one of the remaining objects.

Once he was free, the little blond boy walked over to the suffering dragon where he gave the Gronckle a giant hug. Meatlug startled greatly and she only barely kept herself from attacking the little Viking when she took notice of who had grabbed ahold of her. Seeing the little one, she relaxed into the comforting embrace, nuzzling the boy who giggled when his helmet was knocked askew. When Snuffnut looked back, Jack made sure to give him one of his most winning smiles in appreciation.

The Guardian returned his attention to the performance to find Gustav picking out a card of his own and showing it to the Terrible Terror. Iggy then flew and retrieved the bucket similar to the sketch. The children cheered and a few more took turns until there were no more items to retrieve, which was Jack’s signal to make his way back onto the stage.

“A truly remarkable skill, let’s give Fishlegs and Iggy a hand,” the brunet hoped the children didn’t see how fake his smile was. “And now, for our last contestant of the day; we have Snotlout Jorgenson and his Terrible Terror, Pain. Helping them today is the scariest Monstrous Nightmare on Berk and the animal-loving Wyldfae from Pixie Hollow: Hookfang and Fawn!”

Snotlout ambled on the stage and set down the crate which had been Jack’s idea to stash Pain and Fawn in so they could make a grand entrance for their performance. However, when he flipped the lid open, things did not go as they had during the test run the ex-spirit witnessed the night before. Pain rocketed out of the wooden box like he was supposed to, but then he latched onto the brunet Viking’s leg wrenching a muffled scream while Fawn was nowhere to be seen. The children, who didn’t know any different, dissolved into giggles, but Jack frowned as Snotlout attempted to pry the purple Terrible Terror off his arm.

“So, let me get this straight, you trained him to bite you?” Fishlegs laughed, walking on stage, clearly feeling superior at the disastrous demonstration.

“No! Fawn was to come out riding Pain. We had a whole routine,” Snotlout growled, hobbling over towards the crate and looking inside for the Dewdrop Faerie. “She’s not here. I put both Pain and her in at the same time.”

“That’s odd,” the Guardian came up behind him and peered into the empty crate. “Fawn usually wouldn’t disappear unless there was someone around she didn’t feel comfortable with but there isn’t anyone here she dislikes. Why would she leave?”

A high-pitched scream had everyone’s skin prickling and Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Whipping around, the Guardian’s eyes swept over the frightened and panicked children. Amber eyes widened before sweeping over the little ones again, coming to the same conclusion as he had the first time. There was one less child than there should have been.

“Snuffnut! He’s missing!” Jack yelled whirling about to face the Dragon Riders as an angry growl echoed from above.

Fishlegs perked up as the echo died down, eyes widening as he looked around the arena. “That was Meatlug.”

“Snuffnut was with her!” the ex-spirit felt his stomach drop, knuckles going white around his staff. The Dragon Riders stiffened while the twins turned pale, but none moved. Jack growled, his Guardian of Childhood instincts yelling at him to do something. However, when he looked at the group of frightened children before him he knew something needed to be done, and fast. “GO! Get Snuffnut back! I’ll stay here with the rest of the children.”

“Right,” Hiccup agreed, his voice a pitch higher but not panicked in an attempt to keep the children from freaking out even more than they already were. “Let’s go.”

Jack could only watch as the Dragon Riders ran out of the arena, following the sounds of Meatlug’s growls. His stomach became queasier when the Gronckle sounds died down and he didn’t hear anything else. It left him feeling on edge and tense, not being able to do a thing. A tiny little chime in his ear had amber eyes looking up to find Fawn hovering above him, looking around worriedly. Her presence let him know whoever was out there was at least gone for now since she felt safe enough to come out; however, Snuffnut was still in danger.

A sorrowful chime came from her and Jack shook his head.

“It’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself,” the Guardian reassured her as he placed his hand on Terrorthi’s back, the children gathered closer to him for comfort. “Is it safe to get them away from here?” A cheerier chime and Fawn bobbing up and down was all the answer he needed. “Good, let’s get out of here.”

Feeling a tug at his cloak, Jack looked down at the little shieldmaiden looking at him with wide eyes. “What about Snuffnut? Will he be alright?”

“I…” Jack started, but he couldn’t finish. He didn’t know and couldn’t lie to them. “I wish I knew.”

Fawn thrilled, her slumped shoulders picking up before she began to weave in the air, making complex patterns. The air shimmered and became distorted until it no longer looked like the Academy’s wall but changed to show a Viking longboat. Jack’s jaw dropped while the children’s shocked gasps drowned out any sound he would have made. He hadn’t known Dewdrop Faeries could open viewing windows.

The image closed in on the longboat’s deck where a bunch of haggard, burly Vikings manned the ship. Near the stern of the boat was Snuffnut bound and gagged, leaning against an equally tussled-up Meatlug. Standing over him was a man with darker brown hair than Jack and a handlebar mustache. Brown eyes kept glancing over at the two to make sure they wouldn’t escape while he waved a sword about as a visible threat to deter any escape plans.

The second thing the ex-spirit noticed was the fact the man was clad in a mismatched armor ensemble that looked as if they had been scavenged from various different people. His helmet—with three different horns—appeared too small for his head and the man’s right shoulder pad was metal with three spikes on it while his left was a large turtle shell. Along his left wrist, were bandages yet his right wrist was wrapped with a spiked wristband around it. A brown vest with a multitude of tears and patches went over the top of a scalemail tunic lined with a tan hide and was kept closed with a strip of leather that contrasted greatly with his pale red pants and grey boots.

“There’s Snuffnut!” Terrorthi gasped, holding a hand over her mouth.

“With Savage guarding him,” Gustav gave Jack a name to the face as the image panned out to show a haggard, frail-looking old man with lackluster grey eyes and bushy grey hair going everywhere. The only straight hair was his long straight mustache hanging even lower than his elongated chin. He too wore an outfit similar to Savage, though his shoulder pads were made out of wood and matched along with the bandages wrapped around either arm. Unlike the other man, he didn’t have a sword, but a staff with some kind of beak carved at the top and over half a dozen dragon teeth tied to it. “And that’s Icky Mildew.”

One of the children let out a whimper and pointed as the image changed again. “It’s Alvin the Treacherous, the Chief of the Outcast Tribe.”

Amber eyes took in the massive Viking, who looked even larger than Stoick the Vast if at all possible. The man’s hair and beard were a shaggy mess of black that covered all of his face sans his dark eyes and a scar on his right cheek. His nose looked like it had been broken a few too many times, which didn’t surprise Jack. With muscles like those, the man was definitely a brawler.

Unlike the other Vikings aboard the ship, the man’s armor was top of the line with matching metal shoulder pads, each having a row of three spikes. His right arm bracer had similar spikes while the left one had metal studs. He too wore a tunic made of scalemail with a tan hide lining. His belt was of higher quality along with the dark brown leather pants and black boots. Although his helmet was far from the top of the line with a pair of metal horns, there were still two additional brittle-looking horns on the left side and another three on the right, one of which looked like it was about to fall off.

“Where are Snotlout and the others?” Gustav asked, tilting his head as if that would change the viewing window's vantage point and allow him to see the sky.

Jack didn’t have an answer for him, his eyes searching the limited view they had and couldn’t see the Dragon Riders or their dragons anywhere. Well, not the large dragons at least for there, sitting on top of Alvin’s head was a familiar aqua-green Terrible Terror. A mischievous smile crossed the ex-spirit’s face. This was going to be good, he just knew it.

“Look at his head and watch,” Jack pointed to the group.

An excited murmur went through the children when they too noticed Sneaky but no one was willing to talk. One of the more squeamish yelped and covered his eyes when Savage came up behind Alvin, a sword held high and aimed to kill the Terrible Terror. However, the little dragon stealthily disappeared and the Viking ended up swinging his blade onto the massive Viking’s helmet. The Outcast’s leader went down while the leaner Viking held his sword close to him looking around frantically for Sneaky.

The children laughed at Alvin’s pain but booed when the man began to get to his feet. A frightful gasp erupted from them when the Outcast chief drew his sword and the Guardian thought it might be time for Fawn to close the viewing window. He didn’t have to worry when Iggy swooped down and grabbed the sword from the huge Viking’s hand. Sharpshot—not far behind the other Terrible Terrors—fired upon Meatlug’s bindings, melting the chains and burning the wood to the point the Gronckle could break free. She grabbed ahold of Snuffnut’s bound form and immediately took to the sky.

Mildew ran forward in an attempt to grab hold of the boy’s leg, but the flock of Terrible Terrors wasn’t done with the kidnappers just yet. Head and Butt came out of either direction, ramming into the traitor’s skull. The force knocked the elderly Viking out which brought forth a round of applause from the children along with a few name-calls which if it was any other day, Jack would have reprimanded them for their language.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Terrorthi said sarcastically, grinning evilly.

Before Meatlug could get away with Snuffnut, Alvin had lassoed her with a rope and began pulling them back in. Fearful cries came from the children, only rising in volume when other Outcasts began to grab the rope and pull, reeling the dragon back towards the longboat. A purple blur shot past the viewing window as Pain came into view and bit through the rope, allowing Meatlug to fly free.

The children exploded in laughter and exuberance at the rescue and started to dance about in sheer excitement that the Dragon Riders had thwarted the Outcasts. Jack, on the other hand, kept watching the viewing window, seeing Toothless’s form coming barreling towards the longboat, a charge forming in his mouth and he motioned to Fawn to close it. The Guardian did not want the children to see what was to happen to the Outcasts and the Wyldfae complied, the air visibly rippling before returning back to normal.

Turning to the celebrating children, a new idea crept into his mind. “Why don’t we go meet up with our conquering heroes?”

There was a resounding yes which was how Jack found himself escorting a group of children to the shoreline to wait for the Academy members. Terrorthi was the first to notice the growing dots in the sky and the immortal teenager didn’t even try to rein in their growing anticipation. Hence the Dragon Riders were completely baffled when they touched down only to be bombarded by children and their excited comments.

“Sneaky’s stealthiness was awesome!”

“No cooler than Pain’s sharp teeth!”

“Head and Butt really knew how to use their heads!”

“Yeah, Mildew didn’t even stand a chance.”

“Iggy was brilliant! He just swooped in and grabbed Alvin’s sword right out of his hands.”

“Sharpshot was amazing. I wish I could aim like that.”

“What? How?” Fishlegs stammered, having been in the middle of helping Snuffnut off Meatlug’s back when they had been surrounded by the children. He turned to the others for help, but they were in the same situation, surrounded by the little Vikings with no clue as to how they knew what had occurred out at sea.

Hiccup was the only one to look towards the brunet for an explanation. Jack just grinned.

“Fawn was sorry for disappearing earlier and wanted to give us the show we missed out on,” the Druid’s grin widened. “So, kiddies, who do you think should win?” Cheers and names were thrown out, and Jack just nodded his head in agreement. “It’s settled then. The winner of the First Terrible Terror Train Off is the Terrible Terrors! They worked perfectly together as a team and managed to save the day.”

There were cheers of agreement, although, Jack’s real reward was the grateful smile Hiccup sent his way.

Chapter 26: A Chilling Recollection

Notes:

This chapter was hard for me, specifically the second half. Damn you Hiccup and Jack, your emotional scenes are hard to write, especially while attempting to keep both of you in character. Hopefully, I achieved it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hiccup was a little worried. He hadn’t seen Jackson in two weeks, which meant he was two days overdue. The Druid had accompanied Bucket and Mulch on an expedition to provide supplies to neighboring tribes that had been raided by savages. It shouldn’t have been dangerous since they were traveling with two of the four longboats that had come seeking aid and the chief was assured the barbarians were long gone. However, the convoy Stoick dispatched was not back and his father hadn’t heard a whisper about the missing longboat’s whereabouts.

What really had Hiccup upset was the fact Jackson wasn’t even supposed to go with them. Yet, now that Finn was assisting Gobber in the forge as payment for supplies, the brunet found himself with a chunk of free time that he spent with the members of the Academy. Hiccup was especially glad for an extra pair of hands in making the paints for Fishlegs’s newest scheme of tagging wild dragons from various islands to track their migration patterns. He was even more glad the Druid tagged along to Dragon Island, preventing Ruffnut and Tuffnut from covering the Dragon Riders with the paint instead of the wild dragons.

That was also the day the group of Dragon Riders first came across the battered longboats slowly drifting dangerously close to Dragon Island. Hiccup was quick to fly out to keep the territorial dragons of the island from attacking the intruders only to be bombarded with pleas of aid and assistance. He and the rest of the Dragon Riders ended up escorting the boats back to Berk so Stoick could hear the petition himself.

The Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe heard them out and after talking with his council, he agreed to provide assistance in exchange for future goods. With an agreement settled on, the Academy members headed back out to tag the remaining dragons while Jackson stayed behind to gather medical herbs from the forest. Hiccup had been sure they would return to Berk before the convoy left, however, they had run into a few problems themselves.

The first problem came in the form of the sudden change in migration patterns of various species of dragons. This stemmed from the second problem: whole islands were gone. That led to the third problem of figuring out why islands were mysteriously disappearing. No one liked the answer.  

A much larger, even meaner, and—worst of all—smarter Screaming Death was tunneling through the islands, causing them to collapse in on themselves and sink. Thank the gods they had made it out alive and with the wild dragons’ help, the Dragon Riders had been able to drive the Screaming Death off with overwhelming forces. Hence, the Academy members were late returning to Berk and by then the convoy had already left; Jackson along with it, much to their surprise.

Two weeks later, Gobber was the first to notice the longboat’s absence when it was a little over a day late. Stoick decided the best course of action was to wait another couple of days before sending out a search party, not wanting to raise alarm over a boat being delayed by a single day. Hiccup hadn’t agreed with his father and made his own plans to search for them the next day. He was both surprised and proud of Astrid and Snotlout when he found them outside his door in the morning. Their saddlebags already packed and ready to go, just as he had done for Toothless’s the night before.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut had been there too, but they weren’t coming with. They planned—and to say Hiccup was surprised they had a plan would be an understatement—to stay behind and keep Stoick too busy to notice the trio’s absence. Hiccup wasn’t sure if he should be thankful for their help or worried for his father that the twins were actually attempting to cause problems. Still, he appreciated their help and with Astrid and Snotlout by his side, he flew north as the first light of day reached Berk’s soil.

Now the sun was halfway to the zenith and they were still no closer to finding the missing longboat. No one wanted to voice the very real possibility there was no longer a boat to find. It was not what any of the trio was willing to consider. Nonetheless, the notion stayed firmly fixed in the back of their minds and was getting stronger with each passing hour.

“We're getting pretty far north,” Astrid was the first to break the heavy silence. The arctic weather was getting to her, but she'd held her tongue for the last hour despite Hiccup noticing her rubbing her hands up and down her arms to keep warm a few times now. They really hadn’t prepared all that well for the colder climate, assuming they’d find the boat before noon, which hadn’t been the case.

Hiccup glanced back briefly to make sure she was okay, before turning his eyes forward.

“They are already two days overdue,” the Head of the Academy shouted over the winds. “We need to keep searching.”

“You don't really think they're up here, do you?” the shieldmaiden glanced below, blue eyes searching the rolling waves for any signs of debris from a shipwreck. There was none, thankfully, but neither was there a longboat.

“You can't take the cold, huh, Astrid?” Snotlout teased, his eyes never leaving the waters below as chunks of ice started to appear.

“No, I just don't have a heated seat like you do,” Astrid shot back with a slight quirk of her lips, trying to keep from shivering. Although, the thick bearskin cloak he was wearing probably had something to do with it too. She would have to ask the Druid if he could make her a cloak too.

“That's right. You don't,” the brunet Viking chuckled, snapping his fingers. Hookfang let out a roar, his belly catching fire and the flames licking at his rider's legs but never burning him. “Ah, toasty.”

Hiccup chose to ignore the two’s bantering and focused on the waters' surface. Squinting, he thought he saw something next to a large iceberg floating off to the right. He would have written it off, but the wind changed directions allowing the auburn-haired Viking to hear what he thought were shouts in the distance. That had him veering towards the right. A bit closer and he could see two longboats shored on an icy plateau of the iceberg. One of the longboats was unmarked and unidentifiable at first glance while the other boat had a coiled Monstrous Nightmare on its sail: The Berk Crest.

“Looks like they're in trouble,” the Head of the Academy shouted for the Dragon Riders’ to hear, pointing at the longboats below before leaning down closer to Toothless’s body. “Come on, Bud.”

“Berserkers, commandeer this vessel for Dagur the Deranged,” shouted one of the Vikings decked out in chainmail and furs on the unmarked longboat as two of his men lowered a makeshift bridge between the two boats. One of the grunts took no caution as he tried to use the plank to board the Hairy Hooligan Tribe’s longboat, but didn’t make it more than halfway across when he was knocked into the water by Mulch with what appeared to be an eel. However, as the Berserker grunt went overboard with a splash half a dozen or so more Vikings were right behind him and they had little trouble rushing the pudgy man.

Bucket effortlessly took care of two of them, using the Berserkers' forward momentum against them, and hefting them up in one hand each while assisting them over the boat's railings. A third one hit Bucket in his bucket with a mace yet when that did nothing but have the tall muscular man turning to look at him with a piercing glare, the enemy Viking had enough self-preservation to throw himself overboard.

When Bucket was done with three more Berserkers, he turned to Mulch’s aid who really didn’t need the help. The shorter man was currently jumping up and down on one of the Berserkers who was twice his size, knocking the air out of him with each jump. Still, Bucket assisted by sitting on the dazed Viking, cutting off his air supply and rendering him unconscious within seconds.

Jackson wasn’t sitting by idly either, working to keep a man from overpowering him. However, unlike Mulch, he was not having an easy time of things. The brunet was working in a limited space and the rocking of the boat was doing him no favors. Not to mention, the Berserker he was fighting was easily four times his size. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t holding his own, Jackson kept the man at bay with his staff and quick footwork, but it was obvious he was struggling to maintain the upper hand.

Upon seeing the Druid’s predicament, Bucket stood up only to raise his hands in surrender when the Berserkers on the unmarked longboat leveled crossbows at him and Mulch.

“Surrender or—," the commander of the boat yelled across the space between the two longboats. He cut himself off when he dropped to the deck, ducking along with the rest of his men to avoid the poisonous tail spikes belonging to a Deadly Nadder that sailed over their heads.

“Nice shooting, Astrid,” Hiccup praised the shieldmaiden, turning his attention to his cousin. “Snotlout, light 'em up.”

The Monstrous Nightmare rider didn’t need to be told twice and dove down. Hookfang squeezed himself between the two longboats and released a large fireball, incinerating the bridge connecting the two.

“Whoo-hoo-hoo!” Snotlout cheered as the Monstrous Nightmare rocketed back up into the sky.

“Okay, Bud,” the auburn-haired Dragon Rider rubbed the Night Fury’s side. “It's our turn.”

Growling in pure rage, Toothless fired a larger than necessary plasma blast at the water to the side of the Berserkers’ boat. One of his wings jarred the longboat off of the iceberg as they sped by causing a few of the men to fall overboard, which Hiccup hadn’t planned on but knew it wasn’t a mistake on the Night Fury’s part.

“Retreat! Retreat!” the commander shouted, scrambling to his feet only to have them knocked back out from underneath him as the wave generated by the plasma blast rocked the boat yet again. The Berserkers in the water were swallowed up by the wave as they did their best to pull themselves back onboard while the men on deck scurried to shove off. In their haste to retreat, the enemy Vikings left one of their own behind.

The Berserker fighting with Jackson became desperate upon noticing his crew leaving and lunged. Grabbing hold of an unprepared brunet, the Viking pulled the weaker body into him with one arm while holding a sword to Jackson’s throat with his other hand. He wasn’t given the opportunity to make any demands of the two advancing Vikings for the Druid didn’t miss a beat and threw his head back into the man’s nose.

The resounding crack could be heard clearly as the Berserker stumbled backwards, tripping and falling over the side; taking the boy still in his arms with him. A moment later, the bloodied nose Viking came up. He took one look at the dragons flying overhead and Bucket standing closest to the edge of the boat and fled, swimming as fast as he could after the retreating longboat. His only hope of salvation.

The sight might have been rewarding, if not for Mulch’s frantic cries as he leaned over the railing of the longboat, searching the murky waters for life. “Jackson! Jackson!”

Jackson did not resurface.

“Oh no, Mulch. He’s not coming back up,” Bucket hollered, halfway climbing over the side to jump in when a black form crashed into the water without slowing. The resulting splash soaked the two older Vikings, but neither cared. Their eyes were glued to the surface of the water searching for any sign. Another splash from behind had them about-facing to witness Toothless landing on the deck with Jackson’s ever-present staff in his mouth. On his back, Hiccup clung to the shivering mass belonging to the Druid.

With Bucket’s help, Hiccup managed to manhandle Jackson off of the Night Fury’s back and leaned him up against the side of the boat. Yet, as amber eyes stared forward unseeing, the Dragon Rider felt a cold chill—which had nothing to do with his wet clothing—wash over him. Even when Toothless dropped the gnarled piece of wood with the clear jewel in his lap, the brunet didn’t react. That really concerned Hiccup.

“Jackson?” Hiccup whispered softly, unnerved when amber eyes refused to blink. Crooning tenderly, Toothless nudged the staff in the brunet’s lap which received the same response as his rider’s attempt, none. There was no reaction from Jackson save for his thick heaving breaths and uncontrollable shaking.

“He’s going into shock,” Astrid pushed her way passed Mulch and Bucket to kneel in front of the Druid. She grabbed one of his wrists feeling for a pulse. A grimace flashed across her face when she found his pulse weak in spite of his racing heart. A look into those ethereal eyes revealed full orbs of lackluster amber, pupils dilated with a vacant gaze. “We need to keep him warm. Get him out of those clothes and into something dry.”

“Right,” the auburn-haired Dragon Rider gulped and nodded his head.

When no one moved to follow through, Hiccup found himself reaching out with shaking fingers. He fumbled to untie the cloak’s fastenings and struggled to pull off the water-logged cloak from around Jackson’s shoulders. The garment was tossed to the side, and he reached forward again, grabbing ahold of the soaked-through white shirt, and began to pull. He halted when a pale hand weakly wrapped around his wrist. Vivid green eyes snapped up to meet tortured amber before Jackson slowly shook his head.

“N—n—no, ju—jus—st c—c—co—ol—ld,” the Druid stammered out as his hand fell from the Viking’s wrist and landed on his staff, clinging to it tightly.

“Here,” Snotlout stepped forward, pulling his bearskin cloak off his shoulders, and held it out. Hiccup nodded his thanks and took the offered article of clothing, steadily wrapping it around Jackson’s shoulders. When he pulled back, Toothless moved forward, cuddling up to the shivering mass and letting out a feeble warble of comfort.

“Th—ha—nk y—ou,” the brunet used his free hand to pull the fur closer around his body and leaned into the Night Fury’s side, soaking up as much bodyheat as he could.

“What happened here?” Hiccup demanded, looking over to the older Vikings for answers as he pulled off his own water-logged vest.

Both shared a sheepish look before the shorter of the two started talking while Bucket offered him a blanket, which the auburn-haired teenager gratefully took and wrapped around his shoulders, all the while listening to Mulch. “Well, we thought the Berserkers had hit an iceberg, and so we came in to help… They attacked us because we saw… It.”

“It?” the trio spoke in unison.

“Oh, can I show them Mulch? Can I, can I?” Bucket requested glancing behind him at the iceberg jutting out of the ocean.

The pudgy Viking shook his head negatively. “No, Bucket, I’ll show them, you stay with Jackson, see if you can find any more blankets to warm him up with.”

“Alright Mulch,” the taller man slowly nodded his head as Mulch waved the Dragon Riders to follow him. Snotlout stayed where he stood. A questioning glance from his cousin had the burly Viking gesturing with his head for them to go. Hiccup let a smile grace his lips and gave a single nod, following Astrid and Mulch to see what had caused such chaos, knowing Jackson was in good hands.

They headed a little ways into the iceberg, the ice was relatively clear making it easy to see through the tunnels Mulch was leading them through. The older man led them to a half-excavated column of ice surrounded by axes, picks, and other tools sewn about the base. Here the ice wasn’t nearly as clear as the rest of the iceberg and Hiccup found himself slipping forward to get a better look.

“That looks like a… dragon,” Hiccup narrowed his eyes at the distorted image while shuffling the blanket higher up on his shoulders. He couldn’t make out exactly what species of dragon it was. Neither could he fathom why the Berserkers would want a frozen dragon in the first place, but for whatever reason, it couldn’t be good.

“Why would Berserkers be trying to dig it out?” Astrid voiced the question currently running through the auburn-haired teenager’s mind.

“No idea. But I'm going to find out,” Hiccup shook his head and took a few steps back away from the dragon encased in ice with a determined look in his eyes.

Upon noticing his expression, Mulch groaned. “Oh, great. Now we have to dig it out.”

“Actually, I have a much better idea,” the Head of the Academy said, eyeing the Deadly Nadder who hadn’t been about to let her rider go off on her own in an unknown location. On the other hand, it could have had something to do with Toothless growling at Stormfly which got her trailing after the group of Vikings while he stayed curled around Jackson to help warm him up.

With the Deadly Nadder’s magnesium fires, it didn’t take long to cut free a large block of ice with the dragon preserved safely in the middle. A little rope salvaged from the supplies left behind by the Berserkers, some ingenuity on Hiccup’s part, and one Deadly Nadder and they were pulling the frozen dragon across the ice with ease. However, it took Toothless and Hookfang to get the block of ice airborne and onboard the longboat, which was then secured to the deck before shoving off.

On any other day, the Dragon Riders would have called it a day and flown back to Berk, reassured Mulch and Bucket were safely heading back to Berk. Jackson’s silent behavior had all of them staying behind.


“I’m fine,” Jackson stated firmly and it would have been a little more convincing if he wasn’t shaking so badly that Hiccup could see it from all the way across the warm cabin of the longboat. Rolling his eyes, the Dragon Rider shoved a bowl of soup Bucket had delivered into trembling hands and sat down beside the brunet.

Hiccup was relieved when their clothing had dried out, courtesy of curling up with Toothless and Hookfang. Yet, the others were concerned with the possibility of them getting sick from their impromptu dunk in the ocean and forced the two into the storage cabin and out of the cold to lessen the chance of either of them coming down with something.

“You could have drowned. Why didn’t you tell anyone you couldn’t swim?” the Head of the Academy voiced the question on everyone’s minds.

“I can swim. I…” Jackson corrected. However, with him refusing to look at the Viking while amber eyes became distant—staring unseeing into his soup—Hiccup knew there was more to it. Without conscious thought, the Dragon Rider found himself shifting closer to Jackson, waiting for him to spill. His patience was rewarded. “Back home, there’s this pond. Jamie likes to call it my pond since he and Sophie know part of the story, but it really doesn’t have a name, it’s always just been there.

“I used to swim in that pond, taught my sister and a few of the younger kids how to swim there. It was a good place to cool off during the summer. But in the winter? The winters were the best. The pond would freeze over and it was perfect for ice skating. Every spare moment I had, I would go skate on the ice or play in the grove next to the pond.

“My ice skates weren’t the best, far from it, but I made do. However, my sister’s? They were falling apart and a size too small. I saved up for months, doing extra jobs to earn a few coins here and there until I could afford a brand-new pair of skates for her birthday. She was so excited when I gave them to her and begged our mom nonstop to go to try them out. Mom finally relented when I promised to go with her and keep her safe.

“I should have known better,” Jackson let out a bitter laugh, running his free hand through his hair. The sound was jarring and set a shiver down Hiccup’s spine. It was something he hoped he’d never hear again coming from the usually bright, happy Druid. “Her birthday was near the end of winter and there hadn’t been any hard freezes for some time. I never got a chance to check the ice’s thickness before she had her skates on and was on the ice. I thought it was fine and was taking off my shoes when I heard it. The ice cracking…

“My heart stopped when I heard her scream. Because my sweet baby sister was standing in the middle of the pond. Surrounded by fracturing ice ready to give. She was so scared and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to do something. I was an idiot though, and despite common sense saying otherwise, I crept onto the ice myself with the ill-conceived idea I could save her. My weight was too much for the ice and it cracked further.

“Still, I had to try which was when I found this,” the brunet held up his staff and Hiccup couldn’t keep the whimper at bay. His mind racing to the inevitable conclusion of Jackson’s tale and he didn’t like the ending one iota. “I thought the staff could help, it could extend my reach, but it wasn’t enough, I needed to be closer. So, I played hopscotch with her like we did every day and used the crook to pull her towards me when she was close enough. It worked, my sister was out of harm's way, and I felt like nothing could go wrong.

“And Hiccup,” amber eyes finally looked up from the bowl resting in his lap to stare straight into vivid green eyes with such heartache that Hiccup was frozen in place, “when you think nothing can go wrong? That’s usually when everything goes wrong.

"The ice gave way. It was the scariest moment of my life. The water was colder than anything I’d ever felt. I couldn’t move my limbs. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe,” Jackson choked out, violently shivering at the mere memory.

The Viking wanted to reach out, to pull Jackson to his side, to offer some form of comfort as no words were forthcoming. There wasn't a chance, not with the brunet's whispered admission. 

“Máni pulled me up.”

Hiccup dared not move, his mind screeching to a halt and refusing to restart. There was no way the Druid was implying what he thought the brunet was implying. There was no way Máni had saved Jackson.

Then again, it made sense. Things about the Druid that didn’t seem to fit at all started to fall into place. It explained why Jackson never let the staff out of sight and was always within arm’s reach. Why he spent so much of his time with the tribe's children and why he didn’t seem to want to let others close to his heart. All of which stemmed from his failure to save his sister coupled with the king of his lands murdering his parents. It was a wonder the Druid was as happy as he was most days.

That was not what caused Hiccup’s stomach to twist into knots though. What had the chief’s son on edge was the notion the moon deity had set his sights on Jackson. Máni had a reputation for taking children. The most notable of which were Viðfinnr’s children, Hjúki and Bil, both of whom now followed the moon through the heavens for all to see.

Did that mean Máni wanted to take Jackson away too?

“Why did he save you?” Hiccup heard himself asking, hoping his voice wasn’t quivering from the fear he felt for the Druid.

“He had-has a plan for me and one day he will come to collect,” Jackson answered, eyes looking down and away from the Viking as he shifted his weight. Quickly, the brunet redirected the conversation. “That was the first time I’ve been completely submerged in water since Máni pulled me up. I kinda… froze.”

The Dragon Rider wanted to know more about what had ensued after Máni had pulled Jackson from the frozen pond. He needed to know if the moon deity had said anything else to the brunet. Did he give Jackson a deadline before he’d come to take the Druid away? Or would Hiccup wake up one day to find Máni had spirited Jackson away sometime in the night?

Hiccup couldn’t find it in himself to ask Jackson any of his invasive questions. Not now, not after such an ordeal, especially not with the younger teen's current vulnerability

“I know that couldn't have been easy for you,” Hiccup made an effort to smile as he placed what he hoped would be a comforting hand on the Druid’s shoulder. Jackson stiffened at the touch but didn’t shrug the hand off. “We’ll just have to keep that in mind next time we go swimming, won’t we?”

Amber eyes peeked up through dark lashes, hand tightening on his staff causing the crystal to bump up against his knuckles. “You’re the first person I’ve told the whole story to.”

The whispered confession had the Viking teenager gulping down the lump in his throat. Jackson just bared a large portion of his soul to him and Hiccup had the feeling their budding friendship’s future depended on his next actions. Even worse, he had no idea how to respond despite his every instinct shouting at him to respond immediately.

“I… am honored you told me,” which sounded lame to his own ears, but by some miracle, Hiccup got the feeling he said exactly the right thing. Judging from the way the Druid finally relaxed and began to eat the moderately warm stew, the Dragon Rider was positive he had done something right.

They sat in silence for some time. Both deep within their own thoughts as they mechanically ate the stew until their spoons scraped against the empty wooden bowls. The silence continued for a stretch more, but the longer they sat with not a word passing between the two, the more Jackson began to fidget until finally, the Druid broke.

“So, how’s Sharpshot?”

“He’s good,” Hiccup answered after a moment of hesitation. When he saw that Jackson didn’t look like he was about to break down anytime soon, he continued like the past half an hour hadn’t happened. “Me and Fishlegs are working out a system where Sharpshot delivers messages between the two of us. He seems to have gotten the hang of it, but there was a little confusion the first time I had him take a message to Snotlout instead of Fishlegs. 

"Snotlout has worked with him a few times since then and I hope to add one of the other Dragon Riders to the mix soon.  Maybe one day, Sharpshot will be able to deliver messages to anyone on or off Berk, not just the Dragon Riders. Though, if we somehow manage to get Sharpshot to track anyone down, it would be best to train a few more Terrors," Hiccup's mind drifted off, musing over the feasibility of training more Terrible Terrors.  With his current workload, he didn't have time to train wild Terrors, but there were a few Terrors partially trained. "I wonder what happened to the other Terrible Terrors we trained.”

The Head of the Academy hadn’t expected an answer and couldn’t stop his eyebrows from raising into his hairline when Jackson gave one. “Astrid is trying to desensitize Finn to dragons using Sneaky. She thought he would be a good first step to get Finn accustomed to having numerous other dragons around. Gobber’s helping too with keeping Grump around when the two are together, but Finn doesn’t have a problem with him since he likes Grump.

“I’m not really sure what happened to Iggy—I’ve seen him flying around with Sharpshot and the other Terrible Terrors from time to time—but the twins are actually still training Head and Butt. Though, they were teaching them to drop objects on unsuspecting people’s heads last I heard. As for Pain, I kinda borrowed him without asking Snotlout. He’s been good company on the trip, and I’ve been teaching him to locate large schools of fish.

“He’s getting really good too and I sent him out just before we were attacked by the Berserkers,” Jackson’s voice became small and fearful as terror for the purple Terrible Terror crossed the brunet’s face. Amber eyes glanced at the door to the cabin before looking straight into vivid green eyes. “Do you think he’s alright? He should have been back by now…”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hiccup assured the other teenager with confidence because he was sure that any dragon of Snotlout’s could survive out of sheer willpower alone. They had to in order to put up with his cousin.

“If you’re sure,” the Druid conceded halfheartedly, looking towards the door once more. “Mmm, do you think Snotlout will mind I brought Pain along without asking?”

Vivid green eyes were drawn to Jackson’s bottom lip as the younger teen bit down on it, drawing a bit more color to his pale complexion. He almost missed the brunet’s question and only snapped out of his daze when he heard his cousin’s name. Hiccup coughed to cover his momentary lapse and give himself enough time to concoct an answer.

Usually, Snotlout would be furious at anyone who dared to touch what was his. For some reason though, he got along with Jackson and the rules which applied to the Vikings didn’t seem to apply to the Druid. So, the auburn-haired Dragon Rider couldn’t say one way or another with certainty. However, with amber eyes shining in his direction, waiting for an answer, he couldn’t not say anything either. Nor could he stop the rush of heat to his cheeks.

“Uh, I think he’ll be fine with it. It was for a good cause after all, right?” Hiccup spoke fast, praying he wasn’t lying to Jackson.

“Yeah, he was really useful,” the brunet brightened, a small smile—the first since he’d been pulled out of the icy waters—twitched to life. “The fish-finding thing I was telling you about came in real handy and between Pain, Mulch, and Bucket we were able to get the other tribes a small store of food on top of what your father sent them.”

Hiccup couldn’t help but smile himself as the younger teenager prattled on about how the other Viking tribe was in awe of Pain and his fish-finding abilities. Jackson really was too kind. He might have a hard past and a guarded heart but he was always looking out for others and their best interests. Sadly, no one seemed to be looking out for Jackson’s best interests.  Not even Jackson himself.

“So, what’s happened with you while I’ve been away?”

The Head of the Academy pulled a face at the mere thought of the past two weeks which only made the brunet even more curious. So, he told Jackson the reason why the Academy members never showed up to see the convoy off and how they managed to defeat the Screaming Death. Then the Druid somehow weaseled another tale out of him about the Academy members’ efforts to clean up the dragon traps around the island like the one he had rescued Snotlout and Astrid from so many months ago. Jackson had even laughed when he heard Tuffnut managed to get himself trapped in a similar snare but had quickly quieted down at the mention of the forest fire that destroyed part of the northeastern forest.

The Druid mourned the lost opportunity to meet Torch, the Typhoomerang Hiccup helped save as a baby and, in turn, Torch helped save Tuffnut and the village from the forest fire. Then again, Jackson would have mourned any lost opportunity to meet any species of dragon. He liked all dragons as long as they didn’t attack him, and the auburn-haired Viking knew the brunet would have especially liked to meet Torch with how large the Typhoomerang was.

They continued to talk the night away, Jackson telling him about what had gone on with the convoy, and the methods he had used to train Pain to locate schools of fish. Bribery, it was bribery, that was how Jackson was able to train Pain. Though, the Druid adamantly denied such and insisted he used a reward-based system. Before either of them knew it, dawn was upon them and Berk’s shores were just ahead.

The cry of pain from Snotlout informed them of Pain's safe return as well.

Notes:

Yeah, there is a hint of Hiccup's affection for Jack showing through. Small, but there.

Also, I feel I am being mean seeing all the horrible assumptions Hiccup and the rest of the Vikings are coming to about Jackson that simply aren't true. However, it is much more plausible to them than the alternative of Jack being a time traveling Guardian of Fun. So, before people ask, no Jack's sister didn't die but that's how Hiccup has interpreted what happened.

Chapter 27: A Skrilling Discovery

Chapter Text

Docking at Berk’s shores, Jack gave Hiccup a hand in harnessing the block of ice to the dragons so they could fly the frozen dragon over to the Academy for further inspection. He planned to follow the Dragon Riders on foot so as to not burden Toothless with carrying an additional passenger despite the auburn-haired Viking assuring him otherwise. The ex-spirit still declined, not wanting to put any strain on the already weighed down dragon. Besides, it gave him the chance to stretch his legs after spending nearly a week at sea.

His plans changed when Mulch and Bucket dragged him along to the Great Hall to report to the chief. Jack made an effort to slip away, but the two Vikings kept him in between them, preventing an escape. Thus, he was resigned to being escorted to the Great Hall. He wasn’t, however, prepared for the hall to go quiet and all eyes turned towards him when he slipped through the doors.

Jack froze on instinct and when the large Vikings continued to stare without speaking a word, he took a step back only to bump into Bucket. Large hands placed themselves on his shoulders—producing a violent flinch from the eternal teenager—and guided him forward. None of the multitude of eyes left him alone and he had never in his life wished to be invisible up until now. There were too many adults, not one child or faerie or even a dragon anywhere in sight. It didn’t help that almost everyone towered over him nor did it help that they closed in behind him as the trio made their way towards the back of the hall.

There, sitting at the head of the largest table, was Stoick. Spitelout stood to the chief's right while Gobber was leafing through various scraps of paper on his left. A bunch of other people stood on the opposing side of the table waiting to speak with the chief. They all moved to the side, allowing the trio to cut to the front of the line. One Viking, not anyone Jack knew—although, he might have known her, she looked vaguely familiar but with his breathing coming out in short shallow breaths and the world buzzing around him, he couldn’t recognize her—tapped Stoick on the shoulder. The giant of a man turned around, his gaze following the woman’s finger towards him.

A great big grin spread across the chief’s face accompanied by a booming laugh at the sight of the trio. Yet it was his fist thumping the table that had Jack jumping, causing Bucket to place a large comforting hand on his shoulder. The touch was familiar and kept him somewhat grounded, but all he really wanted to do was get out of there.

“Ha! I told Hiccup we only needed to wait,” Stoick boasted, walking around the table to deliver a slap to Mulch’s back. “He was worried something had happened to ya.”

“Ahh, chief? Yer boy and some of those Dragon Riders of his flew out to rescue us,” the shorter man hesitantly spoke up while gesturing to Bucket and Jack with his hook.

The redhead’s jolly mood vanished within an instant, leaving in its place a hard look as green eyes washed over the two older Vikings first, searching for injuries before landing on the small brunet in between them. Jack felt as if the cold icy water was once more seeping into his body, freezing him in place. He would have gulped if he could, but there didn’t seem to be enough saliva in his mouth. Instead, amber eyes shifted to the ground as he shrank into himself, making himself appear as small as possible.

“What happened?” Stoick demanded, Jack completely missing the way green eyes became as hard as stone at his reaction.

The brunet did glance up in time to see those green orbs bounce back and forth between Mulch and Bucket, looking for answers. However, those green eyes—similar to Hiccup’s but different—were perceptive and caught the glimpse of amber, softening at the small boy standing in the midst of Vikings. Not that it reassured the Guardian of Fun one bit; Stoick the Vast was a daunting man and North, for all his grandstanding, had nothing on him.

“There was a giant storm which was bringing in icebergs down from the north—,” the stubby man began only to have Bucket interrupt.

“It was bizarre. The storm never hit us, it seemed to move around us as if it was given’ us safe passage—,” this time it was Mulch cutting off the taller Viking with a slap to the blond man’s side.

“Don’t be draft, Bucket, we were just lucky.”

If Jack wasn’t so tense at the moment, he would have been grinning from ear to ear. Bucket was right. The storm had moved around them allowing them safe passage thanks to a little aid from the winds on his behalf.

“As I was sayin,’ we were slowed down due to the ice which was when we saw another longboat on top of an iceberg. We thought they were in trouble and went to offer our help,” Mulch shuttered at the memory. “No one was on the boat when we pulled up, so Bucket and I went on shore to see if they had sought shelter further on the iceberg. We found them trying to excavate some kind of dragon from the ice.”

“That’s when they attacked us,” the blond Viking said, his voice low and shaky. Jack knew better. He’d seen the man take on multiple Berserkers without breaking a sweat and he hadn’t hesitated then. The teenager couldn’t understand why Bucket was afraid of them now when they were long gone. Then again, the brunet shouldn’t be casting stones in glasshouses; he could take on the King of Nightmares without flinching but give him a room full of mortal men and he froze.

“Who attacked?” Spitelout slammed both of his hands on the table, causing Jack to jump and take a step further away from the angry Viking and into Bucket’s personal space.

Mulch shuttered once again. “Berserkers.”

“I can’t believe this!” the chief’s right-hand man thundered, causing the whole room to erupt into roars and loud noises as fists pounded on tables and weapons clattered as they were drawn.

The ex-spirit’s earlier uncomfortable state was nothing compared to how he felt now. With the crowd surging forward—closing in around him—and demanding answers, he was on edge. He tried to escape and squeeze his way between the various Vikings surrounding him, but he found himself trapped. The uneasiness inside him grew and fought for release. The ringing in his ears became thunder and his skin felt clammy and warm at the same time. Jack thought he was going to explode, that something inside of him was going to snap at any moment, which was when Stoick commanded the crowds’ attention.

“All right. Calm down,” the mountain of a man pacified the masses with a level voice and a simple wave of his hand which had the members of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe quieting instantly to hear their chief. The silence was enough to delay the growing flood of emotions racing through Jack, searching for an escape, only barely held at bay by the eternal teenager.

“This is an act of war,” Mulch insisted and the brunet felt the tension inside of him rise even before the people started to shout once again.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions about what this attack means,” Stoick insisted, green eyes glaring at the shorter man that was winding the crowd up for the second time.

“I don't know, Stoick. Seems pretty cut and dried to me. I mean, if you think about it, an attack is an attack. Am I right, people?” Gobber carelessly spoke. Waving his hook around and gaining all the other Vikings’ attention, doing even more damage in riling the crowd up to the verge of a riot. Jack was one of those on the verge, but not of a riot, more along the lines of allowing the growing flood inside of him to burst.

Stoick just gave the blacksmith the evil eye, sarcasm dripping from every word as he spoke. “And thank you, Gobber.”

“Always here to help,” Gobber cheerfully replied as he took a sip of his mead.

The Guardian of Fun was far from cheerful though. He didn’t feel right in the least and wanted to get out of there. To run through the forest with the Wyldfae or to take Hiccup up on his offer to go for a ride with him and Toothless. He needed to get out of there. To calm down and center his warring emotions or else something—and he didn’t know what that something was, but he knew he was on the verge of it—was going to happen.

A nudge at his side jolted the Druid out of his distress and a small spark of static lit up his fingertips when he brushed up against the dragon now at his side. Giant acid green eyes peered back at him curiously and, like magic, Jack felt the flood subside, leaving him feeling drained. He was thankful for the Night Fury’s presence and leaned against the dragon who easily supported his weight.

“I think I know why Dagur's men attacked them,” Hiccup spoke to his father as he and Astrid made their way through the crowd.

“Go on, son,” Stoick motioned towards his heir, giving him the floor. No one dared to interrupt the Hero of Berk when it came to the affairs of dragons.

“We got a better look at the dragon Bucket and Mulch found in the ice,” the Head of the Dragon Academy began, his eyes scanning the crowd and pausing for a brief second on Jack before continuing on.

“We found a dragon? Oh, can we keep it? I've always wanted my own dragon, Mulch,” Bucket blabbered on excitedly, tugging at his friend’s clothing.

“Uh… it's a Skrill,” Hiccup deadpanned and the whole room became deathly silent. The sudden lack of outburst—which appeared to be all the Vikings were capable of—had Jack wondering what was so dangerous about the frozen dragon before deciding he was too tired to care.

Spitelout dropped in to the chair behind him. “That cannot be good.”

“Oh. I don't want one of those,” the tall bucket wearing blond retracted his statement and the brunet was sure he could hear fear—real fear—in the usually happy-go-lucky Viking. Mulch elbowed the taller man in the side to keep from drawing the other Vikings’ attention. “Ow!”

“Are you sure about this, son?” Stoick asked over the ensuing fight between Bucket and Mulch.

“Oh, we are sure!” Fishlegs bellowed out giddily, shoving his way through the crowd and throwing his arms around Astrid and Hiccup. The Book of Dragons thumping loudly against the shieldmaiden’s arm which earned him a glare from the Deadly Nadder rider. Not that the heavyset blond noticed, his obnoxious laughter and howls covering up the noise. “Whoo! Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, Fishlegs.”

And once more, Jack was faced with the contradicting nature of Fishlegs. For all intents and purposes, the boy appeared to have been drinking way too much mead. Astrid didn’t appreciate the physical attention and elbowed the Gronckle rider in the side—hard—to get him to remove his arm which he did. Not because of the jab though, but because he was laughing so hard that he had curled in on himself, clutching the leather-bound book close to his chest.

Fishlegs abruptly stopped laughing when he looked up to see Stoick, Spitelout, and Gobber giving him a stern look. Jack briefly wondered which one of them was more menacing to the blond Viking or if it was the combination of the three looks that had Fishlegs frozen. In his personal opinion, Stoick had the most menacing glare followed by Spitelout—who had more of a constipated look mixed in with his glare—with Gobber coming in dead last since his was more of a disapproving look than anything else.

Chuckling nervously, Fishlegs hid his face halfway behind The Book of Dragons. “Sorry, chief, that… uh, happens sometimes when we discover a new dragon. I… uh, I get a little… “

“Look, it's right here,” Hiccup put the heavyset Viking out of his misery and wrenched the book out of his hands. The auburn-haired teenager quickly flipped to the appropriate page and turned it to face his father and the two Vikings at his side. As he flipped the book around, Jack caught a glimpse of the charcoal drawing. It could have been the dragon in the giant ice cube for all the ex-spirit knew, but then again, he really couldn’t tell with the distortion from the ice. “That is definitely a Skrill.”

“And the Skrill is the symbol of Dagur the Deranged,” Astrid spit out, causing the whole crowd to roar back to life. The Guardian once more unintentionally startled and was pushed out of the way as the other Vikings surged past him to see the book. A growl from Toothless had them taking a step back and giving the dragon—and thus the Druid by his side—more space, which Jack greatly appreciated.

With the Night Fury’s menacing demeanor, he was able to clear a path to the front of the Great Hall for the two of them. Jack's legs, with what little life they had left in them, would have given out if not for Toothless supporting him and his staff. Once seated on the ground with his back firmly pressed up against the wall, he pulled his legs to his chest—staff safely tucked between them and his body—and wrapped his arms around his knees. Toothless sat at his side and together they waited out the yelling and the screaming going on.

Stoick finally had enough and with a meaningful look at his second-in-command, Spitelout ushered them all out; leaving only the Dragon Riders, the chief, Gobber, and himself behind in the large open room. Jack thought his continued presence in the hall might have been a mistake on Spitelout’s part, missing him half hidden in the shadows on the floor. The blacksmith, on the other hand, sent a slight glance in his direction letting the brunet know he knew he was still there. Once Gobber finished closing the Great Hall’s massive doors, he turned towards the group with a troubled expression on his face.

“Legend has it, the lightning comes from the Skrill's mouth and thunder from its…” the blacksmith spoke shaking his fist. A warning look from the chief kept him from completing his sentence, his shoulders slumping before he shrugged. “Well, you know.”

“Remind me never to get behind one,” Astrid popped off and Jack had to hide a grin. It appeared he was rubbing off on her. A month ago, she would have never made such a crass comment like that.

“That's actually inaccurate,” Fishlegs lectured, taking the book back from the auburn-haired teenager and holding it protectively to his chest. “According to The Book of Dragons, the Skrill drew lightning from the clouds and then redirected it.”

“It could use that lightning to hit several targets at once, which is why it was such a feared dragon,” Hiccup continued for the heavyset Viking when he started getting giddy again.

“It could also store the lightning in its body and use it later,” the Gronckle rider jumped back in.

“Are we sure that Skrills don’t produce lightning on their own?” Jack found himself asking, causing the group to turn and look down to where he was sitting.

“Yeah, I’m sure, The Book of Dragons—,” Fishlegs pointed to the very book he was referring to.

“Could be wrong,” Jack interjected, stretching out his legs while ignoring the gasp of blasphemy coming from the highly offended blond. Nonetheless, with the other Vikings’ attention on him, the brunet felt obligated to keep speaking, knowing they were paying attention to him. “Dragons create their own fire and from what you said, this dragon doesn’t have its own flame but draws on lightning. Maybe Skrills don’t just draw on lightning, but their flame is lightning.”

“The lad has a point, Stoick. We really don’t know what this dragon is capable of,” Gobber glanced over at his friend, hook scratching his chin.

“I've heard enough,” the chief put a stop to any more squabbling before it could get started. If he hadn’t, Fishlegs would have verbally attacked the Druid for outright stating his precious book might have been wrong. For whatever reason, the Gronckle rider took whatever was written in The Book of Dragons as gospel and wasn’t opened to alternatives. The Guardian just hoped that wouldn’t get him killed in the future. “We need to get rid of that Skrill. It's just the excuse Dagur needs to go to war.”

“You all know I love a good fight as much as the next person, but why not just give it to them? It's just a frozen dragon carcass after all,” the blacksmith suggested and if Jack didn’t know more about magical creatures thanks to his mother—along with his personal experience spanning over three hundred years—he would have agreed with the man. Gifting the Skrill to Dagur as a peace offering was a strategic plan if one did not know some Creatures of Magic could hibernate for thousands of years—even encased in ice—and wake up any time despite appearing dead for all intents and purposes.

“Actually, because of their internal body temperature, Skrills can stay safely frozen for decades,” Fishlegs voiced the ex-spirit’s own assumption, the heavyset Viking’s nervousness bleeding through his body as he gave a halfhearted chuckle.

Jack could see it took the chief’s entire willpower to barely restrain himself. If he had to hazard a guess, the brunet would assume if Stoick was alone—or wasn’t the chief—he would have had his face in one of his large hands, shaking his head at the series of unfortunate events. “Is there anything else I should know about this Skrill? Like where it’s located?”

“We left it at the Academy—,” Astrid started strong, waving her hand towards the arena’s general direction before her voice trailed off. All of them could see her wincing as the blood drained from her face and her voice became weak and troubled, "—with the others guarding it.”

The whole group was silent while the Dragon Riders shared a worrying look.

“So, let me be clear,” Stoick spoke up, looking at each of the Academy members in turn. “This dragon may still be alive, and you left Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Snotlout to guard it?”

“Okay, that sounds much worse when you say it,” Hiccup grimaced, vivid green eyes darting towards the Great Hall’s doors as if they were going to blow off their hinges at any moment. “But it's frozen solid in a block of ice. How much damage could it possibly do?”

Jack didn’t have the self-control the chief displayed only moments before. He readily let his face slam into his hand and moaned. If there was one constant in the world, no matter the time frame, it was Murphy’s Law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The immortal teenager had seen it enough times to know the law held true and being exposed to Bunny’s unnatural need to hope—he was the Guardian of Hope after all—for the best but prepare for the worst had further instilled the knowledge into his mind.

He, unlike the others, was not the least bit surprised when the ground trembled beneath them a moment later as an explosion rocked the Great Hall. Gobber wasted no time in throwing the doors open, catching sight of the dissipating cloud of flames originating from the Dragon Training Academy. Distant shrieks reached their ears and Jack could see from his new position behind Hiccup that the villagers were rushing out of their huts to find the source of the commotion.

Toothless gave a concerned warble and the ex-spirit found his legs being pushed out from underneath him. From one moment to the next, he went from standing up to suddenly being seated on the Night Fury’s back. Hiccup was more prepared and mounted the dragon with no problem, even as Toothless took to the air and flew out the Great Hall’s opened doors.

Glancing behind him, Jack saw Meatlug and Stormfly flying towards the Great Hall, already anticipating their riders’ needs whereas the chief and blacksmith had to make dragon calls to summon their mounts. Both Astrid and Fishlegs headed out before either of the older two Vikings could mount their dragons. Gobber being the last to take off a bit unstable on Grump since he rarely rode the Boulder-class dragon and wasn’t accustomed to regular flying.

Turning back around, amber eyes focused on the Academy as they drew closer. A faint glow from lingering flames inside the dome lit the way and made it easy for Toothless to land on the ground a few yards in front of the entrance. The Night Fury didn’t allow either of his riders to dismount and bounded the rest of the away into the Academy. Jack was not prepared for Toothless to skid to a halt and slammed into the auburn-haired Dragon Rider’s back. His nose throbbing from the impact yet it was ignored in favor of the brunet peering over Hiccup’s shoulder to see what the holdup was.

His assumption—and The Book of Dragons—was correct; the Skrill was definitely alive.

At the moment, the thawed dragon had its spiked back turned to them, its large clawed wings and tail wrapped around its body which was a bit bigger than Stormfly. When those wings started to unfurrow and its head crowned with spikes lifted up, shark-like gills on its neck were revealed as it stood up on two legs. Even in the dark, its yellow eyes appeared to shine from within purple scales as its gaze landed on Toothless.

An angry roar rocked the Academy as lightning from the sky struck not too far away. The Skrill took the fleeting distraction to flap its wings in an endeavor to fly only to fall down. Too weak from how ever long it spent in the ice. Its weakness did not prevent it from getting right back up. Confusion and anger swirled in its yellow eyes and when Jack made the mistake of shifting to get a better view, sickly yellow orbs locked on him.

A second ear-piercing shriek rent the air while lightning flickered violently across the sky. The electrical discharge had the Skrill standing taller, feet braced against the ground and Jack thought for a moment, there might have been a chance to calm the dragon. That there would be no cause for concern. The chance vanished the moment Hookfang and his rider suddenly appeared at the Night Fury’s right while Stormfly and Astrid were on their left. The combined front had the other dragon taking a step back, its confidence fading to agitation and being confronted with a fight or flight instinct, the Skrill chose flight.

Yellow eyes darting around, looking for an opening and when it found none, it attacked their weakest link. Meatlug and Fishlegs were knocked out of the way when the Skrill charged them, slipping past the Gronckle and out of the Academy into the sky before the others could react. Lightning flashed from one dark cloud to the next, illuminating the escaping dragon, and fading along with the Skrill into the clouds.

This was what Stoick and Gobber found when they finally arrived. Taking one look around at the half shattered and partially melted ice, the chief’s stony green eyes landed on the gathered group.

“Their fault,” Snotlout pointed towards the twins not so innocently sitting on top of Barf and Belch at the other side of the Academy.

“Hey! He stole our plan,” Ruffnut groaned, sounding offended. If this was any other time, Jack would have liked the twins’ usual humor. Today wasn’t a usual day. Today had been an unbelievably bad day so far and things were getting even worse.

“I told you guys to leave it alone,” Hiccup snapped at the two blondes as he dismounted Toothless. Slowly, he made his way over to where a block of ice should have been but was now only a puddle of water and chunks of ice.

“It jumped us, sneaky dragon,” Tuffnut answered immediately. The Thorstons jumped off the Hideous Zippleback’s necks to land in a crouch before standing up straight while crossing their arms over their chest in an effort to show a united front.

“From inside a block of ice?” the Head of the Academy didn’t hold back the sarcasm.

Ruffnut looked at her brother, wondering how he was going to get them out of this one. Judging by the way Tuffnut’s face was scrunched up, he had no idea either. Then, as if a lightbulb went off over his head, he looked around suspiciously and held up his hand to hide his whispered remark.

“Uh… Very sneaky dragon?”

“Oh Thor,” the auburn-haired Dragon Rider shook his head, clearly not believing a single word coming out of Tuffnut’s mouth.

Jack had a feeling Hiccup would have started to lecture the twins, which was futile unless done with threats and bribery, but a stressed filled groan captured everyone’s attention. Turning towards the source, amber eyes found the chief kneeling next to the remains of the ice. The chief rummaged through the debris and picked up one of the larger chunks. Holding it out for Thornado to inspect, the Thunderdrum took a whiff of the missing dragon’s sent and growled.

“What is it, Dad?”

“When I was a lad, my father's father used to sit me on his knee and tell me stories. I thought they were just tales,” Stoick said throwing the piece of ice to the side. The ex-spirit momentarily wished he had memories like that, but it was his mother who told him and his sister stories in the dead of night while his father couldn't have cared less about him and his sister.

“Ah, I remember those tales,” Gobber shuddered, leaning against Grump for support.

“Tales about what?” the Guardian found himself asking. He was always a sucker for a good story, be it real or not. All stories had a lesson or two behind them and they were so much fun to tell, watching children’s faces change expressions was a treat within itself.

“Berserker fleets attacking behind harnessed dragons that brought down lightning from the sky and destroyed everything in their path,” the chief recalled with a faraway look in his eyes as he stood up and brushed the little ice chunks off his knees.

“Yo-you don't think the Berserkers could actually control a Skrill?” Hiccup asked, eyes downcast as he thought of the implications before looking back up at his father.

“I didn't think anyone could ride a Night Fury,” Stoick answered and Jack could hear the pride in the chief’s voice as he glanced at his son. The expression was soon lost when he looked away and up at the storm clouds covering the sky. “We just can't take the chance. If the Berserkers find that Skrill and know some way to control it….”

“We'll find it, Dad. I promise.”

Stoick looked at his son and then at each of them and nodded. “Very well, I’ll leave this to you and your Dragon Riders. And you too, Jackson.”

The ex-spirit momentarily froze but didn’t say anything. He did give the chief an absentminded nod and was rewarded with a slight nod of acknowledgment in return.

“Good luck,” Gobber said as the two older Vikings climbed onto their respective dragons and headed back into the village. Most likely to call to order another meeting to reassure the tribe something was being done about the Skrill.

Another strike of lightning had the Dragon Riders glancing at each other. The task at hand daunting and difficult, exacerbated by the storm.

“Any idea what we do after we find it?” Astrid was the first one to voice their concern, although the immortal teenager thought the better question would be where to find the dragon.

“We catch it, we tame it, we train it, keep it away from Dagur so he doesn't use it against us,” Hiccup answered not bothering to look at the shieldmaiden. Vivid green eyes swept over the arena. Searching for what, Jack didn’t know.

Blue eyes rolled as Astrid’s head rolled to the side with the action. “Oh, yeah. That sounds easy enough.”

“Actually, the Skrill does have some weaknesses,” Fishlegs pointed out, waving the leather-bound book around. Jack once more palmed his face, knowing the Gronckle rider was going to be quoting something from the book any second now and if he had placed bets on it, he would be collecting on them right now. “According to The Book of Dragons, it can't redirect any lightning if it's in the water.”

“That's a start,” the Head of the Academy mumbled inattentively, kneeling down next to the melted ice and running his fingers through the water.

“No, a start would be having any clue where this stupid thing is,” Snotlout growled out, glaring at the twins.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Jack commented looking up at the sky for a moment. He listened to the winds whip around, raging in the clouds above. They were angry and it just wasn’t them. His skin prickled as the lightning lashed out and thunder boomed. Something was up and the Druid didn’t know if it had to do with the Skrill or not.

“And why wouldn’t it be so hard to find?” Tuffnut asked, waving his arms around wildly. “I mean it could be anywhere in the whole archipelago. We don’t even know where to start.”

Ruffnut nodded along with her brother. “Yeah, I mean, even if we had the Wyldfae help to search Berk, it could have gone to any of the other islands.”

Everyone else just looked at the twins—save for the ex-spirit who was busy listening to the winds—staring at them incredulously, Fishlegs broke the growing silence. “I’m just going to come out and say it, they’re right and they have a solid plan to search for the dragon, using the Wyldfae is a great idea. Is anyone else surprised that it was Ruff and Tuff’s idea or is it just me?”

“What is the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?” Jack asked, coming back to his surroundings and looking around at the bewildered Dragon Riders. He distinctly remembered the day he had woken up in Finn’s hut. It was as if he had spent his last three hundred plus years as a spirit asleep as far as his body was concerned.

“Well, usually I have to—” Snotlout started but cut himself off when his cousin snapped at him to shut up. The Guardian of Childhood tilted his head to the side, curious since Hiccup seemed to know exactly what the burly boy was going to say which had the auburn-haired teenager blushing. He pondered what it was Snotlout did in the morning that had Hiccup blushing so badly.

“No, after that,” the Head of the Dragon Academy encouraged the Monstrous Nightmare rider onward having cottoned on to the ex-spirit’s thoughts.

“Oh,” the broad-shouldered Viking slapped himself in the face, finally figuring out what they were talking about. “Eat.”

“Exactly,” the Druid grinned as all the other Dragon Riders brightened at the lead.

Hiccup turned towards the dragon expert who was already flipping through the leather-bound book. “Fishlegs, what is the Skrill's food of choice?”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t gorge itself with food and become sick,” the immortal teenager grumbled to himself, shuddering at the memory of him throwing up.

Chapter 28: Lightning to a Dragon

Notes:

To Eo, yes you are correct, the cloak Snotlout stole from Jack and now wears is supposed to be the one from HTTYD 2.

Mihas, there are things planned for Finn seeing Jack yelling at Manny, pppllaaanss~! Now if they come to fruition or not, that is the question even I don't have an answer for. As for how Hiccup knows what Snotlout does first thing in the mornings, let’s just say he walked into his cousin's room at the wrong time and leave it at that, kay? XP

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lightning danced around them, too close for Hiccup’s comfort. He didn’t want to be struck by lightning again. Once was more than enough. During storms such as the one they were flying through, he felt the phantom tingling sensations from the lightning coursing through his hand, down his body, and out his foot. It should have killed him, but he’d survived.

Toothless crooned, banking to the left and away from another crack of lightning. He didn’t like lightning much either.

“This thing can fly fast!” Snotlout shouted as they pursued the Skrill.

Thanks to Jackson’s insight into where the dragon might head, the Academy members managed to intercept the Skrill at Silent Sven’s sheep farm. They were not, however, able to contain the purple dragon and it escaped with one of the silent Viking’s sheep. Not that Sven minded since the tradeoff would have been the Dragon Riders protecting his flock rather than him from the Skrill’s claws. That did not stop the sheep farmer from forcing the teenagers to round up the rest of his flock before allowing them to go after the thieving dragon. The delay cost them and they lost the dragon to the thunderstorm's clouds.

Another bolt of lightning crashed way too close, but it was Toothless's balking that caused Hiccup to signal the Dragon Riders with a raised hand. “Hold up, everybody.”

“What now?” Jackson asked, the brunet’s head peeking over Hiccup’s shoulder. Another flash of lightning and the silhouette of the Skrill hidden in the clouds became visible for a split second before vanishing. “Never mind. Just…just tell me you have a plan.”

“Everybody, stay back. If the Skrill sees just one dragon, maybe it won't attack,” the Head of the Dragon Academy answered the younger teenager. The scattered ideas he’d been revising, discarding, and altering in his mind since leaving Silent Sven’s coming together in a solid plan. A plan that Hiccup knew wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the Vikings and if it wasn’t for the winds currently whipping at his ears, the chief’s son knew he would hear the resentful grumbles from the other Academy members. He would have preferred to go alone, but that was not possible.

“Shall we?”

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder at the Druid and sighed but nodded his head. “We shall.”

Shifting the gears of Toothless’s tailfin, the Night Fury headed for the clouds the Skrill was using for cover. The dragon did an excellent job of staying hidden too. Without the bursts of lightning to illuminate the silhouette, the Dragon Rider had a difficult time keeping the dragon in his sights. A hook-shaped staff to his left drew vivid green eyes towards the crook and in the direction it was pointing. There he could see a dark shape, unlike the other clouds, becoming darker as they moved closer. Soon, it wasn’t a dark blob but had distinctive wing-shaped appendages.

A crack of thunder did nothing to cover up the shrieks of the Skrill. Sending Toothless into a fight or flight mindset, leaning more heavily towards the fight instincts than the flight. Hiccup fought the Night Fury, keeping him under control while preventing him from outright attacking the other dragon. He might have managed to restrain Toothless, but even the Head of the Dragon Academy couldn’t keep the Night Fury from producing a dark, ominous growl of warning.

“Ready?” Hiccup glanced back as Toothless flew in circles around the agitated dragon-shaped shadow.

“As I will ever be,” Jackson quipped, wrapping the staff around the Viking and holding on tight.

Shaking his head, the Dragon Rider turned so he was facing forward and gave Toothless his head. The Night Fury immediately went for the Skrill. Thankfully, he didn’t attack the other dragon despite the tiny lightning bolts that crackled across the Strike-class dragon's purple scales in what might be a defensive mechanism. Instead, as they flew closer, Toothless circled about to come up alongside the Skrill rather than head-on in hopes their approach would come across as less hostile to the purple dragon.

For a moment, the Skrill didn’t appear to take notice of them and Hiccup took it as a good sign. Toothless wasn’t of the same opinion but glided a little closer at his rider’s insistence. Yellow eyes snapped towards them. The dragon’s lips pulled back to reveal wickedly sharp teeth while releasing a snarl to get the Night Fury to back off. The last half of the growl was lost in a crash of lightning which had Jackson startling slightly and drawing yellow eyes onto him.

Acting quickly, Hiccup ignored the warning growl and reached out towards the dragon’s horned nose; effectively taking the dragon’s attention away from the Druid. “There, there, fella. You've been asleep a long time, huh? I'm guessing you're pretty cranky and hungry too.”

The dragon didn’t fly away. Sparks did, however, jolt to life, dancing across the Skrill’s spikes forming little bolts of lightning which harmlessly discharged into the storm clouds. As Hiccup’s hand moved closer, the tiny bolts became larger and more intense. Another snarl from the purple dragon had Jackson yanking the Dragon Rider’s hand back with his staff. Not a second too soon as the Skrill’s maw snapped down where his hand should have been.

Fed up with its warnings being ignored, the purple dragon reared back and roared before diving down. Hiccup didn’t have the time to consider what to do next when the Skrill shot up from below to intercept Toothless at speeds the auburn-haired Dragon Rider had only ever associated with the Night Fury below him. The Skrill’s rage was palpable, lightning jumping across its body and into the clouds, further fueling the raging storm as sparks started to form in the dragon’s opened mouth.

“Toothless, stall turn!” Jackson shouted over the growing noise and much to the Night Fury rider’s surprise, the dragon shot straight up into the air. The staff around him dug into his chest as the Druid held on tighter to keep from falling. Oddly colored lightning blasted past them on all sides yet none of the strikes were close enough to harm any of them. It did, however, have the hair on Hiccup’s arms standing on end and his ears ringing. Below them, the Head of the Academy could hear the shouts and screams coming from the rest of the Dragon Riders before he suddenly felt weightless and they were diving down.

Vivid green eyes immediately caught sight of the Skrill heading straight for them. Toothless wasn’t backing down. Lightning once more built up in the purple dragon’s mouth and Hiccup could feel the Night Fury’s own charge building up within the dragon’s body. A plasma blast shot out moments before the Skrill could draw in enough lightning to release its own attack, interrupting the purple dragon’s concentration and disorienting it. The Skrill’s frightened shriek rent the air despite the blast not making contact but startled the dragon enough that it lost its charge and flew back into the clouds to recuperate.

“Nice,” Jackson sagged back, loosening his hold on the auburn-haired teenager slightly now the imminent danger had passed.

“Wow, that was impressive,” Hiccup barely heard Fishlegs's trembling voice and turned his head to see the outline of the other Dragon Riders flying through the cloud coverage to meet them.

“Sure, if by impressive you mean terrifying!” Snotlout shouted back, voice harsh and angry to mask his concern for his cousin and the Druid.

“Relax Snotlout, it wasn’t that bad. Hiccup knew what he was doing, right Hiccup?” Jackson prodded said Viking, yet vivid green eyes were fixed on where the Skrill had flown off into the clouds and it didn’t appear as if the chief’s son heard him.

The Night Fury rider nudged Toothless, changing course. “Follow me. I've got an idea.”

The Academy members shared a look with each other but complied without question. Something that Hiccup was thankful for since he was still in the process of formulating said idea. Together, the pack of dragons flew out of the cloud coverage and close enough to the ocean to hear the waves lapping below. When they were no longer amidst the thunderstorm, Hiccup turned in the saddle the best he could with Jackson behind him to go over his half-baked plan with the rest of the Dragon Riders.

“I'm gonna dive through the cloud from above and drive that Skrill down to you guys so we can all drive it into the water,” for 'a wet dragon head can't light its fire' as the adage went. Or, at least, that was what Gobber had taught at the Academy back when it was an Academy for teaching young Vikings to kill dragons rather than train them.

“Got it,” Tuffnut shouted; though a second later, blond eyebrows wrinkled together and he shook his head. “No, I don't. Sorry. Could we go back to the first part about how you're in the cloud, or is the cloud in you? It's all… It's sort of nebulous for me. Like a cloud in fact!”

Hiccup felt Jackson chuckling behind him; he, however, did not feel the same amusement the brunet did and he allowed himself a moment of weakness to slam his palm against his forehead. “Just do what everyone else does.”

“And how exactly are we gonna find the Skrill in that cloud?” Astrid huffed as she brought Stormfly up to his right to gain his attention.

“Toothless doesn't need to see to find something, remember?”

“Does that work in clouds?”

“Echolocation works in clouds,” Jackson confirmed and the auburn-haired teenager wondered how exactly the Druid knew so much about Toothless’s talents when they were still discovering things about the Night Fury species. Not to mention the Druid had never seen a dragon until coming to Berk, it was a little perplexing how he knew so much.

“Just keep him safe,” Astrid ordered and Hiccup didn’t know which one of them she was talking to at that point. He really didn’t have time to care either. Instead, the Head of the Academy pulled Toothless back and headed straight up into the sky. Once the Night Fury deemed them high enough, Toothless turned and tucked his wings in close as they plummeted towards the ocean.

“Toothless, now!” Hiccup knew he didn’t have to command the dragon, Toothless heard every word of the plan and knew what his part was. Yet the Dragon Rider felt better doing so, it gave him the illusion of control over a situation he had extraordinarily little control of.

The Night Fury let out a massive roar and a moment later, ear-plates began to twitch wildly before Toothless let out a triumphant grunt of satisfaction. A small burst of plasma came from the dragon—proving Hiccup’s earlier confidence that Toothless didn’t need his instructions—and exploded in a large burst of light. Vivid green eyes were drawn to a vague outline of the Skrill before things went dark again, but Toothless was on it. Another blast, this time closer to the other Strike-class dragon had the Skrill flying downwards in an attempt to escape from the Night Fury.

Soon the two dragons were out of the clouds and the Skrill pulled up much to Hiccup’s dismay. The other Dragon Riders were right on its tail though. Blasts of fire and magnesium flames brushed the spiny wings of the purple dragon courtesy of Hookfang and Stormfly. Lava blasts rained from above, driving the Skrill even closer to the water but they couldn’t quite manage to get it into the ocean.

“It's working!” Astrid's relief-filled shout came as Stormfly’s fires came dangerously close to the angry purple dragon’s tail, leaving behind a blackened spot on two of its spines.

“Time to give this dragon a bath,” Tuffnut cried as Barf and Belch appeared from out of the clouds above right on top of the Skrill.

“I'll bet he hates it as much as we do,” Ruffnut chortled, tugging on Barf’s horns. The gesture had Barf opening his mouth to release a large quantity of green gas directly above the fleeing dragon. A few more seconds and Barf would have let up, allowing Belch to ignite the explosive gas and force the Skrill into the ocean.

A bolt tipped with flames prematurely ignited the fumes before the Hideous Zippleback could distance himself and his riders away from the resulting explosion. Hiccup could only watch in horror when the twins and their dragon were blown back. A gasp from behind him had the chief’s son whirling around to see amber eyes fixated on Barf and Belch, only for both of them to let out a sigh of relief when the dragon came back to his senses and pulled up before they could take a plunge into the frigid waters.

“We're under attack!” Astrid screamed as Stormfly dodged a giant boulder hurtling her way.

“Hiccup!” Jackson yelped, jerking his weight to the side, unbalancing Toothless. The Head of the Dragon Academy didn’t have the time to yell at the Druid for his action, not with an arrow slicing through the air inches away from the Night Fury’s head. “Whoa! That was close.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Hiccup absentmindedly breathed out, working together with Toothless to maneuver through a barrage of arrows while keeping his pounding heart from ripping out of his chest.

“I think Snotlout just got hit by the Skrill’s lightning! He’s still on Hookfang’s back though and—Uh…” the brunet trailed off before the Dragon Rider had a staff pointing in front of him, directing his attention down at the ocean. “Is that…?”

“By the Norns, please no,” the older teenager prayed as Toothless flew dangerously close to the three longboats with a Skrill’s silhouette painted on each of the sails.

“Surprise, surprise, Hiccup! Oh! And you brought that pretty little Druid with you too!” Dagur cackled insanely from the flagship. The auburn-haired Dragon Rider was slightly surprised he could hear the deranged Viking standing on the deck of the bow of the longboat, but the man’s obvious interest in Jackson had Hiccup’s skin crawling. “Now get your dainty little hands off my Skrill.”

Men leapt from their hiding places along the longboats’ decks, firing bolts from their crossbows and launching rocks from trebuchets. Toothless easily dodged the bolts and blasted apart the boulders aimed his way, but Meatlug and Hookfang were also in the direct line of fire. Neither dragon was to be deterred and the Gronckle easily caught and devoured the boulder while Hookfang’s flames incinerated the bolts aimed his way.

“Let's get out of range before they reload,” Hiccup ordered as the Night Fury dodged the last boulder.

“Already ahead of you,” Fishlegs agreed, Meatlug whizzing by Toothless faster than the Boulder-class dragon should have been able to fly.

“Let's go, Bud,” the Night Fury rider whispered. Jackson must have heard him too because the brunet tightened his grip around the Dragon Rider’s waist. With speeds only a Night Fury possessed, Toothless shot forward easily surpassing Meatlug, and overtook the rest of the pack. The other dragons followed his lead while their riders occasionally glanced back to make sure they weren’t being followed. No one spoke, traveling in silence before finding a small rock formation—too small to be called an island but bigger than a sea stack—where they landed to regroup.

“Hey, Snotlout, are you okay?” Jackson was the first to break the tense silence they'd fallen into, sitting up straight to see over auburn hair and get a better view of the brunet Viking. “I thought I saw you get hit by the Skrill’s lightning.”

It wasn’t the Monstrous Nightmare’s rider who answered him, but Tuffnut. “Ha, he's better than okay. Did you see that lightning bolt to the head?”

The broad-shouldered Viking opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was his tongue and Hiccup couldn’t tell if his cousin knew that or not. Either way, the rest of what was to follow Snotlout’s tongue was a mess of blathering sounds than any real words. Even when Jackson went off in that strange other language, they all knew he was speaking in his native tongue. Yet this wasn’t any language, this was just babble.

“Tuffnut's right. Better than okay,” Astrid commented only to have Snotlout turn his blathering on her, making angry gestures in the shieldmaiden’s direction. “And making more sense than usual.”

“Okay, he's out of it, so the rest of us will—” the Head of the Academy started only to have his cousin interrupt him with a fresh round of angry babbles and a slap to his puffed-out chest with a balled-up fist. “Snotlout, we have no idea what you're saying.”

“Sure, we do,” Tuffnut spoke up with absolute certainty. “He said, ‘I'm perfectly fine.’” The Monstrous Nightmare rider perked up, blathering louder, and nodded his head fiercely. “Said it again. I told 'em.”

Upon turning his attention back to the rest of them, the skinny blond Viking was met with numerous disbelieving stares. Even his sister was looking at him with a pinched expression.

“What? I speak post-lightning Snotlout.”

“How many times has this kid been hit by lightning?” Jackson scratched his head with the crook of his staff, the crystal disappearing into his brown locks. He scowled and began untangling the cord from his hair.

“Kid? He’s older than you are,” Hiccup pointed out, glancing at the Druid.

“Age is a relative term and I feel older than I look,” the brunet replied after chewing on his bottom lip, amber eyes refusing to meet his own. “Still doesn’t answer how many times Snotlout has been hit by lightning.”

“Often enough,” Tuffnut shrugged as if it was no big deal, but this was the first time the chief’s son had heard about his cousin being hit with lightning once, let alone numerous times. Snotlout drew everyone’s attention back to him with a new string of babbles which had blond dreadlocks bobbing up and down with each sound. “Twelve… Oh, really? Twelve times.”

“Twelve times… and he’s still alive? How’s that possible?” Jackson scrunched up his nose and looked to the Vikings for answers.

Sadly, the Druid never got a response as Snotlout shouted, shaking his hand threateningly up at the sky while Tuffnut translated for him. “He said, ‘Enough talk. Dagur's all mine.’ And Tuffnut is the toughest of us all.” The broad-shouldered Viking’s fierce blue eyes snapped onto the blond Viking and growled out, causing Tuffnut to hastily amend his translation. “He implied the last part.”

Hiccup groaned, dropping his head in both hands. Once the Head of the Academy was sure he wasn’t going to yell at any of them—especially the sniggering Jackson behind him—the chief’s son turned to the only serious person currently on the mission.

“Well, you heard the man, Astrid. Take Snotlout and Fishlegs and try to keep the Berserker ships occupied. The twins, Jackson, and I will go after the Skrill. If Dagur gets his hands on it first, we won't stand a chance.”

“Be careful. The lightning is attracted to metal, and you two are wearing a lot more of it than the rest of us,” the shieldmaiden cautioned.

Vivid green eyes trailed down towards his metal appendage connected to the metal gears and pulleys that operated Toothless’s very metal tailfin and grimaced.

Jackson tapped the end of his staff against his boot, drawing both green and blue eyes to the brunet. “Don’t worry, Astrid, if it comes down to it, I have a plan.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed either,” Astrid warned, not even bothering to ask what his plan involved. Hiccup wasn’t sure if he should ask in her steed or not since Jackson tended to have the most unconventional approaches that had the habit of leaving him with more questions than answers or worrying about the Druid’s safety. For now, he chose to keep his mouth shut and gave the shieldmaiden a strained smile. A motion to the twins had them following him, flying in the opposite direction like the rest of the dragons.

Before they could get too far away, Hiccup vaguely heard the sounds of approaching Berserkers shouting over the crackling of thunder. The noise was followed by Snotlout’s babbling and the chief’s son hoped that nothing would happen to the trio or their dragons while they did their utmost to keep Dagur at bay. A glance back had him witnessing a burst of light coming from the water below as flames licked at the sides of the Berserkers’ longboats, setting one of the sails ablaze. The frown on his face morphed into a thin line of determination as a new plan came to mind.

“Okay, I think I have a way to get the Skrill into the water, but it's super risky,” the Head of the Academy turned his attention to the clouds in front of him and away from the ocean below.

“You, my friend, are speaking our language,” Tuffnut chuckled, barely being able to keep his excitement contained at the thought of creating chaos without repercussion.

“Basically, you're gonna fly blind through the cloud and have Barf let out as much gas as possible. Don't let Belch ignite it until you get to the other side,” vivid green eyes narrowed, watching as the twins exchanged a neutral glance before looking back at him.

“Causing a large enough explosion which might actually force the Skrill down towards the water to get away from the flames,” Jackson hummed, following his example and leaning to the right as Toothless banked to avoid a few sea stacks. “A bright idea; and as long as we work with the winds and not against them, they should make the explosion even larger.”

“Exactly, and we will be waiting below where Toothless can knock it down with a plasma blast,” Hiccup confirmed shifting the tailfin to slow down as lightning flashed near enough to their position to make the auburn-haired teenager’s nerves rise another few levels.

Tuffnut let out a moan of sheer ecstasy, placing a hand against his heart. “Feel my heart, because it comes forth and is bursting through my chest.”

“That's a lot of gas,” Ruffnut let out a groan of pleasure, blue eyes glazing over. “You have any idea how big a blast that will be?”

“No.”

“Me neither! How awesome is this?” the blonde Viking exclaimed excitedly throwing her arms up into the air. The twins whooped and high-fived each other, ecstatic with their role in the plan, before grabbing onto the Hideous Zippleback’s horns and leaning over Barf and Belch’s heads with matching spine-chilling grins on their faces. Working in perfect sync with one another, Tuffnut and Ruffnut pulled the dragon’s horns back and shot up into the clouds, flying into the lightning dragon’s domain.

“Think this will actually work?” Jackson asked as Toothless flew down and skimmed dangerously close to the water’s surface.

“No idea,” Hiccup answered truthfully as the wind began to pick up. Behind him, he could feel the brunet tense a moment before a loud explosion of fire lit the sky above. Both teenagers on the Night Fury’s back watched the thunderstorm above for any sign of the Skrill, yet even as the light began to fade from the blast, the Strike-class dragon didn't emerge.

“He's flying back up!” the Druid yelled as the winds changed directions, circling around them momentarily. Vivid green eyes darted back and forth, but the auburn-haired teenager couldn't see a thing through the darkness. Toothless, on the other hand, let out a roar and listened for a moment before launching them skywards into the thunderstorm without waiting around for his rider’s input.

They quickly found themselves amidst the clouds advancing on a dark shape, taking the form of the Skrill as lightning danced across the dragon’s body. Yanking back on the saddle, Hiccup jerked into action just in time to avoid getting hit by a gigantic lightning bolt that flashed across the space separating the two Strike-class dragons. It—thankfully—wasn’t close enough for the Skrill to absorb the bolt nor was it close enough for it to hit the metal the Night Fury and his rider depended upon.

“Okay, Bud, not too much. Just enough to bring him down,” Hiccup coached his partner as plasma began to build up inside of the Night Fury. Toothless did as instructed, letting loose a small plasma ball and decreasing his speed in preparation to catch the lightning dragon when it inevitably fell from the sky. The shot never connected with the purple dragon. The Skrill abruptly turned around.

Lightning skipped across the dragon’s spiny wings, down its back, and onto the spines around the Skrill’s mouth where it accumulated into a ball. Absorbing more of the lightning from the storm encasing them, the ball grew larger and larger. Only seconds before the plasma blast would have hit the dragon did the Skrill release the ball of pure lightning. The two attacks collided and much to Hiccup’s surprise, they canceled each other out in an impressive display of lightning and rings of plasma.

“Okay, that's a new one,” the Viking breathed out as his brain tried to process what his eyes had just witnessed. Nothing like this had ever happened. Toothless’s plasma had never been canceled out before. Dodged, yes; perpetually detonated, yes: canceled out? Never.

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy’s distraction cost him, giving the Skrill time to get away once more.

“Not a good thing then?” Jackson asked; however, he did not give Hiccup enough time to respond as a staff was thrust into his line of sight, directing his attention downwards to the distinctively darker patch of clouds moving away from them. “He’s headed back down.”

Feeling frustration well up inside of him, the Dragon Rider crouched lower to the saddle and directed the Night Fury to follow the Skrill. “Let's see how he handles this.”

Toothless was upon the purple dragon within seconds and forced it out of its dive. The Skrill had to fly alongside the Night Fury or risk colliding with them. Growling at being outmaneuvered, it retaliated by firing off three bolts of lightning from its mouth just as Toothless fired the same number of plasma blasts. Each round hit one another, canceling the other out, the concussive force pushed the two dragons away from each other and into the clouds.

“This is bad,” the auburn-haired Viking admitted, looking around for any signs of the Skrill in the cloud cover.

“It’s about to get worse,” Jackson cried out and he had to turn slightly to see the Druid looking straight up. Following his line of sight, Hiccup found a lightning-covered dragon charging up to attack.

“Toothless!” the Dragon Rider shouted and the Night Fury reacted, flying forward and barely missing the dragon’s generated lightning strike. “This is worse.”

Another, much larger and better-aimed lightning blast passed overhead; the hair on his head sticking up in a way that had nothing to do with flying and everything to do with lightning. Toothless spun into a barrel roll to dodge the attack and veered off to the left, followed by a nosedive down and out of the clouds.

The Skrill wasn’t to be shaken that easily and stuck close, assaulting them with another barrage of lightning. These blasts were nowhere near as powerful as the first few bolts of lightning and had the tendency of branching off into multiple directions at once, losing what power they did have and preventing them from reaching the Night Fury. Things were looking up. For all of a single moment. Then a natural strike of lightning hit the Skrill right as it launched its attack, increasing the bolt’s size exponentially.

“Oh, that one made my hair stand up,” Jackson shivered, clinging tighter to Hiccup as Toothless did another barrel roll.

The Dragon Rider grimaced but nodded his head. “We need a plan and fast.”

“That’s my cue,” the brunet said and Hiccup felt more than saw him let go of one end of his staff, pulling it over the Dragon Rider’s shoulder. A hand braced itself against his opposite shoulder and the Viking turned in time to see Jackson crouching on the Night Fury’s back with his staff in hand. The clear crystal gave off a dangerous glint as it swayed over the open air.

“Jackson! What are you doing?” Hiccup shouted, his heart leaping up into his throat.

“Improvising! You better catch me!”

“Wha— JACKSON!” Hiccup screamed his lungs out when the brunet let go of his shoulder and swirled on the balls of his feet. Allowing gravity to take hold, Jackson tipped backwards and fell. Toothless let out a shocked cry of his own and turned around without his rider needing to prompt him. Two pairs of green eyes watched as the blue cloak whipped in the winds as Jackson rapidly descended through the air, the wind pushing him faster downwards towards the ocean below and barely missing the bolt of lightning that passed between him and the Night Fury.

Toothless was forced to flare out his wings, catching the wind to prevent him from flying directly into the line of fire. Acid green eyes snapped towards the threat, landing on the purple dragon. A terrifying growl erupted from his throat as plasma began to build up once more.

The Skrill was momentarily disoriented—not knowing which target to go after—leaving the perfect opening. One Toothless took advantage of and blasted the lightning dragon. The plasma hit the Skrill squarely in the chest, knocking it unconscious and leaving it to plummet toward the ocean below. Hiccup was torn—although not as much as he should have been—between going after the Skrill to keep it out of Dagur’s hands and catching Jackson.

“We’ve got it!” Ruffnut shouted even as Toothless dove passed the twins and the Strike-class dragon towards the blue dot which was getting dangerously close to the water.

They were coming in too fast to safely pull up and needed to go faster still to catch Jackson. Neither Toothless nor Hiccup hesitated. The Night Fury grabbed ahold of the Druid with his paws before flaring out his wings. A sudden updraft caught them, greatly reducing their speed, but not enough to keep them from crashing into the ocean. A glimpse of Dagur’s longboats and Hiccup was hit with inspiration.

“Pull your wings in, Bud,” the Dragon Rider yelled even as he leaned forward to lie flat against the Night Fury’s back.

They hit the deck of the boat and rolled. Something dug into Hiccup’s back as they tumbled across the enemies’ longboat, but he ignored it in favor of trying to maintain his position in the saddle. He failed, despite his best efforts, and ended up skidding across the smooth wooden deck. Toothless was forced to let go of Jackson to roll onto his feet and shook his head to clear the bout of dizziness. The Viking immediately got up and looked to his side to see Jackson pushing himself to his knees without a scratch on him.

“Hiccup,” a voice growled out, causing the Dragon Rider’s head to whip up and curse mentally. Of all the longboats to land on, they just had to land on the one Dagur occupied. “My brother, what a pleasant surprise and you’ve brought me a present too. Or, I should say a spoil of wa-r.”

Dagur’s monologue was cut short as Jackson put his weight on his hands and swept the insane Viking’s legs out from underneath him with a sweeping kick. He went down faster than the Skrill, hitting the deck with a strangled cry of pain. Hiccup scrambled to Toothless’s side and climbed on in front of an already seated Druid.

“Sorry about your deck,” the auburn-haired teenager said insincerely as Toothless growled at the downed man.

“Not sorry about your head,” Jackson continued before the Night Fury took to the sky. They easily flew fast enough to get out of an enraged Dagur’s range of fire and back out to sea.

A crooked smile graced Hiccup’s face when he caught sight of the twins in the distance, flying away with the Skrill clutched safely in Barf and Belch’s foreclaws. Off to his other side, green eyes glimpsed Hookfang, Stormfly, and Meatlug already retreating back towards Berk. Meaning the various plans clobbered together had actually worked and there was one less worry he had to deal with.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hiccup did his best to glare at the brunet at his back. “What in Odin’s name were you thinking?”

“That you would catch me,” Jackson answered and all the anger that had been building up inside of him dissipated. The absolute surety the Druid had answered him with had blown him away. His mind was left blank of anything he was going to say—scream, yell, shout—to the brunet and he was left with a slacked jaw. Something inside of him shifted and Hiccup felt the heat rushing to his face at the amount of trust Jackson put in him.

Before he could say anything, lightning sparked to life drawing both amber and green eyes forward. Another crack of lightning came dangerously close to the downed purple dragon and, a moment later, proved to be too close as a bolt lashed out at the Hideous Zippleback causing the two-headed dragon to release his captive. The Skrill dropped in a freefall, doing all it could to get its wings working, and regained its composure with a victorious shriek.

Lightning built up around the Strike-class dragon. Aimed right at Barf and Belch. Before the conjured lightning could be launched at the Hideous Zippleback and his riders, a natural bolt of lightning from the clouds struck straight down as Jackson yelled out in his native tongue. The natural lightning bolt hit the purple dragon center mass and instead of powering the Skrill up as it had done before, the lightning disrupted the charge building up around the dragon. The result was a huge explosion and a concussive force that pushed Toothless back.

Hiccup was forced to shield his eyes from the intensity of the blast and when he lowered his arm, both dragons and the twins were gone. Roaring, the Night Fury darted forward and circled over to where the Skrill and the Hideous Zippleback had been moments ago. Three pairs of eyes searched the choppy waters for any signs of Ruffnut, Tuffnut, or Barf and Belch but all of them came up with empty.

A tug at his sleeve and a gesture skywards had Hiccup looking up to see the other Dragon Riders had joined them. Each of them wore similar grim expressions and he knew without having to ask they too saw what happened to the Thorstons.

“Anyone see where the twins ended up?” Hiccup called out, hoping one of them had seen something he hadn’t.

“No, the lightning was too intense,” Astrid shook her head, blue eyes busy scanning the choppy waters below. Snotlout spoke up in his post-lightning blabbering but the shaking of his head answered his cousin’s question when his words couldn’t.

“No,” Fishlegs responded last, causing the chief’s son to go pale as green eyes turned back towards the ocean.

Everything had been going right. They had gotten the Skrill, gotten away from Dagur, and had come out victorious. Yet, even before they could fully appreciate their victory, disaster had struck and two of their own were no longer with them.

“Did anybody see where the Skrill went?”

“No. But it isn’t down there and there is nothing to indicate the Skrill or Ruffnut and Tuffnut actually went into the water,” Jackson answered Fishlegs while simultaneously eradicating the growing fear inside Hiccup’s heart. Hope began to take root in the place of his fear as green eyes confirmed what amber eyes had already found.

“They were blown away in the resulting blast when the natural lightning met the Skrill’s,” the Head of the Dragon Academy observed. “The only question is where they ended up.”

Notes:

I am in love with the image of Jack jumping off Toothless and trusting Hiccup enough to catch him. That was so much fun to write, hopefully you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 29: A Skrill to a Storm

Notes:

Just how many people marathoned this story in this last week? O.o I had so many reviews to that extent that I was curious, not that I'm complaining. I'm so happy the lot of you are liking this and leaving me Kudos and Comments. It was just odd that so many people did it in the last week.

This part is a rant, please skip. Sorry, but I have to get this out. I know that I'm not the best of writers with grammar and spelling and I've grown as a writer by just writing stories and posting them on fansites. I cringe at reading some of my earlier works and just want to delete them because I'm so disappointed with myself, but I don't. So what I really hate about people is when they take their stories down which I've come to like and would enjoy rereading only to find the bookmarks no longer work because the authors have deleted them. I know there are some valid reasons why, but there are a lot of stories I would like to reread to give me inspiration or make me laugh when I had a bad day but I can't because they're just not there! GAH! It makes me so angry.

Again, sorry for the rant if you did read it, if not, read the story below and review. It will make me happy and not angry like I was above.

Chapter Text

“Hiccup, we need to land. The storm’s not going to abide forever,” Jack informed the Dragon Rider he was currently clinging to. The winds had done all they could to keep the storm at bay for them as long as possible at his request. However, their search for the twins had gone on far longer than even he could have anticipated and the winds weren’t comfortable holding the raging storm back any longer. Nature had to take its course, something the former frost spirit knew well enough from experience.

“Just a little longer, then we’ll go,” Hiccup called back and Jack didn’t hold back. He hit the teen on the shoulder and gave a nonverbal request to the winds to let some of the storm loose. The resulting yelp of pain from the auburn-haired teen was swallowed up by a crack of thunder as lightning danced around them.

“That wasn’t a suggestion. The storm is already picking back up and we had to return to the forge to pick up your shield, which I might add is made out of even more metal than both you and Toothless have combined. We are now in the middle of what used to be a midgrade thunderstorm which has now escalated to a severe thunderstorm border lining typhoon,” Jack yelled out over the roaring winds. “The others were smart enough to stay back and let their dragons rest and now we’re stuck out in the middle of the ocean.”

“You didn’t have to come with me you know,” the stubborn boy shouted back with a trace amount of annoyance tainting his voice.

The Guardian knew he didn’t have to come with, but he felt partly responsible for what happened to Ruffnut and Tuffnut. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to Hiccup either. Even if he wasn’t technically a Guardian of Childhood at the moment, the twins still believed in Jökul Frosti and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them without giving it his all. Jack also wasn’t about to let the auburn-haired teen get himself killed over the misguided belief he was to blame for putting Ruffnut and Tuffnut into this mess when it was no one's fault.

“Either you land and we wait out the storm, or I’m jumping off,” the ex-spirit threatened when Toothless continued to fly further into the storm.

Hiccup stiffened at the threat and Jack knew he’d won because it wasn’t an idle threat. It was a promise. The former Guardian of Fun would jump off the Night Fury with the knowledge the dragon and his rider would catch him. It was just the kind of person—and dragon—they were.

“Fine, Come on, Bud. Let’s get us outta here before we’re struck by lightning,” Hiccup conceded and the Night Fury banked back around, heading back towards land. He wasn’t heading towards the nearest island and Jack could hear the winds whining that they needed to get down as fast as possible.

“What about there,” Jack pointed out the dark island with a glow from either a dragon’s fire or an encampment of some sort.

“That’s Outcast Island,” the Dragon Rider spoke up after vivid green eyes followed the staff and glittering jewel dangling down towards the landmass. Toothless gave out a growl and huffed at the very name, causing the Viking to pat the Night Fury on the head to soothe him. “I know, Bud. It’s not my favorite place either.”

“I don’t think we got a choice,” the ex-spirit stated flatly as the lightning crackled around them again, this time closer than before. To make matters worse, the winds lost their tentative hold on the storm and rain began to pour down upon them in buckets. The Druid reached behind him and pulled up the hood of his cloak to keep as dry as possible. “We have to set down and wait out the storm.”

There was a moment of hesitation and another clap of thunder before the auburn-haired teenager conceded the point and flew Toothless towards the island. The Night Fury dodged a couple of lightning strikes which peppered the sky around the landmass while the rain started to come down harder if at possible. A whispered warning from the winds was all the warning Jack got before the winds rushed off at their truly terrifying speeds to join in with the severe thunderstorm, releasing the full force of nature upon them.

They were unable to get too far inland before the Dragon Rider was forced to make an emergency landing on a barren ledge dangerously close to what appeared to be the Outcast encampment. Hiccup hurried them off Toothless’s back and under an overhanging rock formation to shield them both from the weather and—hopefully—the Outcast Vikings as well.

Jack followed the auburn-haired teenager’s lead and hunkered down to keep out of sight, he doubted any of the Outcasts would spot them in this downpour. The immortal teenager could admit he might be wrong, which he was forced to do when flames from the encampment flickered to life at various intervals around the area. Straining his eyes through the downpour, he could make out guards walking around with covered torches lighting various lanterns around the encampment.

“I’m going to go check if the coast is clear. You stay here with Toothless out of the rain,” Hiccup commanded after he was sure they were safely hidden away behind the rock formation.

Jack rolled his eyes.

Yeah, like he was going to let the Dragon Rider go out on his own. Toothless definitely wouldn’t stay with him when his rider was in potential danger at the hands of an enemy they’d faced countless times before and didn't always make it out unscathed. If the dragon wasn’t staying, then the immortal teenager definitely wasn’t going to stay behind either.

“Snotlout’s right, you’re delusional if you think either of us is going to stay here,” Jack snorted, reaching into his pouch and retrieving a few ordinary-looking tiny rocks.

“But—” the boy did his best to dissuade the Guardian of Fun, only to have to scurry back out into the rain to catch up to the taller teen.

Jack was thankful for his staff at that moment. It kept him from making an utter fool out of himself after such a dramatic exit. It was only because of the gnarled piece of wood he wasn’t lying flat on his back due to the slick wet rocks. He would have been better off using both hands, however since his other hand held on to the pebbles that he couldn’t afford to lose—though, he would admit he wasn’t quite sure they would work despite all the time he’d put into them—the ex-spirit had to make do.

Jack stopped a few feet in front of the rock overhang shelter’s cover, the rain pounding all around him and soaking his clothes in mere seconds. “Well, are you going to lead the way, or am I?”

There were a few false starts, but finally, the auburn-haired teen found his voice. “Just stay close and run if I tell you to.”

The Guardian didn’t make any promises.

He followed Hiccup as the teen walked past him. It took some climbing to get around the boulders and rocks in the way before they hunkered down to creep closer to the edge where the steady glow of flames illuminated the otherwise dark island. The Dragon Rider was the first to peer over the cliff, only to duck back down when lightning crackled above them, lightening up their hiding place before darkening again.

They both waited for a few heartbeats before looking over the edge once again. Jack was slightly astonished when he spotted what looked to be a dragon arena like the one on Berk situated right below them. Only the ring below was obviously made of lesser-quality materials and cobbled together by idiots. Whereas Berk’s was completely made out of metal, the Outcast’s area dome was a collaboration of wooden logs and metal which appeared to be hastily rebuilt in some places. Fires were ablaze all around the arena and a rickety wooden bridge connected the cliff below with a trail Jack could only assume led back to the Outcast’s village.

“That's a lot of Outcasts,” Hiccup observed, watching as even more Vikings ran across the bridge towards the dragon arena. Their distant shouts of alarm could be heard above the howls of the winds.

Jack nodded his head and moved one of the pebbles between his fingers, rolling it back and forth, ready to use if necessary.

“What are you up to, Alvin?”

“All I know is he's planning something big with that Skrill,” Ruffnut answered her leader as she crept closer to Hiccup, glancing down at the frantic Outcast Vikings below.

Amber eyes blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating and when the image didn’t change, the Guardian almost bolted over to the blonde Viking. His need to make sure she was all right was strong, but the need to keep her alive was stronger still. Any sudden movements might draw one of the Outcasts' attention and the last thing they wanted was attention. Instead, he satisfied himself that while Ruffnut appeared as if she had been swimming in a muddy lake, she was whole and relatively unharmed save for a few scratches across her cheeks.

“Alvin has the Skrill?” Hiccup questioned only to let out a surprised yelp when he realized it wasn’t Jack he was talking to. “Wait, Ruff?! You're… you're alive! I—I don't believe it! Where—Where's Tuff?

There was a pause before the blonde shook her head slowly. “He didn't make it, Hiccup,” Ruffnut spoke gravely, dropping her head.

Jack’s hold on the pebble between his fingers tightened, the pain from it biting into his skin didn’t even register for a moment. His grip loosened when he felt a slight tingle of electricity and he forced himself to keep his emotions in check. He wasn’t the only one.

“What?!” the auburn-haired teen cried out, only remembering to keep his voice down when lightning crackled above their heads.

Ruffnut then glanced up, revealing the mischievous grin she had been hiding. “Kidding! He's right behind you.”

Jack felt he should scold the girl for playing such a cruel trick; however, he was too busy looking for her brother to say anything. There was no one behind them, only more rocks and a dead corpse of a tree; Tuffnut was nowhere to be found.

“What's up, Hiccup? Cool disguise, huh?”

Amber eyes blinked a few times when he heard the rough voice of the other Thorston. Placing the pebble back in his pouch, the brunet walked over to the tree after he determined it was where the voice had originated from. Jack crouched next to the corpse and tapped the wood. He was rewarded with a slight echo which had him searching for an opening.

“He’s in the tree,” the Druid ascertained, wondering how the blond Viking managed to get into the husk of the tree when he couldn’t find an opening large enough for someone his size to fit through.

“Hey! Jackson’s here too!” Tuffnut laughed upon hearing his voice, which made the Guardian smile. “It's kinda itchy in here.”

“Not bad of a disguise. Going for the Hamadryad appearance I see,” Jack commented, taking a step back to look at the tree as a whole, and rubbed his chin in consideration.

“Yeah, yeah, Tuff hollowed out that tree so he couldn't be seen. Problem is he can't move,” Ruffnut explained as the rest of their group withdrew from the edge and came closer to Tuffnut’s Hamadryad disguise.

“And I have bark beetles in my pants. I'm starting to like them,” Tuffnut’s muffled voice tacked on. Toothless, who had moved closer to sniff at the tree, grimaced before retreating back to Hiccup’s side. Not that Jack blamed him; he could have done without the mental image the comment conjured up. “Hey, fellas. A little to the left. Really scratch around down there. See what you can find.”

Hiccup made a similar face as the Night Fury had moments prior. “That's an image I could do without.”

“We all could have lived without,” Ruffnut corrected and the ex-spirit nodded his head along with her. As Jamie would have said, they would need brain bleach to get that image out of their minds forever.

“Wait a second, how did you guys end up here?” the Head of the Academy shook his head and changed the subject to get all of their minds off the mentally scarring images. Maybe when all of this was over—and he had found a way back home—Jack would get Toothiana to permanently remove the images from his memories.

“Alvin grabbed the Skrill out of the water after we were all blasted away by that lightning bolt,” the Thorston currently not disguised as a Hamadryad explained. “We decided to follow it.”

“Weird, right?” the Hamadryad-disguised Viking asked.

There was nothing weird about it to Jack. He had followed many of people who'd caught his attention as an invisible spirit. Half the time, he would lose interest after a few days or find someone new to follow when he grew bored. Still, it had led to many learning experiences for him.

“No! Actually, it was good that you followed it,” Hiccup said, his voice rising ever so slightly as he praised the twins.

“We knew that… That's why we did it,” Tuffnut the Hamadryad jumped to correct himself. His voice was only slightly hesitant even though they all knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Okay,” the Night Fury rider nodded his head, choosing not to go down the road they were currently on and backtracking to Alvin and the Skrill. “Let's figure out what Alvin plans on doing with that dragon.”

Together, the three of them crept back towards the ledge and laid down on the rocks, uncaring their clothes were getting muddy. It didn’t matter much since they were already drenched. Though, Jack had to admit, he was getting cold due to the rain and wind, but mostly because the rocks they were laying on were slowly stealing his limited body heat.

Glancing over, amber eyes blinked as Hiccup pulled out a spyglass from inside his vest and looked through it at the area below. Ruffnut and himself, on the other hand, couldn’t see clearly what was going on. The distance and the rain made it near impossible to see but they could make out some movements like a few dots fighting to walk to the arena and another group walking around. Though, Jack suspected they were trying to drag out the Skrill by chains and ropes.

“There it is,” Hiccup confirmed the ex-spirit’s suspicions as another dot—obviously, a dragon—was pulled out from one of the stalls.

“Yeah,” Tuffnut agreed from inside the tree.

“Man! This is not good,” the Head of the Dragon Academy continued and Jack didn’t think he was even listening to Tuffnut at all. That or Hiccup wasn’t aware he was speaking aloud in the first place.

“No,” hissed the faux Hamadryad and Jack looked over the auburn-haired teenager’s hunched form at Ruffnut with a raised eyebrow.

“We are in serious trouble,” Hiccup bit his bottom lip. The blonde Viking looked back at him and shook her head no, shrugging her shoulders.

“With a capital ‘T.’ No, ‘S’,” Tuffnut confirmed. There was a moment where both the Guardian and Ruffnut waited to see who would speak next. The Hideous Zippleback rider motioned to her leader with a jerk of her head. Jack disagreed with a shake of his head and gestured to the Tuff-tree with his staff. "Wait, would you capitalize ‘serious’ or ‘trouble’? Both?”

The brunet grinned widely and Ruffnut lowered her head in defeat.

Hiccup lowered his spyglass and glared over at the tree, grunting angrily.

Even without seeing his leader, Tuffnut seemed to sense his irritation and quickly worked to rectify the situation. “I'll shut up now.”

Hiccup sighed and turned back to the happenings down below. Flashing a grin at Ruffnut, Jack followed the auburn-haired teenager’s example and looked back down. He had to squint which did nothing for the Guardian since he still couldn’t make out what was going on. The burst of lightning from the Skrill along with multiple dots chaotically running away from the bolts were pretty self-explanatory and could be seen even from this distance.

“Hang on,” the Night Fury rider said, further leaning over the edge to get a better view. His next word was said with such anger that Jack was astonished by the hatred behind it. “Mildew.”

“He’s the guy that hated dragons and betrayed Berk, right?” Jack asked Ruffnut, vaguely remembering the name from somewhere. The blonde Viking nodded her head in confirmation, her own face distorted in an angry sneer. There was more of a story there and even though his curiosity was piqued, now was definitely not the time to ask.

“That's weird,” Hiccup murmured, the anger gone from his voice. “Those look like Berserker soldiers.”

Hearing the proclamation, the ex-spirit and the blonde Viking exchanged looks before turning their attention to the ground of dots below. There was a new group of dots entering the arena. They didn’t look much different from the other dots to them, but the winds were telling Jack there was something different about the group. Hiccup confirmed his suspicions a moment later.

“Dagur! Dagur and Alvin together. With the Skrill? Really not good.”

Toothless growled as lightning crackled. The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood on end and he looked up to see the lightning arc ominously above their heads before a thunderous boom ripped through the air. Once again, the winds were howling in rage and the rain was pounding against them relentlessly. There was definitely more going on here than what they could see on the surface.

“I think it is time for us to get going,” the ex-spirit narrowed his eyes as lightning hit the Outcasts’ dragon dome and the Skrill let loose a powerful blast of its own. The arc of lightning came dangerously close to hitting them, which they avoided by ducking down behind the rocks. Tuff-tree wasn’t as lucky as the arc connected with the tree's corpse and blasted the wood to pieces. Miraculously, Tuffnut was unharmed but visibly shaken with his hair standing on end.

“No, we have to sneak into town and find out what Dagur and Alvin are up to,” Hiccup countered, putting the spyglass away. Logically, the Night Fury rider had a point, however, the winds howling in warning were telling him differently and he was torn between the two. “Neither I nor Jackson can go, they'd recognize us. Well, Jackson might be able to get by Alvin but Dagur would recognize him. Ruff?”

“Outcast food gives me gas,” the blonde Viking said, scrambling back away from the ledge and towards a large boulder. Two heads appeared around either side of it as Barf and Belch peered out from their hiding place, the right head nudging Ruffnut. She reached out and hugged Barf to her in comfort.

“Yet another image I can live without,” the Head of the Academy mumbled with a disgusted look on his face before looking to their last remaining option. “Okay, Tuff! Looks like you're up. You need to go down there and get as much info as you can without being seen.”

“Way ahead of you. I'll move like the wind,” Tuffnut agreed, moving his hand around in wild gestures. A moment later, he had to jump out of the way when lightning came out of nowhere and struck not far from his feet. Jack was the only one to hear the indignant cries of the winds threatening the blond Viking with another bolt of lightning if he insulted them that way again. “They won't even see me coming!”

The winds took their final revenge by whipping past the blond Viking as he made his way to the edge to climb down. A forceful gale shoved Tuffnut but to the other Dragon Riders, it appeared he simply slipped on the wet rocks and tumbled gracelessly down the cliffs. The Druid had a feeling the only reason the Hideous Zippleback rider hit every tree limb and small cliff—breaking his fall but leaving some bruises—was because the winds were controlling his descent. They might have been mad at Tuffnut but the winds weren’t about to let him die. Jack would be angry with them otherwise.

“Crap!” Hiccup scrambled to grab his spyglass once more to get a glimpse of Tuffnut. A loud sigh of relief left his lips a second later followed by a groan. “He landed right in front of a guard. We’ll have to get the dragons and go rescue him.”

The Head of the Dragon Academy was already up and would have been on Toothless’s back if not for Jack catching him with the hook of his staff. “Wait, give him a chance. He can do this.”

Hiccup kneeled back down, but only after the immortal teenager gave another jerk on his staff and forced him down. The auburn-haired Dragon Rider clearly wasn’t happy and wanted to run down there, his whole body tense. However, he needn’t have to worry since the dot that was Tuffnut’s stood in front of the other dot for a stretch before he walked away unharmed and made his way across the wooden bridge.

Jack looked over in time to see the Head of the Dragon Academy wiping the rain out of his eyes and glancing back at the Tuff-dot. “He actually did it.”

“Well, yeah, Tuff knows how to think on his feet, duh,” Ruffnut replied and the Guardian had to hide the grin on his face when Hiccup just gave her an unimpressed look.

“Come on, let’s go back to that overhang and get away from this rain while we wait,” Jack suggested as the winds picked up some of the rain and blew it away from their location.


It was an hour before Tuffnut returned with news and Jack was impressed with his bout of espionage. He apparently tricked all of the Outcasts and Berserkers into thinking he was Berserker Buffnut and only Mildew recognized him. However, since he too had been hit by the Skrill’s lightning, he could do nothing more than jabber away in babbles no one understood. The Guardian would have to remember to tell Snotlout about it, the burly Viking would sure get a kick out of Berk’s traitor suffering from the same fate as he had.

Other than Mildew, no one questioned him. Not even Dagur when Tuffnut had come face to face with him. It only reinforced Jack’s opinion of the Chief of the Berserker Tribe and furthered his belief the redhead was not all there mentally.

“But the plan Tuff, what is the plan?” Hiccup groaned as they sat around the glowing heated rocks courtesy of Toothless’s plasma blasts. Jack knew the son of Berk’s chief was impressed with Tuffnut’s accomplishments but was more worried about what Dagur and Alvin were up to fully appreciate the irony of the situation.

“The plan is to smash those dirty Hooligans to pieces with both fleets! It's gonna be awesome,” the Viking with dreadlocks shouted excitedly, smashing his fisted hand into his other hand and pulling them apart waving his fingers as if it had been an explosion.

“You, uh, you do realize we're the Hooligans?” the auburn-haired Dragon Rider asked and the excitement on Tuffnut’s face disappeared.

“Oh, right,” Tuffnut nodded his head before grinning wildly once more. “Still gonna be awesome.”

Fingers clenched into the fabric of his pants as Hiccup dropped his head onto his knees. The Head of the Academy grunted and got up. His head hung low as he started to pace back and forth, fingers rubbing at his chin as he thought aloud.

“Two fleets and a Skrill are gonna be pretty tough to beat.”

“No, Alvin has made it pretty clear. Dagur doesn't get the Skrill until after they destroy Berk,” Tuffnut waved off his leader’s growing concern and lounged back up against the wall lazily. “I think they have trust issues.”

Hiccup’s metal foot almost slipped out from under him when he stepped in a small unnoticed puddle, but Jack was quicker and held out his staff from where he sat just a few feet away. The Dragon Rider’s hand flayed out and caught the end. He looked over to see what he had used to steady himself on and when vivid green eyes found the gnarled piece of wood, the Night Fury rider looked at the Druid and smiled.

The smile fell from his face though and he whipped around to look at Tuffnut. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said they have trust issues,” Belch’s rider sat up straight.

“No, you said ‘Dagur doesn't get the Skrill until after the attack.’ Think about it,” Hiccup said, his voice working up and excitement coloring every word. There was a plan forming there and they could only watch as the Leader of the Dragon Training Academy became animated. “No Skrill, no alliance. No alliance, no invasion.

“Tuff, I need you to get back into town and distract the arena guards,” the auburn-haired teen said waving his arms around before pointing out of the cave and in the direction of the arena. “Toothless and I are going to free that Skrill.”

“Uh, hang on a sec,” the blond Viking raised his hand to get Hiccup’s attention, halting the determined rant that was soon to follow. “I'm pretty sure Dagur threatened to cut my legs off.”

“So?” Ruffnut asked unfazed and Jack was reminded that he was dealing with Vikings. Most of Berk’s population was missing at least one limb and the older the Viking, the more limbs they were missing. The only exceptions to the rule were the children and a select few Viking warriors.

“Just wanted to get that out there,” Tuffnut responded, though he didn’t seem too sure of himself.

The immortal teenager couldn’t blame him. He had felt Pitch snap his staff which was, in essence, an extension of his spiritual self, despite its own entity. That had hurt like a bitch and Dagur was threatening to do the same to Tuffnut, so he could understand the slight hesitation. Didn’t mean that would stop Jack if it came down to it and it didn’t seem to stop the blond Viking either.

“Ah, fine! I'm going. And my legs are on your head. But not… I mean, not… you know what I'm saying. You'll be thinking about these legs if I… lose 'em,” Tuffnut glared at his sister. The Guardian thought there was something more going on there, a silent conversation between the twins about what to do if he didn’t come back alive, and he wasn’t about to interrupt. He only wished he could have done something similar with his sister before he first met with the Man in the Moon.

“And what are me and Ruffnut supposed to do?” Jack asked, turning his attention to Hiccup to give the twins some time. The other teen looked slightly sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head and looked to Toothless at his side for an answer.

“Uh, you and Ruffnut are going…going to stay behind on Barf and Belch for a hurried escape?” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy offered. Toothless let out a small shriek and drew his head back, glaring at his rider before running around Jack and putting himself between him and the Zippleback. Amber eyes maintained their gaze on Hiccup, a delicate brow raising, and folded his arms over his chest causing the auburn-haired teenager to sigh, his arms falling to his sides and shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I really didn’t think you’d go for it either.”

“You’re right,” the Druid climbed onto Toothless back to the Night Fury’s pleasure. “I’m going with you and Ruffnut can keep watch over Tuffnut from the skies above.”

“Fine, let’s go,” Hiccup sighed in defeat and mounted Toothless. As he situated himself in the saddle, the Dragon Rider leaned over to whisper into the Night Fury's ear-plates; though he probably thought Jack couldn’t hear him and that was a misconception which the Druid would graciously allow him to have. “Traitor.”

Chapter 30: A Deceiving View

Notes:

I no longer have internet (I upload at coffee shops now, thank you free WiFi) nor access to Netflix and suddenly they come out with new episodes to Race to the Edge? That's just not fair! Though, I am glad I get so many new readers! Thanks to all you marathoners who've read my story and left a review and more thanks goes out to those long time readers who've stuck with me through all this.

tricksterash: I appreciate that you like how delightfully horrible Dagur is and just keep that in mind while reading future chapters. *grins evilly*

hui: I haven't even finished this story yet and you're already asking me about Race to the Edge? It's taken over two years for me to write what I have and start posting. No matter how much I wish I could rewrite all of Race to the Edge episodes (or at least the ones I've seen) to incorporate Druid!Jackson into them, I don't have the time. Sorry. *Goes and cries in the corner because I very much want to but I'm being a realist here and don't have the time.*

BlackMoonFantasy: Yeah, Toothless has done a one-eighty when it concerns Jack, but that was what he did with Hiccup in the first movie. I was trying to draw some parallels there.

Anim3Fan4Ever: Slow burn is slow, I know. That has something more to do with the fact when I outlined this story it was 10 Chapters long (yes, that is correct it was only 10 Chapters) and then I watch Defenders of Berk again and wanted to add one episode then another episode in until I pretty much was rewriting the whole series and those chapters got shoved in between the 'Hiccup and Jack met' and the 'HiJacks' portions of the story. Besides, no matter how much I love sappy romance, fluff, and PWP stories, I can't write them. It's one of my faults, even though I've tried writing them, I suck at them.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tuffnut was the first to leave, carefully climbing down the cliffside. This time without the winds' assistance. Ruffnut followed after her brother, taking to the skies on Barf while Belch's head poked through the clouds, forlornly watching his rider. Hiccup had them hang back for a bit to give Tuffnut sufficient time to reach the dragon arena and distract the guards before they too flew out.

Toothless effortlessly blended in with the dreary skyscape, only the red of his tailfin conspicuous but easily overlooked from a distance in the current weather. However, it was a dead giveaway close-up and they ended up landing on a partially obscured cliff not far from the dragon ring as a precaution. There, they made the rest of the trek on foot, stealthily climbing down the rocks and closer to the arena where they kept an eye out for any lingering guards.

“Good job, Tuff. That was quick,” Hiccup praised the absent Viking when they encountered three burly Outcasts—easily four sizes larger than the single scrawny teenager sent to distract them—knocked out. He got halfway to his knees before Jack reached out and jerked him back down. A grunt of pain left the auburn-haired teenager as he was roughly yanked behind the still crouching brunet and vivid green eyes searched out the Druid's own but amber orbs never looked back.

“Hiccup, use your head. That’s not Tuffnut’s handy work,” Jack said, his eyes darting around the arena looking for any signs of life. He clocked that the pools of water surrounding the guards weren’t just from the pouring rain but tinged red. They weren’t knocked unconscious. They were dead. Jack knew none of the Dragon Riders could kill three fully grown Outcasts on their own, not without causing a commotion and drawing attention to themselves.

“Jackson—” the Dragon Rider started, but the ex-spirit wouldn’t hear any of it and stood up.

“No, Hiccup, you stay here,” the Guardian in him was kicking in.

He easily jumped from the ledge onto the framed dome of the arena. From there he shimmied down the metal and wood to a lower area where he dropped down. His boots splashed in the water beneath him, but he didn’t dare stand from his crouched position. Instead, he looked around, seeing five more Outcasts dead in the arena, hidden from view inside of the cell-like stall of the Skrill. The dragon, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s gone,” Jack called out to the agitated teenager, standing up when he was sure there was no one else around.

“What?” Hiccup hissed and amber eyes shot skyward. It would seem Hiccup didn’t listen any better than the eternal teenager did as both he and Toothless were perched on top of the dome frame in plain view for anyone to see.

“The Skrill, it’s gone. Dagur must have already taken it,” the Druid answered through gritted teeth.

A banging noise had Jack whirling around, staff at the ready and his hand going into his pocket only for him to relax when he saw Tuffnut standing up on the viewing platform of the arena. The blond Viking hadn’t noticed him yet, having braced his hands against his knees to catch his breath. Yet when blue eyes glanced down into the arena, they did a double take upon noticing Jack.

“Oh, good, I thought I was too late,” Tuffnut heaved out between gasps of air, looking around at the downed guards. “Nice job with those guards, by the way. Where's the Skrill?”

“We don’t have it,” the immortal teenager absentmindedly answered, amber eyes searching for the best way to get back up and out of this place. The numerous bodies were starting to creep him out.

With a running start, he used his staff like a pole vault and propelled himself upwards as a streak of lightning arced across the sky. His crystal caught the light, reflecting it back into his eyes and momentarily blinding him. It wasn’t enough of a distraction to prevent him from grabbing ahold of a low-hanging shaft when it was within reach but, for a split second, the afterimage of a Skrill with a strangely shaped shadow was seared across his retinas. He didn't have time to mull over the vision, more preoccupied with hanging onto the wooden support beam that had been knocked out of place. With his remaining momentum, the brunet swung his legs up, wrapping around the bent section of the dome's frame, and hung there for a moment to catch his bearings.

“Well, if you don't have the Skrill, and if you don't have the Skrill, and I don't have the Skrill,” Tuffnut puzzled out, pointing from Hiccup to Jack to himself, “then who has the Skrill?”

“We don’t know,” Jack grunted, swinging himself around so he was sitting on top of the support beam.

A distant scream had them all stopping dead in their tracks. As one, they glanced in the direction the scream had come from. A beat and then the warning horns blared from the Outcast's main settlement. The sound struck each of them in their hearts and it was as if a fire had been lit under their feet, which got them all scrambling to get out of there.

“We gotta go. Tuff, you go get Ruff,” Hiccup called out as he nudged the Night Fury onwards. 

Acid green eyes containing slitted pupils took a moment to study the dome's framework before jumping onto a particularly robust beam. Toothless expertly maneuvered across the dome. Balancing on the chains as he zigzagged towards the bent frame. When they were over the top of Jack, the Dragon Rider reached down, offering a hand. He wasn’t able to reach the brunet from his position. He could, however, grab hold of the staff Jack offered up. Between the three of them, they were able to swing the immortal teenager up and onto Toothless’s back.

A glance from acid green eyes to confirm the brunet was indeed in the saddle and a nudge from his rider had the Night Fury bounding to the top of the dome. “We're gonna try and find that Skrill before Dagur does.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack gasped for breath, his heart pounding as he brought his staff over Hiccup’s shoulder and grabbed hold of the other side to hang on. “Let’s fly.”

That was all the incentive Toothless needed to spread his wings and take to the sky, flying straight into the raging storm above. Glancing below, amber eyes caught sight of squadrons of Outcasts mobilizing, yet they were not headed for the dragon dome as he expected but down to the port. Most of them boarded two longboats while several more boats were already manned and heading out to sea. Following those boats, Jack found a different armada of longboats—these branded with Skrills on their sails rather than the Outcast crest—sailing away from the island. But what had Toothless chasing after the fleeing longboats was the vessel wreathed in lightning among their ranks.

As they grew closer, the ex-spirit identified the vessel wreathed in lightning belonging to the Berserker's armada, which didn’t come as a surprise. What did come as a surprise, however, was that there was an Outcast longboat amidst the Berserker's armada, blocking the vessel and preventing their escape. To make matters worse, the two boats were locked in a savage skirmish. The Outcasts hurling spears while the Berserkers fired back with their crossbows.

“There’s Dagur,” Jack easily spotted the deranged Viking, his skin crawling at the redhead’s presence.

“He’s fighting Alvin,” Hiccup nodded, Toothless circling high above the two longboats. “And there’s the Skrill.”

As they banked around, the Guardian saw the purple dragon flailing about, futilely fighting to fly away. There was no way it could flee, the Skrill was tethered to the deck of Dagur’s vessel with thick ropes attached to some kind of harness. No matter how much the dragon thrashed and struggled with the restraints, the Skrill could not break free.

Sad amber eyes watched on as Dagur grabbed hold of the ropes restraining the Strike-class dragon and yanked. An angry shriek came from the beast as lightning chaotically sparked from around its body before forming into a ball. A ball which the Chief of the Berserker Tribe turned on Alvin, who was a mere foot away from the deranged Viking, without regard for his own safety or that of his ship. For such a large man, the Outcast chief was quick on his feet and flung himself out of the way, barely.

“He can control the dragon’s lightning,” Hiccup’s ominous observation did not make the ex-spirit feel better, having come to the same conclusion himself and wishing he was wrong. Living in denial wasn't impractical. Jack was happy to live in denial, but Hiccup had to go and take that away from him. Now he was forced to face the facts and the facts were that Dagur the Deranged—the bastard who offered to buy him from Hiccup—had a dragon that could control lightning that canceled out Toothless’s plasma blasts and had a hatred for the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.

Things were not looking good for them.

Another jerk from Dagur had lightning arcing out at Alvin and the burly man was forced to yet again dodge on the already limited deck’s space. He was losing ground. The space becoming even smaller when the deck caught fire from a stray bolt of lightning. The deranged Viking didn’t care—or didn't notice—his vessel was on fire. He just laughed harder, a maniacal edge to his voice, and jerked on the rope once more.

Alvin was left with no other option. He jumped overboard into the turbulent waves to escape the latest lightning strike. No matter how much Jack strained his eyes, he didn’t see the Outcast chief resurface. Not that it kept Dagur from forcing the Skrill to fire blast after blast of lightning into the violent waters where Alvin was last seen.

Jack couldn’t help himself. He hid his face in the wet fur of Hiccup’s vest. A hand releasing his grip on his staff in favor of clinging to the fur, feeling for the other teenager’s heartbeat that was pounding through his ribcage and into the Guardian's hand.

“That's not good,” said Hiccup, his voice vacant of all emotions, and the ex-spirit wondered if this was his first time witnessing a murder in cold blood. 

Jack Frost regularly dealt with the dead.

Winter had a high mortality rate and he'd stumbled upon his first casualty a sennight after he became a spirit. A poor young girl, huddling in the back of an alley, lighting matches, one by one, to warm herself while slowly freezing to death. Jack had done all he could, he'd screamed himself horse shouting at passers-by and jumped in front of countless people only for them to walk through him, all in hopes of getting their attention and leading them to the little girl. His efforts were for not; invisible to all, even the young girl whom he'd stayed with until the end, regaling her with tales left unheard. The next morning, he'd finally been able to lure a passer-by to her corpse with a patch of slippery ice and solemn raps of his staff against the alley's walls. Since then, the spirit learned to use unconventional means to lead people to their lost loved one’s corpses whenever possible, but killing wasn’t in his nature.

Winter killed people; Jack Frost didn't.

He could deal with destroying Pitch’s minions because they weren’t natural. They weren’t alive. They were physical manifestations of fear and anger and hatred and they were wrong. The Guardian could eradicate them with no problem; because he was removing a contamination; because he was eliminating a toxic blight; because it wasn't murder.

Jack couldn't stand murder.

“I need to come up with a new plan, Bud, and fast,” Hiccup murmured quietly and the ex-spirit wished he could be of more use. He wished he was still Jack Frost with frost at his fingertips and bolts of ice conjured with a swing of his staff. But here, in this timeframe, the only Jack Frost in existence was the Jökul Frosti he—Jackson Overland—told stories about.

“That’s it!” the immortal teenager shouted, pulling his face from the brown fur vest. “I have an idea.”


“For the record, I don’t like this idea,” the Dragon Rider said from Toothless’s back as the Night Fury hovered over the rock stack Jack currently stood on.

The ex-spirit just shook his head and pulled his hood up, tugging the edges down over his eyes. “You don’t have to like it; you just have to get Dagur here. Now, how do I look? Can you see my face?”

Hiccup scrunched up his nose and really looked at him before shaking his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Good,” the brunet spoke from his diaphragm, making his voice sound a bit fuller while adding a resonant quality to it, in order to disguise himself further. From the look on the auburn-haired teen’s face, he succeeded. “Now you just have to do your part.”

With one last look, Hiccup nodded his head and nudged the Night Fury to fly off towards the Berserker occupied Outcasts' encampment. Jack watched him go, worrying at his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure his plan would work regardless of what he told the Viking. The Berserker chief hadn’t seen him with his cloak on before, excluding the skirmish that had taken place yesterday, and the Druid hoped Dagur hadn’t been paying too close attention. He didn’t need the deranged Viking recognizing him, or else his plan would fail.

The next part would all depend on Hiccup’s skills as an actor and Dagur’s gullibility. He had a few parlor tricks ready to help sell the whole charade, but they needed to be carefully timed for things to work. Other than that, they needed a whole bunch of luck to pull this off.

Jack waited perfectly balanced on the stack of rocks, not bothered by the winds whipping around him or the rain pelting down. It was the act of waiting that bothered him as he fingered the cloth in his hands. Lightning struck near him, the smell of ozone pungent and the thunder resounding in his ears. Yet, the ex-spirit only became tensed at the sight of Toothless hurtling his way, illuminated by the bolts of lightning dogging the Night Fury duo's heels.

Jumping from rock formation to rock formation behind Toothless, Dagur used his hold on the rope tethers hooked to the Skrill’s harness to glide between the vast space from one stack to the next. The immortal teenager watched and waited with bated breath for the Berserker to enter in range. He fought off the urge to act impulsively and held on tightly to the cloth in his hand. Finally, when Hiccup and Toothless passed by the tallest stack—he had picked his perch for the very reason—and Dagur was a few rock formations to his right, the Druid threw the piece of folded sunshine up and let the winds do the rest.

Light burst forth from the scrap of cloth and Jack could hear Toothless’s shriek off to the side. The Skrill gave out a shriek of its own, only the brunet knew this one wasn’t faked for the benefit of their little charade.

“Who are you to dare and wake me from my slumber?” the ex-spirit croaked out lowly, but he knew both Hiccup and Dagur heard him with the winds amplifying his voice. The deranged Viking looked around wildly before his eyes finally settled on the billowing blue cloak that stood out in the otherwise droll surroundings.

“Who am I? Who are you?” the Berserker chief demanded, grinning widely, and began to laugh. “Trick question! I don’t care. Take that!

Dagur yanked hard on the leads to the Skrill and the dragon roared as lightning jumped from its wings to its head to form the familiar blast of lightning which was directed straight at him. Jack didn’t move though; he wasn’t going to dodge this one. It was what he was waiting for, what he had hoped Dagur would do, and he hadn’t been let down. Swiftly, the brunet reached into his pouch and grabbed the handful of pebbles he had spent hours poring over.

Liget,” he whispered harshly and threw the small rocks. He’d practiced the light spell he used to defeat the Dream Pirate a few times during sleepless nights to get it to work. He had never actually managed to recreate the effect, but he’d generated sparks of light in his clear crystal during his latest attempt. However, with the pebbles—which were actually small pieces of iron—his goal was to use them as a focus to spark the spell to life instead of using the fragment from the Crystal Cave. Nothing happened and he found himself repeating the spell again and again with more distress with each repetition. “Liget… Liget…. Liget…

Ligetræsc,” the Druid all but screamed as the lightning was almost upon him. The word tasted unfamiliar even on his own lips while his eyes burst open—when had he closed them in the first place?—and he reflexively held his staff up high. The small iron nuggets, ferried off by the winds, glowed with power before the Skrill’s lightning arced out towards the various positively charged pebbles and away from him.

Jack could only imagine what it looked like to the Vikings, him holding up his staff and the lightning redirecting itself around him and crashing down to the rocks below uselessly. Slowly, he lowered the gnarled piece of wood and turned his head to face Dagur, being careful to keep his face in the shadows of his hood. A pleased grin made its way across his face—though he tried to fasten it as an evil smirk, which he didn’t know if he succeeded or not—at the sight of the dumbfounded look on the Berserker’s face. Jack only wished he could see Hiccup as well; he wondered what the Dragon Rider thought of his performance.

“You, mortal, dare to attack I, Jökul Frosti? You shall pay for your transgressions,” the ex-spirit spoke as the winds howled, picking up around them. The freezing cold rain finally slowed and stopped altogether. A small white flake fluttered down from the sky right before amber eyes, followed by another and another still. Jack didn’t dare look up, afraid to break the charade, but he was just as stunned as the gasp that came from Hiccup as snow began to fall way too early in the season.

“Jökul Frosti?” Dagur opened and closed his mouth, his grasp on the Skrill’s tethers slackening as he took a step back. “You… You’re the personification of winter that the Druid told me about! The one that plays tricks and… and—”

“And bury those who have provoked me in snow,” Jack growled out as the snowflakes became much larger and fell faster. It was the beginning of a blizzard in the making. “And you have woken me from my slumber only to attack me! Prepare to feel my wrath!”

Dramatically, he pointed his staff at the deranged man who took another step back and Jack couldn’t keep the grin off his face if he tried. The Viking had stepped on top of one of the positively charged lightning pebbles the eternal teenager stashed on a few of the various rock stacks for this very reason and like anyone with even a hint of survival instincts, Dagur was faced with the fight or flight dilemma.

He chose to fight.

Jack had been counting on him to.

When Dagur tugged at the Skrill’s tethers, instead of sparking towards the dragon’s mouth to create a ball of lightning, the negative charge raced downwards to the small positively charged rock. Passing right through Dagur and electrocuting him. The lightning display lasted a few seconds before the Berserker let go of the ropes and fell to the ground, twitching.

Unfortunately, the deranged Viking didn’t stay down long and, with great effort, stood up on shaky legs. Jack stood unmoving, watching Dagur gasp for breath, waiting for the redhead's next move. It was all rather anticlimactic as Dagur stiffened, the residual charge causing his muscles to lock up, and he fell once more. This time, instead of sprawling across the ground, he fell over the side of the cliff, going down about ten feet where he landed on a small plateau. The impact knocking him out cold.

“I really don't think he's going to be leading an invasion anytime soon,” Jack happily stated, throwing off his hood and looking up at Toothless flying overhead with his rider. The snow had slowed down to just a few flakes here and there and the winds had subsided greatly. Jack could even see the moon coming out from behind some of the clouds, providing them with much-needed light. “What about you? You think Berk’s going to have to worry about the twitching mass of flesh over there?”

There was a moment of silence as Hiccup opened and closed his mouth, before shaking his head. “No, don’t think so.”

A bolt of lightning lashed out right at the brunet and it was solely due to the winds’ warning he was able to dodge in time. Although, seeing as he was on top of a rock with an extremely limited space, the only place for him to go was out into the open air. Jack didn’t have time to worry as Toothless dove down and flew under him, allowing the brunet to land safely on the dragon’s back.

“Wish I could say the same for this guy!” Hiccup called out, the Guardian hooking his arm over the Dragon Rider’s shoulder as they took off.

Glancing back, Jack caught sight of the now freed Skrill chasing after them. He would have turned to face forward but a crash of lightning from behind the Strike-class dragon had amber eyes widening. For a fraction of a second, when the natural bolt of lightning struck, a shadowy shape had partly separated from the dragon and the dark scales of the dragon became slightly brighter along with its yellow eyes. The pirate hat was a sure indication of what entity had attached itself to the dragon: a Dream Pirate.

The Skrill was possessed by a Dream Pirate.

It was no wonder the elements were going crazy; the Balance of Nature was in an uproar with a magical creature being enslaved by one of those unnatural beings. The Skrill must have been frozen by the Vilias alongside the rest of the Nightmare Galleon and when the glacier had broken off due to Jack and Toothless's efforts in destroying the Galleon, the frozen dragon drifted out to sea. If only the former Guardian had noticed, then they wouldn’t currently be facing the Skrill-possessed Dream Pirate.

This was much worse than having to deal with Dagur. Much worse. Jack gridded his teeth and turned back around in time to see several rock stacks ahead of them. Toothless’s flawlessly maneuvered through the rocks and through the valley on the other side. The possessed dragon wouldn’t be shaken though and they had a few close calls with the Skrill’s lightning.

Jack dearly wished he hadn’t used his only article of folded sunshine as a distraction on Dagur. He could have used it against the Dream Pirate then. Now that he thought of it, the folded sunshine might have been the reason the shadowy creature was having problems maintaining its control over the Skrill. Maybe, with more light, the Dream Pirate wouldn’t be able to keep its hold on the dragon, and—hopefully—the Skrill would be free.

“We need to lose him,” Hiccup yelled as they headed out over open waters and away from Outcast Island. The Guardian had to hang on even tighter as they flew up into the storm clouds and back into freezing rain, the soft white flakes of snow disappeared when the Dream Pirate was revealed. The winds screamed for his attention, but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears from the boom which accompanied the possessed dragon’s lightning.

Jack turned his head, trying to hear what the winds had to say but he couldn’t make out much. All he could understand was something about ice and cold.

“Actually, scratch that. We need him to follow us,” the Dragon Rider turned his head so Jack could hear him, banking Toothless to their right. The ex-spirit looked passed auburn hair to see a remarkably familiar iceberg floating in the distance. The winds and Hiccup’s plan hit him full force as the Night Fury flew dangerously close to the raging sea.

The Skrill let loose another bolt of lightning just as they reached the glacier, hitting the ice and dislodging a large piece right over the top of them. Toothless dove even lower, skimming the water before flying straight up between the limited space of the glacier and the dislodged chunk of ice. They safely came out the other side, only to dodge another arc of lightning.

“Down, Toothless, into that cut in the glacier,” Hiccup directed and then they were flying straight into a small fissure in the ice.

Toothless pulled his wings in to fit through the opening. They managed to clear it and were inside the glacier. Luckily, the cut opened up into a large cavern which gave Toothless the room necessary to move as the possessed dragon rocketed in on the Night Fury’s tail. The Skrill’s wings clipped the side of the opening and scattered chunks of ice in all directions, some of which pelted Jack in the back. It slowed the purple dragon down somewhat, but not much, and the Night Fury had to fight to keep them ahead of the Skrill.

“Toothless, up there! Tight turn!” Jack yelled, spotting a small narrow opening in the ceiling, pointing his staff in the direction.

The dragon spared no hesitation and took the turn. They flew out of the ice cavern and into an open ravine. Looking around, amber eyes found themselves viewing multiple sets of Night Furies along with Hiccup and himself in the reflective surfaces of the ice shards. While he was busy beholding the natural phenomena in wonder, Hiccup saw it as a tactical advantage.

With a pat to his head, the Dragon Rider urged Toothless to position himself off to the side of the opening. It took a moment, but Jack understood why a second later when he saw their reflections being projected on the ice right in front of the entrance. When the Skrill came through the opening, the first thing it saw was an image of them, and the possessed dragon never even slowed down. It flew headfirst into the wall, knocking itself out.

A triumphant roar echoed through the ravine as Toothless stood over the possessed Skrill victoriously.

“Good work, Bud!” Hiccup praised, scratching the Night Fury behind one of his ear-plates.

However, amber eyes honed in on the downed dragon, watching as the purple scales darkened and when the Skrill’s eyes snapped open, he wasn't surprised to see the haunting glow. The dragon’s natural, yellow-colored irises were replaced by a mass of gleaming white that spread. Slowly consuming the dragon’s pupils and moving on to its sclera. Before the Guardian knew it, he was staring into the eyes of a Dream Pirate.

Hiccup!” Jack yelled the instant he realized the Dream Pirate had gained complete control of the Skrill. The alarm in his voice must have told the Dragon Rider all he needed to know, because the next moment Toothless was in the air, flying them straight up.

As they ascended out of the ravine, the Guardian let go of his staff with one hand and plunged it into his back pouch, desperately searching for any more iron pebbles. He could hear both Strike-class dragons preparing to attack, the whir of the Night Fury’s plasma mixing in with the crackling of lightning. It was the lightning which won out, being just a bit faster than Toothless. The Dream Pirate-Skrill wasn’t faster than Jack though, his fingers wrapping around a few cold pieces of metal and as the lightning arced up to meet them, the Druid hurled the pebbles with all his might at the possessed dragon.

Ligetræsc.”

The lightning attack was once more drawn towards the pieces of iron, diverting the strike away from them and towards either side of the ravine’s icy walls. The burst of light resulting from the lightning crashing into the walls overwhelmed both Hiccup and Jack, but it wasn’t just from the Skrill’s attack. The crystal on the brunet’s staff blazed to life and it was through squinted eyes, that the Guardian watched as the Dream Pirate was forcefully separated from the purple dragon where it was eaten away by the light.

Toothless’s plasma blast hit the dragon squarely in its chest, knocking the now freed Skrill back down into the ravine. The ice—weakened from the lightning—crumpled in and on top of the dragon, a cloud of debris obscuring the Skrill. However, the Night Fury and his rider were not sticking around much to Jack’s disappointment. He wanted to see if the purple dragon would act differently now it was no longer possessed; if it was as peaceful as Toothless was without the Dream Pirate’s control.

The Druid didn’t learn the answers as the Night Fury flew skywards, hovering over the iceberg with plasma forming in his mouth. Before he could fire the blast, fire exploded near Toothless’s wingtip. The resulting shockwave caused the black dragon to lose his concentration and with it, his plasma charge.

“Hey, why do you get to have all the fun?” Tuffnut called out from on top of Belch’s head.

“Yeah, this job was made for us,” Ruffnut agreed, directing Barf to dive down and fill the ravine with as much gas as the Hideous Zippleback’s right head could produce. Her brother then yanked on Belch’s horns and the dragon let out a spark, igniting the gas. The twins managed to time the spark just right so there was a small stint that allowed the dragons to fly away before the gas could fully detonate without any of them being caught up in the blast.

The result had ice and water falling into the ravine, filling it completely. Combined with the raging winds and the freezing rain pelting down on his skin, Jack knew the area would be frozen solid and the Skrill with it. The ex-spirit’s only consolation was the dragon was not dead but frozen in hibernation once more. Hopefully, when the Skrill would wake the next time, it would not be under the same circumstances and it would be free.

“Guys, let's go home,” Hiccup let out a heavy sigh when neither of the dragons dared to land on the ice for a short respite.

“Thought you'd never ask,” Ruffnut let out her own sigh of relief as the two dragons immediately headed towards Berk. The heavy atmosphere lingered over the small group which none of them dared to break until well after the glacier was out of sight and even then, the silence clung to them.

Tuffnut, in an attempt to lighten the mood, spoke the first thing to come to mind. “I am gonna miss some of those Outcast guys. They could really carry a tune.”

“I know, right?” his sister agreed as she shot a strained but cheery smile in his direction. The smile soon turned into a grin as twin blue eyes gleamed with mischief and suddenly, they both burst out in song, dragging a tired laugh from Jack. “Hooligan Tribe, won't you come out tonight come out tonight, come out tonight…

“Well, I won't miss Dagur, that's for sure,” Hiccup grumbled under his breath and the brunet mumbled an agreement, his head resting against the Dragon Rider’s back as sleep tried to claim him yet Jack fought it for all his worth.

Notes:

So, this was actually Chapter 5 of my original outline…which as you can tell, I did not stick to. Hope new and old readers appreciate the work that's gone in this and I'll see you next week!

I now have fanart by the amazing: xerzi go explore the wonderful art.

Chapter 31: Councils Meet

Notes:

Jack Frost created the legend of Jökul Frosti. He created his own legend. XP

Chapter Text

Astrid circled around Berk for a final lap, or so she told herself as this was her fifth final lap. Not that Stormfly was complaining, on the contrary, the Deadly Nadder was purring with delight underneath her. It had been too long since the last time they had been out flying for fun. What with everything going on, the Dragon Riders hadn’t had any time for themselves in between dealing with the Screaming Death, disappearing islands, forest fires, and their regular chores on top of that. Not to mention the whole debacle with Berserkers, Outcasts, and the Skrill that had barely been resolved last night.

For the first time in weeks, Astrid was able to sleep the whole night through without troubling thoughts to keep her up. Having woken up refreshed and in good spirits, the shieldmaiden effortlessly completed her chores in record time. That left her with the whole day to do as she pleased and what she pleased to do was to take Stormfly out flying without having to patrol the waters for Outcast boats or looking for any dangerous dragons.

They could just fly for the sake of flying.

Stormfly gave a trill as they lapped the island again and continued on. This time though, instead of flying high in the clouds, Astrid had the Deadly Nadder descend to skim the waves below, following the coastline and cliffs around Berk. The thrill of weaving around the landmass and twisting through the sea stacks was a perfect way to wind down before heading back to the village.

As they passed some cliffs, Stormfly’s head perked up and she veered off closer to the rocks. “What is it, girl? Something wrong?”

The Deadly Nadder shook her head and chirped twice before reducing her speed as the dragon headed straight for the cliffs. Blue eyes swept over her surroundings to locate what her dragon already had discovered. It took her a few sweeps of the cliffs before Astrid caught sight of them on a low-hanging cliff.

Hiccup, with his green shirt and brown fur vest, blended in with the trees further behind him on a cursory search. Toothless blended in too since he was curled around the chief’s son and appeared to be taking a nap. Yet, it was the Night Fury’s tail flickering every now and again—resulting in brief flashes of red—which caught the shieldmaiden’s attention and gave away their location. If Toothless’s tail had been motionless, she wouldn’t have noticed either of them.

What got her though, was the coiled form of Hookfang lying down behind the two with Snotlout sitting to the side cleaning the Monstrous Nightmare’s scales with a brush. Barf and Belch were partly hidden by the forest, their long necks reaching upwards as they begged for treats from Tuffnut and Ruffnut who were hanging upside down in the trees. Fishlegs was there as well, standing off to the side with Meatlug, looking unsure of himself as the Gronckle ate the rocks at her rider’s feet.

Narrowing her eyes, the shieldmaiden allowed Stormfly free rein to fly in closer. The Deadly Nadder was forced to circle the area once to find a suitable space to land near the edge of the cliff. Astrid saw Hiccup glance over at them briefly, yet he made no move to greet them. Green eyes simply drifted back to stare off into the vast open ocean where the waters met the sky. Dismounting, she turned and scanned the Academy members with a critical eye.

“Did I forget a training exercise?” Astrid asked, patting the Deadly Nadder on her nose horn absentmindedly. Stormfly purred in content, sitting down and twitching her head in an attempt to get her rider to scratch a particular spot under her chin.

“Not that I’m aware of. Me and Meatlug were flying to the Northern Mountains for some granite. She really likes the rocks up there, they’re her favorite,” Fishlegs began to trail off, but a stern look from the shieldmaiden had him rubbing his hands together and returning to the topic at hand. “Anyways, as we were flying by, I saw the twins flying low to the water before landing up here. The others were already here and…uh…no one has told me what’s going on.”

Rolling her eyes, she glanced at Hiccup. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Giving Stormfly one final pat, Astrid strolled over to the auburn-haired Dragon Rider and took a seat not from the Night Fury duo. Her legs hung over the side and she swung them back and forth as she leaned back, arms braced behind her. Blue eyes caught Toothless opening one green eye, giving her a once-over before closing it and returning to his nap. Together they sat watching the ocean, the only sounds coming from the water below crashing against the rocks and winds rustling through the trees. Then again, that could have been the twins jumping from tree branch to tree branch as their dragon's heads chased them.

Her silence was rewarded. “Did you know this is where Jackson came after I first met him?”

Astrid glanced over, blonde brows furrowing together but she didn’t say a word, waiting for him to continue.

“It was before he even came to the village, me and Toothless had gone to the cove and Jackson was already there fishing,” Hiccup answered the unasked question. “Toothless ate all his fish and Jackson yelled at me for letting him—like I could have stopped him!—before storming away. After some of the accusations of starvation he threw my way, I followed him here to these cliffs to make sure he was safe.

“He didn’t even know who I was and everyone knows Stoick the Vast’s fishbone of a son,” Hiccup let out a forced self-deprecating laugh which earned him a slap in the leg from Toothless’s tail. Auburn hair shook back and forth before green eyes glanced up at the sky. “I should have realized it from his accent he wasn’t from around here.”

“Yeah, you should have. I’ve never heard anyone speak the way he does. It’s kinda cute,” the shieldmaiden grinned, hiding it behind the back of her hand. She did wonder where her leader was going with this and what had Hiccup—of all people—in such a dark mood.

“Astrid, what do we actually know about Jackson? Not just the rumors, but what do we actually know?” Hiccup asked, finally turning from the ocean and looking over in her direction.

Astrid had to stop and truly think to answer his question. “Well, Uncle Finn said he found Jackson being attacked by a pride of Changewings last winter and Grump saved him. Uncle then nursed him back to health.”

“He’s a Druid,” Snotlout grunted as he worked to pry the brush he was using out of the Monstrous Nightmare’s mouth. Hookfang let go a moment later sending his rider tumbling to the ground. The teenager proceeded to glare at the pleased Stoker-class dragon.

“And a low-level practitioner of magic! Though he can’t do much magic,” Tuffnut shouted from the treetops.

“But he has a lot of magical knowledge,” Ruffnut continued, sitting on the opposing branch to the one her brother was currently hanging upside-down from, “and uses what he knows to tell great stories.”

“His family was killed by the magic-hating king in his homelands,” Fishlegs volunteered, inching his way to stand behind the shieldmaiden and away from the Monstrous Nightmare duo as Hookfang was playing keep away with  Snotlout jumping up trying to grab hold of the brush just out of his reach.

“That’s just it,” the chief’s son shook his head. “His parents might have been killed by the king, but his sister wasn’t. She drowned in a lake and he almost did too, if Máni hadn’t saved him.”

“What?” the shieldmaiden’s hands almost slipped out from under her, head snapping to the side to stare at Hiccup with wide unblinking blue eyes. She wanted to say more but for the first time in her life, Astrid was shocked beyond words.

She wasn’t the only one affected by the revelation. Tuffnut fell out of the tree, his only saving grace was Belch grabbing hold of his foot before he could land on his head. Ruffnut would have followed her brother down, but Barf was quicker than his other head and kept her situated in the tree. Snotlout, on the other hand, had his legs give out from under him and the brunet Viking fell on his ass, yet he made not a sound. The Monstrous Nightmare nudged him a few times, dropping the brush in his lap, and gave out a mournful yowl which had the burly Viking’s hand absently patting Hookfang on the snout.

“But…but…but Máni takes children,” Fishlegs stuttered, bracing himself against Meatlug to keep his trembling legs under him. “That can’t be. Jackson is still here, why would Máni save him if not to take him?”

Hiccup’s head dropped, eyes downcast, as he gave a defeated shrug. “I don’t know and I don’t think Jackson does either. All he knows is that he’s in his debt and one day Máni will collect.”

“How do you know this?” Astrid asked, hoping her voice wasn’t trembling as much as her arms were.

“He told me,” the teenager sighed running a hand through auburn hair, disheveling the locks more than they already were. “When he fell into the ocean, he relived it all again.”

“That’s why he went into shock,” Snotlout reasoned, coming to sit on his cousin's other side. Hiccup glanced over at him and nodded his head once as an uneasy silence descended on the group, all buried within their own minds, deep in thought.

“He could be lying,” the Gronckle rider offered after a bit of time passed. It was the wrong thing to say as all of the other Academy members’ heads whipped towards him. Each giving Fishlegs a look that had the poor teen freezing on the spot. “What? I’m just saying, he could be lying; who of us has actually met a god or goddess for that matter?”

“We’ve met Hamadryads,” Barf’s rider deadpanned.

“And Wyldfae,” Belch’s rider tacked on.

“All because of Jackson,” Snotlout finished, each of them defending the Druid.

“I’ve seen it.” Hiccup stated as if it was a simple fact but in reality, it had all the Dragon Riders’ attention secured solely on him once more. Waiting with bated breath for him to continue.

When he didn’t carry on his own accord, Astrid gently probed him to continue. “What do you mean, seen it?”

“I told you how we tricked Dagur to free the Skrill,” Hiccup sighed, looking back up at the sky at the lone cloud drifting across the bright blue background. “What I didn’t tell you was Jackson pretended to be Jökul Frosti to lure him into our trap. He…it…the moon broke through the clouds and it was no longer raining. It was snowing.

“The moonlight was only illuminating Jackson and it was snowing. The whole thing was so surreal and I don’t know how to explain it. I think…I think it was Máni’s doing though. Showing that he was still watching and waiting to collect the debt Jackson owes him.”

Another silence descended over the Dragon Riders. Astrid glanced at the others yet she was unable to catch any of their eyes. The twins were busy staring at each other with matching despondent looks on their faces, Tuffnut tilting his head to the side, causing his sister to shake her head negatively. Snotlout was busy picking Monstrous Nightmare scales out of his brush, blue eyes glazed over to the point the shieldmaiden knew he wasn’t seeing what he was doing and was working automatically without conscious thought.

With Fishlegs busy wringing his hands together, Astrid knew it was up to her yet again. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“What can we do about it?” Hiccup countered, head hanging low.

“We could get him a wolf,” Ruffnut suggested causing everyone to look up at her in the tree. Seeing the surprised looks from everyone present but her brother, the blonde Viking rolled her eyes and snorted. “What? Everyone knows Máni is chased by the wolf Hati and his sister is chased by the wolf Sköll. It would stand to reason if we get Jackson a wolf then Máni might be too scared to come and collect on the debt.”

“Great idea,” the Monstrous Nightmare snidely remarked, turning his body around—almost hitting Toothless’s tail with the brush in his hand—and glared at the Viking up in the tree. “Just one question, where are we going to get a wolf? That won’t eat us?!

Fishlegs kept any further quarrels from breaking out between the twins and Snotlout by voicing his own idea. “We could show Máni that Jackson belongs here and not on the moon.” When everyone turned to look in his direction with questioning looks, the heavy-set Viking looked down, wringing his hands together as he blurted out his reasoning. “It’s only speculation, but some believe Máni took Hjúki and Bil from Viðfinnr because he was abusive and they had nowhere else to go.”

“Which is similar to Jackson's situation,” Tuffnut spoke up as his sister and the brunet Viking persisted with glaring at one another.

The Gronckle rider shook his head. “Not really, Máni only took Hjúki and Bil to the moon because that was where they were safe and despite the king of Jackson's homeland trying to kill his people, he still had a safe, loving family—"

A snort from Snotlout cut Fishlegs off. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“What do you mean?” Astrid asked, starting to realize she didn’t know much about the Druid at all.

“He’s always talking about his mother and sister but rarely does he say anything about his father if he can help it. Not to mention he is just out of reach of any adult males and is easily startled when someone touches him without him being aware,” the broad-shouldered Viking ticked off on his fingers and Astrid couldn’t keep herself from blinking rapidly at the amount of knowledge Snotlout possessed through observations of all things. The startled look Hiccup shot his cousin let her know he hadn’t known that about Jackson either.

“Are…are you saying Jackson’s father ab—”

“I’m not saying anything Fishface,” Snotlout snapped, looking a little guilty he might have revealed something the Druid didn’t want to be known. “Just don’t go asking him questions about his father. He doesn’t respond well.”

“Um…okay?” Fishlegs rubbed his arm uncertainly. “Well… um… as I was saying… uh, we could show Máni that Jackson is safe and wanted here?”

“That just might work,” Astrid nodded her head before blue eyes narrowed as she rubbed her chin. “Even if Máni comes to collect his debt, he wouldn’t take Jackson away from us if we could show that he is nothing like Hjúki and Bil.”

“But how?” the twins asked at the same time, genuinely curious about how they could help the Druid who was becoming a part of their little group.

“By being his friend,” Hiccup answered for them all.


“Hey Jackson,” Hiccup greeted the brunet as he entered the forge.

“Hiya Hiccup, how was your day?” Jack asked between a yawn, not bothering to set down the small pebble he was working on.

After the Lightning Rocks—as he started to refer to them as—had not only proven themselves but were essential the night before, the Druid immediately set about making more. He wanted to embed the iron with a stronger positive charge to cut down the risk of the negatively charged lightning being drawn away from the pieces of iron. Inspiration hit him halfway through creating the second Lightning Rock and he ended up attempting to create charges in different materials other than iron. He digressed further by seeing if there might be a way for the Lightning Rocks to hold more than one charge. So far, he hadn’t had any success with either concept.

“Interesting,” the Dragon Rider replied as he walked over and stood near the Druid’s workbench looking at the assorted items scattered around Jack.

“Interesting as in exciting and holding your attention or interesting as in ‘Oh Gods, oh Gods, we’re all going to die’?” the immortal teenager inquired as another pebble of iron became ash in his hands.

Frowning, Jack brushed his hands off and turned his full attention to the auburn-haired teenager who was giving him a weird look. “Where do you come up with these things?”

“Here and there,” the brunet replied with a shrug. He couldn’t very well tell him he had watched a movie with Jamie about space cowboys hundreds of years in the future, after all, the chief’s son would just think him crazy. Or ask him what a movie was, there was a seventy-thirty chance of either happening. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“A little bit of both,” Hiccup relented with an eye roll.

“Tell me about it, I need to live vicariously!” Jack all but pounced on him, laughing joyously as the Viking staggered under their combined weight and the two crashed down on the floor. The Guardian of Fun’s laughs grew louder and Hiccup found himself joining in on the contagious laughter. It took them a moment before Jack rolled off the Dragon Rider and sat up, both still chuckling slightly.

“What has gotten into you?” Hiccup asked once their laughter was under control.

“I might of… kind of… am a little sleep deprived,” the ex-spirit answered honestly between chuckles, holding up his hand and pinching his thumb and forefinger together but not quite touching to show his level of sleep deprivation. Finally, when he was no longer suffering from his fit of laughter, Jack sat up and shuffled over to lean against his workbench.

Hiccup gave him a look he’d seen on Sandy’s face a few times when the Dragon Rider sat up. It was the one the Guardian of Dream used when he was assessing the brunet’s condition. Though, usually Sandy was better at hiding the frown which was sure to come after such assessments of Jack than Hiccup was.

“Jackson, when was the last time you slept?”

The immortal teenager had to stop and really think about the answer which—even to him—was not a good sign. He knew he’d tried to sleep a few times, but the moment he closed his eyes, he was back underwater. The freezing cold assaulting him from all sides, penetrating his skin, and seeping into his bones. The numbing darkness of oblivion pulling him down into the murky depths even as he pounded at the icy surface above, desperate to break free. His lungs burning for oxygen. His limbs growing heavier with every failed attempt, succumbing to the cold.  Jackson Overland couldn’t hold his breath any longer and Jack would abruptly awaken, gasping for breath.

In the end, the ex-spirit decided sleep wasn’t worth the fear and terror of drowning all over again every time he closed his eyes.

“Uh, the day before we found the Skrill in the block of ice,” he finally recalled with some certainty, the days running together.

“That was five days ago. Why would you do that to yourself?” Hiccup sounded pained as he spoke but after a cursory search, amber eyes didn’t find any injuries.

Jack could not bring himself to meet those vivid green eyes a second longer and looked away, shrugging his shoulders halfheartedly. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

The frown on Hiccup’s face deepened before he stood up and offered his hand to Jack. “Come on.”

Amber eyes looked from the hand and followed it up to Hiccup’s face. “Where are we going?”

“To get you something to eat,” the Dragon Rider answered, leaning down to grab Jack around his upper arm, pulling him up with more strength than his deceptively small frame should have possessed. “I can’t make you sleep, but I can make sure you eat.”

“Please say we aren’t going to the Great Hall, the food there sucks. I would rather make my own,” Jack complained as he grabbed his staff, resting up against a support beam, when they passed by on their way out the door.

He immediately stopped when he spotted Toothless sitting out in front of the stall with a few fish dangling by their tails from his mouth. Next to the dragon stood Astrid with a bucket containing what looked to be pieces of raw chicken. On the Night Fury’s other side, Snotlout was busy trying to keep Hookfang away from a large basket filled with even more fish. The twins’ arms were full of different leafy greens—some of which Jack could tell were inedible—with dirt still clinging to the roots. As for Fishlegs, he was carrying a sack over his shoulders with vegetables sticking out.

Whirling around, he pointed accusingly at the sheepish-looking Dragon Rider. “You had this planned!”

We~ll,” Hiccup drew out, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face, “you do cook better than the rest of us.”

“And we don’t like our brother Norbert’s cooking either,” Tuffnut called out. “But he cooks better than Ma.”

“Yeah, that’s why Da got him a job cooking in the Great Hall,” Ruffnut agreed.

“Remind me to never eat over at your house if Norbert’s cooking is considered the best the Thorstons’ have to offer,” Fishlegs commented and the others nodded in absolute agreement.

Astrid took a step forward, holding out the bucket of chicken. “Cook for us, please?”

Jack looked them over, noticing all the hopeful looks, and rolled his eyes before taking the bucket from the shieldmaiden. “Fine, but where am I supposed to be doing this cooking?”

“The chief’s hut!” the twins shouted and high-fived each other. From the look on Hiccup’s face, that hadn’t been a part of his little scheme. That made it the perfect place for him to cook.

“Sounds good to me,” Jack agreed shooting a grin of his own towards the two troublemakers, already heading in the general direction of the Haddocks' hut.

“But my father—,” Hiccup started, only for his cousin to cut him off.

“Is going over strategies with the council at my house,” Snotlout informed everyone, picking up the basket of fish and following the Druid. Hookfang took to the sky and circled his slower-moving rider.

“So, it’s decided then,” Astrid agreed, a step behind Snotlout while her Deadly Nadder chose to walk beside her instead of flying next to the Monstrous Nightmare.

“This is going to be so awesome,” Ruffnut cheered, dropping a few of the plants she was holding—completely oblivious to it—as she ran to catch up with the brunet.

“Yeah, just wait till Ma hears we had supper at the chief’s hut,” Tuffnut agreed, hitching a ride on Barf and Belch’s back to chase after his sister.

“Oh, this is so exciting, isn’t it Meatlug?” Fishlegs asked the Gronckle hovering behind him.

Hiccup knew when he was defeated and followed Toothless home.


Jack put the Dragon Riders to work. He was not about to be the only one cooking. Pointing to an empty pot, he sent Snotlout to retrieve fresh water while Astrid took the initiative to clean the edible herbs the twins picked. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were tasked with cutting up vegetables since there was no way they could mess that up even if they tried and Fishlegs was in charge of watching the twins just in case.

Hiccup had the unpleasant job of cleaning all the fish and Toothless tried to save him the trouble of disposing of the fish waste by eating it. He was foiled and shooed away by his rider. When Hiccup was finished with the fish, he grabbed some charcoal and unused paper to scratch out a quick note—which Sharpshot was more than happy to deliver for him—before lending Astrid a hand in removing the stems from the cleaned herbs.

Soon the chief’s hut was filled to the brim with Academy members, large dragons—most of them perched on the roof due to the lack of space—a familiar flock of Terrible Terrors, Wyldfae, and one very busy Druid chef. Thankfully, there was more than enough food to feed an army and after Astrid and Fishlegs commandeered extra cooking pots from their huts, they had a literal feast. There was rosemary chicken and seasoned cod, cooked vegetables, and fresh fruit, and with a little help from some Dewdrop Faeries, he had fresh bread ready in minutes instead of hours.

“It looks so good,” Astrid sniffed the air as Jack put the last bowl on the table.

“It smells even better,” Fishlegs salivated, eyeing the table filled as a bit of drool dribbled down the corner of his mouth before being wiped it away.

“I can’t wait to eat,” Tuffnut cried out, all but launching himself at the table. Before he could even touch a single dish, Jack’s staff came out of nowhere and hit him on his head.

“Not happening,” the Guardian put a halt to them moving towards the table causing the Dragon Riders to look at him. “First, we feed the dragons their dinner. Then we eat our own.”

“But…but…but…,” Ruffnut almost cried. Looking back at the table filled to the brim with food, tears welled up in her eyes.

“Your fearless leader has taken the initiative to put aside the unused fish waste to feed the dragons. Not to mention, he had Mulch and Bucket bring up a few loads of fish—and a load of granite rocks for Meatlug—for them. There’s a basket for each dragon just outside and one for the Terrible Terrors to share,” the brunet waved towards the door, earning him a stunned look from Hiccup. Apparently, the chief’s son hadn’t known Jack was paying extra close attention to him since conning him into this mess.

Snotlout grabbed his cousin’s shoulder and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I never thought I would say this, but Hiccup, you are the best.”

With that, the broad-shouldered Viking was out the door screaming for Hookfang to get down off the roof so he could feed the ungrateful reptile thus making it possible for him to eat. It was no surprise he came running back in with his ass on fire. Fawn, thankfully, put it out with a cup of water. Other than that, there were no issues with feeding the dragons and they were heading back inside for their own meal within a few minutes. Though, Hiccup was stopped outside the door by the two fishermen.

“Uh, Hiccup, me and Bucket, we were wonderin’ since we hauled all those fish and rocks up here. Maybe, you could spare us some of that wonderful-smelling food?” Mulch asked, wringing his hands together. The auburn-haired teenager looked between the two and found he could not say no to the pitiful look on Bucket’s face.

“Come on in,” the teenager invited, holding the door open for the two older Vikings. Astrid and Fishlegs were already handing out plates and silverware to the others and Hiccup retrieved a few extra settings for Mulch and Bucket who were still standing in the doorway.

“Mulch, look, there are the Wyldfae Jackson was telling us so much about,” Bucket said, waving at Silvermist who was shyly waving back. “Hi little Wyldfae.”

“You can see them too?” the shorter Viking asked, eyes flickering from one ball of colored light to the next.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to them. They’re really friendly and helpful if you’re willing to trade,” Hiccup reassured him, handing the stunned Mulch a plate before handing the unfazed bucket-wearing Viking his plate after he finished using his pinky to shake hands with Silvermist. “They must like you; else they would've hidden away before you could see them.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I mean the chief’s son wouldn’t steer me wrong now,” Mulch finally snapped out of his stupor and stepped out of the doorway and into the hut, heading for the divine-smelling food. The auburn-haired Dragon Rider was right behind him, filling his own plate.

Hiccup was just about to dig in when the hut’s door was thrown open and everyone looked to see the chief standing in the doorway with Spitelout, Gobber, and Finn behind him.

“What is going on here?” the chief asked, eyeing the masses of people and creatures gathered in his home.

“Uh…,” Hiccup stuttered not knowing what to say. This was the exact reason he hadn’t wanted them to use his house for their not-so-little get-together.

“It’s our first ever Dragon Training Academy Feast to celebrate our accomplishments with the dragons,” Astrid stepped in. “We thought you would be in the council meeting all night and didn’t want to disturb any of you with an invitation. But we would be happy if you joined us, chief.”

“Well,” Stoick said, clearly taken back and not sure if he should be reprimanding them or accepting their invitation.

“The food's really good too!” Tuffnut shouted out from the back, chewing on a chicken leg in pure bliss.

“Oh, all right,” the chief relented and allowed the Vikings behind him to stumble in.

“Just don’t mind the Wyldfae,” Ruffnut waved her chicken leg at the various balls of light happily feasting upon their tiny leaf-plates of food in various locations around the hut. The comment was more or less directed towards Snotlout’s father since he and Gobber hadn’t been introduced to the fae before and the blacksmith didn’t seem to be having a problem with them having already started regaling Periwinkle with a few of his tall tales. Spitelout, on the other hand, was stone still, not daring to move when Fawn darted around his head to avoid the man’s helmet and flew over to sit on his son’s shoulder.

Considering the circumstances though, the Vikings had a fun time. There was good company, fun anecdotes being told that had them all laughing, and to top it off, the best food in all of Berk was being served. For once, it was a calm and peaceful evening for the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, something they hadn’t had in a long time.

“This is excellent. Who cooked?” Gobber asked, finishing off the last piece of bread.

“We all help, but Jackson was the one who really did all the cooking,” Hiccup answered when Jackson didn’t speak up.

“Well, where is the boy?” Stoick asked, looking around the heads sitting at the table and yet, there wasn’t a head of messy brown hair currently present.

Vivid green eyes also looked around the table, unable to locate Jackson either. A nudge from behind him had Hiccup glancing over at Toothless. When he had his rider’s attention, the dragon crept over to the corner where the Druid sat propped up against the wall. Sharpshot nestled in his arms and the other Terrible Terrors along with a few Wyldfae circled around him, fast asleep.

Chapter 32: A Tale to Free Frustrations

Notes:

Please remember, this is not a romance story with adventure, but an adventure story with romance. Don't get me wrong, I love the fluff/smut/PWP, but there are a lot of those out there for HiJacks (still wish for more). However, there are not that many long stories which build up the relationship through prolonged interaction while overcoming their different backgrounds (and yeah, most of it is on Jack's side right now) instead of love at first sight kind of deal. That is what this story is for me.

Telidina: Jack is full of ANGST which gets worse this chapter (sorry) but that's because he spent 300 years alone and this is the first-time people care enough to help him and he doesn't understand why they care.

Titania_queen_of_fairys: I am giddy that you picked up on the Gods/Immortals being fickle because their blessings are also curses—really Manny? 300 years of loneliness for immortality—and, though it hasn't come up yet, the Old Religion's balance and Jack's mortal life/immortality does play a factor. I adore that this story has made you think, even creating theories, about what's going to happen. Thank you for your long review, it was fun to read.

Chapter Text

Finn was out in the field adjoined to the hut the chief had kindly provided him. It had needed several substantial repairs and improvements before the place was even remotely livable, but that wasn’t surprising. The hut did previously belong to Mildew the Traitor and as much as he appreciated Gobber’s generous hospitality in allowing him to stay with him and Jackson while the place was renovated, he was glad to finally have a place he could call his own again. Now, after living in the newly repaired hut for a little over a week, Finn was pondering what to do with the rotting cabbage left in the field.

Apparently, Mildew hadn’t harvested the cabbage before defecting to the Outcast Tribe and none of the villagers had seen fit to attend to the crops either, leaving him to deal with the mess. Before relinquishing the rights of the hut and the surrounding lands over to Finn, the chief mandated the field had to either be cleared for use for the next season or he needed to convert the land into a pasture. Finn was a hunter, not a farmer; he knew nothing about growing plants or raising yaks, but he did understand why the condition was put in place. A piece of land this large couldn’t go to waste and yet Finn couldn’t figure out what he was going to do with the field either.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” Jackson’s familiar silvery tones called out as Finn sniffed the head of cabbage he picked.

Looking up, the Viking saw the young boy making his way up the incline with a rowan bowl in one hand and his staff in the other. Sneaky—the little Terrible Terror his cute niece kept sending his way—was ever so conveniently perched on top of the staff’s crook.

“Laddie, what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today?” Finn smiled, throwing the cabbage up into the air. The small dragon launched himself off of Jackson’s staff and a moment later, the flaming husk of the rotten vegetable fell to the ground. Sneaky reappeared in brown locks of hair, singing happily at his accomplishment.

The Druid held up the bowl, filled to the brim with food. “I brought you some food, just leftovers from the other night and a new bowl to make offerings to the Wyldfae.”

“That’s very kind of you,” the hunter said, leading them inside. He was quite proud of how the hut came out after all the hard work that went into it, not to mention having to add on another room since Mildew hadn’t seen the need for storage space that the Hofferson definitely needed for his hunting and skinning equipment.

Jackson set the bowl down on the table and started to go through the cooking area searching for the plates. He used his staff to pull back the curtains on the shelves Finn installed with how high up they were, but the boy finally found the items he was searching for at a height he could reach. Setting the table for two plus a bowl for Sneaky, the Druid divided up the contents of the rowan bowl between the three dishes while Finn filled two mugs—one with mead, another with water—in a routine the two created during the time they spent together over Devastating Winter.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re here, Laddie?” Finn asked after a few bites of the boy’s delicious food. Food he had dearly began to miss now they were no longer living together and he had been subjected to the crime against food—the most notable offender being the gruel—served in the Great Hall. Blue eyes following the movement of Jackson’s fork as he pushed the food around on his plate, not taking a single bite.

Jackson sighed and set the fork down to rest his head on his hand. “Hiccup got hurt on our last search for the Screaming Death and everyone is worried about me.”

“And why were they worried about you?” the Viking asked in between bites of food that was washed down with a gulp of mead.

Amber eyes lowered, gazing at his plate while snow-white teeth chewed nervously at his bottom lip. “We found a stranded Scauldron on Changewing Island and took it upon ourselves to rescue her. There were a few problems, what with the dragon not trusting us and attacking when we tried to remove the boulders pinning her wing down. Funny enough, Ruffnut's scent won over the Scauldron because she uses fish oil in her hair and that got the dragon to trust her.

“We were able to remove the rocks easily enough after that. Ruffnut kept her calm and distracted but once the rocks were cleared, Fishlegs realized her wing was broken. Hiccup came up with the idea to make a splint and we were nearly finished when a pride of Changewings found us. Scauldy—”

“Scauldy?” Finn cut in, having kept silent in spite of the growing urge to question the boy on why on Midgard he would go anywhere near Changewing Island after what happened the last time he came across a pride of Changewings. He kept himself in check, but only because Jackson’s voice never wavered while talking about the Mystery-class dragons nor did he show any signs of distress, the Viking was able to keep his tongue in check right up until the dragon’s name was mentioned.

“Ruffnut named her. Her first choice was ‘Please Don’t Kill Me’ and Tuffnut wanted to name her ‘Scalding Painful Death: The Dragon,’” the Druid explained with a slight grin and Finn briefly wondered if the young boy realized Sneaky had finished off his own food and had started on Jackson’s.

“Scauldy is a much better choice,” the hunter motioned for the brunet to continue. It also had the added bonus of scaring the Terrible Terror away from the brunet’s plate.

Jackson nodded his head in agreement and picked up where he had left off. “Anyways, the splint’s bindings broke in our haste to finish before the Changewings could reach us. Ruffnut was going to cut her hair and use it as the extra length we needed to tie off the bindings—which was really noble of her—but I already tore up one of my arm warmers into strips to use instead. Once the fix was in place, I assisted the twins in coaxing Scauldy back to the water when the Changewings attacked.

“One of the dragons targeted me first since I was the closest,” the brunet frowned and reached for his mug. He picked it up but didn’t bring it to his lips. Instead, amber eyes glared at the water contained within the wooden vessel, a vexing expression splashed across his face. “I could have gotten out of the way in time. I was already moving but Hiccup intercepted the dragon’s acid with his shield. But, since he was trying to shield both of us, the shield didn’t cover his arm fully and he was burned.”

There was a pause as the boy brought the mug to his lips and held it there.

“I don’t get it, Hiccup was the one hurt, but everyone is babying me. I don’t need to be babied,” Jackson softly voiced his frustrations, setting the mug back down a little harder than necessary. Finn knew from personal experience the brunet wasn’t mad or even angry at any of the young Vikings or the chief’s son in particular.

Jackson was upset with himself.

Hiccup was hurt protecting him and he was feeling guilty. Finn gave the Druid some time to mull over his own thoughts and feelings while he finished eating the heavenly meal provided. Once he was finished, the blond pushed the boy’s plate of food back in front of him and gave him a pointed look when amber eyes glanced up.

Despite Jackson having put on some much-needed weight since his arrival in Berk, it was not nearly enough for Finn to be the least bit satisfied. The brunet was still skin and bones with the barest of hints of muscle under that cloak of his which was a recent development. Still, maybe he should have a talk with Gobber or even Hiccup—since the chief’s son seemed to be taking an interest in Jackson’s wellbeing from the sound of things—about getting the Druid to eat more.

When the brunet had eaten at least half of his meal—an improvement from winter—Finn asked him a simple question. “Laddie, have you ever thought they aren’t babying you but are worried because they care?”

From the way Jackson froze up and his fork clattered against the table, the Viking got the impression the thought never crossed his mind. It also had Finn wondering just how long the Druid had been alone before Grump rescued him from the pride of Changewings to have that kind of mindset. Not to mention it put some credibility to his little Lass’s speculations that the brunet’s father wasn’t worthy to be blessed with a son like Jackson.

“Look, Laddie, of all of the Dragon Riders, you’re the only one unarmed and the least protected.”

But—!” Jackson started, standing up abruptly.

“Let me finish,” Finn didn’t shout, but his voice did have the brunet sitting back down. “As I was saying, you’re the least protected of the Dragon Riders. My darling niece carries around the traditional Hofferson axe and wears her armor proudly. Though, I would be happier if she wore more armor than those shoulder pads and metal studded skirt of hers. Really, kids these days.”

Blue eyes caught the minuscule nod the Druid gave in agreement, though the quirk of his lips had Finn grinning. Obviously, the lad was remembering how his little niece silenced quite a few of the Vikings by reaching for that axe of hers only the other day. The hunter had been so proud of Astrid in that moment when she’d finally been able to master that trick. His older brother had tried to teach him the intimidation tactic as well but he hadn’t perfected it to the point the little Lass had.   Then again, he hadn’t needed to when he'd been ‘Fearless Finn Hofferson’.

Realizing he was getting lost in his own head, Finn shook the depressing thoughts out of his mind and focused on Jackson. “I know it might not look like it, but Fishlegs—like all those from the Ingerman line—wears armor underneath his fur tunic. Something Gobber reminded me of when he kept complaining about having to make a new set every two seasons because the lad keeps growing. In addition to the armor, he has that Gronckle Iron Sword of his too.

“Snotlout is the son of Spitelout, so he definitely keeps a number of sharp, pointy objects on him at any one time and his vest is reinforced with a chainmail lining. As for the Thorston twins, they lug around a variety of weaponry depending on their mood, and despite what they let people think, both are proficient in using them in battle. Hiccup—as you well know—carries his shield for protection; moreover, he is the chief’s son and Gobber’s apprentice. He knows the ins and outs of weaponry better than most of the older generation after spending years crafting them and his father has been teaching him tactics since, well, since he was born.

“Lastly, there’s you. Not a stitch of armor and your only weapon is a wooden staff that is nothing more than a twig easily snapped,” blue eyes focused on Jackson a moment too late to notice the cringe when he mentioned the gnarled piece of wood being snapped. He did notice the Druid opening his mouth and it was not to take a bite of food. “Laddie, Jackson, listen, I know you could have gotten away from the Changewing’s acid, I’ve seen your skills at evading and dodging and one Changewing wouldn’t have been a problem for you. Hiccup should have had more faith in your abilities.”

The bright smile on the brunet’s face made Finn smile as well. Jackson just seemed to have that sort of effect on people. If he was happy, he liked to share his happiness with others and no one seemed to be immune to the effect. On the other hand, if the boy was upset or angry, he would disappear to deal with the problem by himself. Finn was actually surprised the lad had come to him and it made the old hunter feel relieved Jackson trusted him enough to come to him with his problems.  

“However,” Finn continued, knowing the brunet wasn’t going to like this next part but it needed to be said, “you need to understand that you’re not alone out there. The other Dragon Riders are right there next to you, they’ll have your back and will intervene if they think you’re in danger. Exactly like how I know you’d do the same given the opportunity. That’s what happens when you are a part of a team.”

As the hunter finished, Finn feared he had said something wrong when all the color the Druid had gained since first arriving on Berk drained from his face leaving behind a deathly white pallor. Jackson didn’t appear to be breathing which had the Viking pushing his chair out hastily, ready to jump across the table to aid the boy with whatever was ailing him. Sneaky beat him to it, appearing on top of brown locks and jolting the lad out of his state with an ear-piercing shriek. Taking a gasp of air, grief-stricken eyes peered up at him with such a heart-wrenching look that it was now Finn who wasn't breathing.

“Team?” the word was spoken so softly that the hunter doubted his ears would have picked up the word if not for how still and quiet the hut had suddenly become. Finn couldn’t even hear the wind rustling around the hut at all and it was always rustling out near the cliffs.

“Yer a Dragon Rider, you are part of the team,” the Viking shrugged helplessly, not knowing how else to phrase it.

“But I don’t…I mean, Hiccup is the one that flies Toothless, I just catch a ride,” the frail-looking child stuttered and Finn knew his heart was breaking then, finally realizing what was going on.

Jackson didn’t feel like he was a part of the team. He was a foreigner, an outsider of the tribe, without a place of his own, a place where he belonged.

“Laddie, you’ve been involved with almost every dragon-related issue since coming to the village. Yer as much of a Dragon Rider as the rest of them, you don’t need to have a dragon to be one of them. Ye already are,” Finn explained and the crestfallen look on the boy’s face had an idea brewing in the back of his mind since it was clear Jackson didn’t believe a single word he said. “Stay here and eat your food, I have something I gotta do real quick. Sneaky, come here.”

The Viking left the boy to push the remaining food around his plate—he seriously doubted Jackson would eat any more in his current state—and walked over to the stack of items he had yet to unpack piled in the corner. Rummaging around in search of some parchment and the piece of charcoal he used to mark up the furs and leathers, Finn was relieved to find he still had both and they weren’t lost in the move. He made out his request to the chief and prayed the man wouldn’t be too busy to read it. Another prayer, this time to Odin, had the hunter praying Stoick the Vast would grant the request.

Tying the rolled-up letter to the Terrible Terror’s leg, he sent Sneaky off. In the meantime, Finn kept the lad busy by requesting his help with unpacking and organizing the pile the hunter had just been rummaging through. The brunet didn’t look happy with the task, but he didn’t refuse the request either. Jackson rarely refused to lend a hand to anyone when they asked, which made him really popular among the children when they needed help with their chores. Something he’d begun to expand to the older generations as well from what Finn had heard around the rumor mill; Jackson had a growing reputation that he didn’t seem to be aware of.

A knock at the door had Finn excusing himself from the significantly smaller pile. He wasn’t surprised to open the door to find Hiccup standing on the other side. He was taken aback, however, when his eyes landed on the large white bandages wrapped securely around the young Viking’s right arm since he hadn’t thought the boy's burns were that bad. A little ways off, his little niece and the rest of the Dragon Riders were settling their dragons in before gathering behind their leader.

“Ah good, you’re here,” the hunter stated and moved out of the way, holding the door open for the group to shuffle through. “Come on in. I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

Hiccup’s smile was strained as he walked inside only to pause briefly when vivid green eyes took note of Jackson in the corner unpacking a box full of wax-sealed jars. The brunet appeared to be oblivious to the new arrivals until his darling niece spoke up, alerting the lad to their presence.

“Actually Uncle, Hiccup only told us the chief had a request for the Dragon Training Academy and told us to come here. We’re not sure why,” Astrid said, following right behind Hiccup with the twins on her heels and Fishlegs taking up the rear after Snotlout pushed him aside. Once the Dragon Riders were inside and the door closed, Finn noticed what little color had returned to Jackson’s face had vacated it once more.

“Ah, I guess he left it up to me to explain,” the hunter nodded and sat down at the table. “Laddie, come here, this involves you too.”

The others glanced around the hut to see what their leader had immediately spotted upon entry, finally taking notice of the Druid sitting silently in the corner. Gracefully, Jackson stood up and collected his staff from the ground before joining them around the table. It was clear to Finn how things stood between the lad and the rest of the Academy members with how Jackson positioned himself near the group yet far enough away to make him appear separate. That was going to have to change.

“Now that you’re all here, I’ve got a training exercise for you, approved by the chief,” Finn began, keeping an eye on the lad. Jackson appeared disinterested, fiddling with the crystal hanging from his staff yet the hunter’s blue eyes caught glimpses of amber as the brunet tried to hide his curiosity.

“A training exercise? What sort of training exercise?” Tuffnut asked, sounding a bit too forlorn at the prospect of work.

“A teamwork exercise,” the man answered, looking squarely at the blond teenaged Viking who was smart enough to snap his mouth shut instead of making any further comments. “The rumors I’ve been hearing around the village speak poorly of your teamwork and normally, I wouldn't buy into such hearsay.  However, I've talked at great lengths with both Gobber and Binn, and have heard some of your own personal accounts to boot, and it's become clear your teamwork needs some improvement.”

“Teamwork? But we work great together with our dragons, our teamwork is flawless,” Fishlegs pointed out, shuffling from foot to foot.

“And you would be correct, I’ve seen you and your dragons work flawlessly together. I haven’t seen you work flawlessly together with each other though,” Finn pointed out causing the Dragon Riders to exchange looks with one another. The hunter didn’t fail to notice that none of them looked in Jackson's direction nor did he miss amber eyes dropping to the floor as shoulders slumped. “This was why I asked the chief for permission to run you all through a few drills of my own. You’ll be split up into pairs to work with one another to complete a certain assignment of my choosing. In three days’ time, we will reconvene to see how far you’ve gotten. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I have a question,” Ruffnut called out, actually being polite and raising her hand. Finn nodded in her direction and she lowered her hand. “Can we pick the pairs? Uh, sir?”

“No, and since you’re so eager to be sorted, I’ll start with you,” Finn said and nodded towards the male Thorston as well. “You two will be teamed up with Fishlegs to teach him how to use that Gronckle Iron Sword of his and don’t try to slack off. I know your sister, Huffnut, taught both of you how to use a sword properly. I might even mention it to her this evening at the council meeting and you know Huffnut will want to make sure you are doing her proud and will stop in to check on your progress. So, you better teach him right or you’ll both be the ones facing your sister’s wrath.”

“Yessir,” the twins said standing up straight and looking utterly terrified of the prospect of being subjected to Huffnut’s wrath.

“Fishlegs, you’ll be teaching them the importance of armor and how to take care of it,” the Viking directed, hoping that by forcing an Ingerman—who were known for their armor—and the Thorstons—who were famous for their offensive capabilities—to work together, they could help each other compensate for their weaknesses.

The heavyset Viking nodded his head. “I can do that… I hope.”

“Lass, you and Snotlout will be working together, and don’t give me that look, Lass, I invented it. You two will be trading dragons and teaching each other something new about Stormfly and Hookfang. The catch is you can’t talk to one another until two of the days are up. This way you’ll know what it’s like to climb a mountain in each other’s boots.”

“Fine,” Astrid grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

“Do I have to?” the burly brunet complained.

“Do you want to face Stoick and explain to him why you’re the only one not doing as you’re told?” the hunter countered, a blond eyebrow raising up into matching bangs.

“No,” Snotlout glared at the shieldmaiden, mumbling something under his breath about having to ride a girly dragon.

“Good, now Hiccup, that leaves you and Laddie as the last team. You’re going to teach him how to be a Dragon Rider,” Finn finished pairing the group off, quite pleased with how both Hiccup and Jackson’s heads shot up at the last announcement.

“Huh?”

"What?"

“You’re going to teach him how to be a proper Dragon Rider,” the older Hofferson explained to the Viking rendered speechless before turning to Jackson, “and Laddie, you’re going to teach him what it means to be a Druid. The goal of this exercise is to show each other a little bit of who you are and bond over your shared experiences. Got it? Good, now out you go. I expect you all back here in the morning, three days from now, bright and early.”

Walking the group of teenagers out, Finn watched them leave before turning and surveying the field of rotting cabbage. “Now what am I going to do about this?”


“So,” Jack started, unsure how to begin or what to say. The Dragon Riders, after complaining about their pairings, had taken off on their dragons and headed back to the village. The ex-spirit thought he'd be making the trek back on foot alone. He'd thought wrong. He'd made it to the end of the cabbage field when Toothless landed next to him and his rider dismounted to walk beside him. “Tomorrow then, we’ll meet up and we can go over things then.”

The immortal teen tried to leave it at that, to walk away and give the Dragon Rider space. He didn’t get far. A hand wrapped around his wrist, the grip gentle and loose—something he could easily break free of—and held him in place. Jack turned to find Hiccup holding his wrist with his uninjured hand. Another pang of guilt shot through the Guardian and into his heart at the sight of the bandages he had actively avoided looking at.

“Look, Jackson, about yesterday—,” the chief’s son attempted to bring up Jack's failings.

“Hiccup,” the brunet attempted to cut him off but Hiccup wouldn’t have it and spoke over him.

“—It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was,” Jack snapped before the Dragon Rider could say more. Yanking his wrist from Hiccup, the Guardian ran trembling fingers through his hair. Knowing he needed to calm down, he took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest, whispering so lowly he wouldn’t have thought the auburn-haired Viking could hear. “You got hurt protecting me.”

“And you got hurt protecting me too. When I was checking the well and the rope broke, you dove into the well to rescue me and injured your shoulder,” Hiccup gently reminded him, placing his good hand on the concerned dragon’s head. “That makes us even.”

The Guardian shook his head, grip tightening on his staff. “It is not the same.”

“And how is it any different?” the chief’s son countered, not willing to let it go.

“It just is,” Jack said petulantly. He wasn’t about to say it was because he was a Guardian of Childhood and it was his duty to protect children like Hiccup, that it never should have been the other way around. He shouldn’t have needed Hiccup’s protection, he should have the ability to protect himself, but he hadn’t been able to. The truth was, he wasn’t a Guardian here and that realization was finally sinking in. Without frost at his fingertips, he wasn’t anyone’s Guardian but a liability.

“Jackson,” the auburn-haired teenager sighed, taking a tentative step closer to the brunet. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your pride. I couldn’t bear to watch anything happen to you. In spite of everything—no—because of everything, you’re one of us.”

“Am I really?” the immortal teenager murmured, not realizing he had spoken aloud. His mind drifting over his inclusion to the Guardians of Childhood or the lack of therefore. Even in his own time, when he was a part of the Guardians and they were supposed to be a team, he never truly felt like one of them. They were still referred to as the Big Four even though he’d been a part of their team for some time.

Was Jack ever going to find a place where he truly belonged?

Chapter 33: Dragon Rider and Druid

Chapter Text

Jack was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Hiccup grabbing hold of his wrist once more, tugging him along after the Dragon Rider. “Come on, Jackson.”

“Huh…Wait! Where are we going?” the ex-spirit fumbled for his footing, almost stumbling over a rock as Hiccup determinedly pulled a very confused brunet with him.

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy hauled Jack towards Toothless—whose ear-plates were perked up and was looking at the two with his head cocked to the side—and pushed him at the dragon. “As a Dragon Rider of Berk, the first thing you’ve got to know how to do is ride a dragon and we’re going to start now.”

“What?” amber eyes blinked rapidly with an otherwise blank look on his face.

“Finn said we are to show each other what it means to be a Dragon Rider and a Druid, we’re going to start now,” Hiccup patiently explained, giving Jack another nudge forward. The Night Fury, hearing his rider’s plan, stood and presented his side to the brunet, making it easier for him to climb in the saddle.

The auburn-haired Viking waited for a minute, looking pointedly at Jack who finally sighed and mounted the dragon. It felt strange sitting so far up in the saddle. He was used to sitting further back, near the edge. Looking over at Hiccup, he found the Dragon Rider grinning at him. When he was sure Jack was comfortable, the shorter teenager motioned to the stirrups.

“Now first things first, you’ve got to secure your foot into the stirrup properly. It might be a little uncomfortable since it’s made for my metal leg, but you should still be able to work the pulley system just fine,” Hiccup coached, and the weirdness the ex-spirit was feeling intensified as he did his best to follow the Viking’s instructions.

Jack easily slid his right foot in but had to wriggle his left boot to squeeze the leather into the custom stirrup. Adjusting his left foot, he felt the pulley system shift and froze. Eyes snapped to the metal stirrup, fearing he’d done something wrong, and, somehow, managed to break it. When nothing happened and Hiccup didn’t say anything, the Druid shifted again until he finally got his foot situated comfortably.  

“Okay, now what?” the brunet looked up, amber eyes staring straight into vivid green as he waited for further instructions from the Head of the Academy.

“Now we fly,” Hiccup grinned climbing on behind Jack causing the Druid’s body to tense. After a moment, he convinced himself to relax. His body only started to uncoil when thin arms wrapped around his waist. The ex-spirit was proud he didn’t tense up for a second time. He couldn’t control his respiratory rate, however, and his breathing doubled.

“Right… um,” Jack glanced down at the staff in his hand and looked for a place to put it. Hiccup usually strapped his shield to the saddlebag, but the Druid didn’t know if the gnarled piece of wood would stay put or fall from the strap and he wasn't about to risk losing it. Brown eyebrows furrowed together as an idea came to mind. Taking the staff, he angled it down diagonally through the neck of his cloak and down his back where he made sure it went between the belt of his pouches to secure the crook. Hesitantly, he let go and felt his worry drain away when the gnarled wood didn’t budge.

Once he had his hands free to grip the saddle, Hiccup proceeded to talk him through the process of taking off. He took extra time to explain the different gears, how they controlled the mechanisms attached to the red tailfin, and when it was best to shift to certain gears. By the time the first lesson was over, Jack was able to successfully adjust the tailfin's position enabling Toothless to take off and land without any major problems and they were working on gliding when dusk crept up on them.

“That was fun,” the ex-spirit admitted as he adjusted the tailfin for landing a bit too late. Toothless easily compensated for the mistake and they touched down near the edge of the forest.

There was definitely something about sitting in front as they flew that had him feeling at home in the skies, regardless that it was Toothless who was doing most of the work. It was the closest he’d come to the way he'd regularly flown in the future and while he’d accompanied Hiccup on various flights before, he had little to no control. This though? This made Jack feel lighter than he had in some time.

“We’ll make a Dragon Rider out of you yet. That was pretty good for your first time,” the Viking gave him an encouraging smile as he dismounted and moved back to allow the brunet enough room to swing himself off of the Night Fury’s back.

“Thanks,” Jack ducked his head—hiding the flush that surely stained his cheeks red—and pulled his staff out from behind him. Stretching out, he turned to see Hiccup looking towards the village and an impish grin tugged at the corner of the eternal teen’s lips. Catching the back of the Dragon Rider’s vest with the crook of his staff, the Druid yanked the teen back towards him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To bed?” Hiccup asked more than answered.

“Nope!” the taller teen all but sang. “You taught me how to be a Dragon Rider and now it’s my turn to teach you to be a Druid.”

“We still have tomorrow.”

“But tonight’s the full moon,” Jack looked up at the Moon Clipper peeking out from behind a few cumulous clouds, missing how both dragon and Dragon Rider tensed at the mention of the moon, “and tonight the forest will be brimming with life. We need to get a move on if we want to see everything. The fun’s just beginning.”

The winds picked up, blowing the cumulous clouds out of the way to allow the moon’s light to stream through and illuminate the area growing dark as the last rays of the sun faded. Grinning, the brunet nudged Hiccup in the side with the end of his staff before lightly tapping Toothless on the head and took off running into the forest. A startled cry of his name had Jack laughing and picking up his pace. He could hear the Night Fury and his rider having a bit of trouble keeping up with him on foot. However, when the noises Hiccup and Toothless were making became hard to hear, the eternal teenager slowed down.

A low-hanging branch gained his attention which had him reaching up with his staff. The hook caught the limb and, with a little extra effort, Jack swung up to grab the branch with his free hand. He pulled himself up and made himself comfortable, swinging his legs back and forth, as he waited. It took them a few minutes but Hiccup and Toothless managed to stumble into the clearing with the dragon leading the way.

“Gotta try a bit harder than that to keep up,” Jack called down, causing two sets of green eyes to shoot upwards. The Druid grinned and waved, catching their attention before bouncing to his feet and continuing on his way through the forest using a faster—albeit more dangerous—route. The winds aided him in keeping his balance as he traveled through treetops and across branches, making sure he traveled slow enough that he was always in Hiccup’s direct line of sight.

As he sprang from one tree to the next, a tall tree in the middle of the burnt forest caught his attention and had him changing his route. Some ways in and he was forced to drop to the ground due to the burnt tree husks incapable of supporting his weight. Once back on the ground, Toothless quickly caught up with Jack’s slower pace and further slowed him down, giving Hiccup time to draw alongside the brunet.

Jack held up his hand, stopping the Night Fury and his rider in their tracks. The Druid then carefully made his way over and stopped before the slightly burnt tree. Despite being chard and covered in a layer of soot, there was a lot of new growth around the top, showing the tree hadn’t been too badly damaged during the forest fire.

“This is a Hamadryad, a particular type of Dryad which, in turn, is a particular type of nymph,” Jack informed the Dragon Rider, rapping his knuckles on the bark of the trunk in a tattoo. “She’s still relatively young and was burnt during the recent forest fire, but she’s resilient with strong roots. Those roots will carry on, spreading through this land, providing the saplings around here with the life force needed to grow big and strong.”

“How do you know?” Hiccup asked, studying the tree and not seeing anything different between it and any of the other burnt husks in the vicinity.

“Look again,” the brunet swept his arm around at the surrounding greenery.

Jack doubted the chief’s son saw the forest the same way he saw it. To him, everything was brimming with vitality and the budding promise of new life. Whereas Hiccup was only seeing the devastation the wildfire left in its wake. Vivid green eyes lingered on the charred remains of fallen trees and the blackened layer of detritus blanketing the forest floor. The Druid looked deeper, drawn to the new growth at the edge of the clearing just starting to sprout through the revitalized soil. Amber eyes were drawn back towards the Hamadryad, the nearer the new growth was to the tree, the taller and more vibrant the foliage was.

“We are in the middle of the damaged area and the older trees around here are still chard with very few new leaves growing from them. This tree, however, is blackened yet, as you can see, there is more new growth on it than any other tree here. Also, look around the base, there is an abundance of new life sprouting around the roots. These are all common signs that a Hamadryad has allowed herself to take root.

“Isn’t that right, beautiful?” the ex-spirit asked, patting the trunk adoringly. Amber eyes caught the stunned expression on Hiccup’s face when the branch above Jack seemed to move on its own accord and ruffle the brunet’s hair. The grass around the roots seemed to stretch out even further while flowers began to grow and bloom in a matter of minutes. The trunk of the tree contorted and for the briefest of moments, a woman’s face and upper body protruded out of the bark before retreating back into the trunk. “That’s enough showing off beautiful, save some of that energy for the winter months; you’re going to need it to help bring back this part of the forest when spring comes.”

The unnatural speedy growth slowed and came to a stop, but not before producing a single flower right in front of Hiccup. It was unlike anything either of the teenagers had seen before blooming black with blue speckles on the backward curving petals edged with blood-red tips. Jack wanted to take a step closer to get a better look but the Dragon Rider was already kneeling in front of the flower. Toothless was right behind him, sniffing the bloom but neither dragon nor Dragon Rider dared touch the bloom.

Hearing a whisper from the winds, Jack turned to see the Hamadryad once again emerging from the trunk for the briefest of moments. The winds twirling around her tree before encompassing him, passing along the message he couldn’t hear. He smiled upon hearing the wind’s translation and turned towards the true recipient of the nymph's unheard words.

Hiccup was startled upon hearing the silvery tones of the brunet’s voice, captivated by the flower. “The Hamadryad made it for you. As a token of appreciation for saving her and the rest of the forest from the wildfire. Go on, take it, she wants you to have it.”

“What kind of flower is it?” the Dragon Rider asked, looking back over at the flower.

Jack tilted his head and let the winds translate the tree’s response. “She created it for you, says you can name it whatever you like. Though, in my personal opinion, it does hold a fair resemblance to a lily.”

“How about naming it a Night Fury Lily then? It kinda reminds me of Toothless,” Hiccup answered after examining the flower in further detail. Then, as gently as possible, he picked the flower, pulling it up by the roots. When the roots hit the air, they shriveled up and fell to the ground in little clumps leaving behind only the flower and its stem. Upon closer inspection of the remains of the roots, it was revealed they were actually seeds which the auburn-haired teen collected as well at the Druid’s insistence that they too were for him.

“I like it and so does she,” the brunet agreed, chuckling as another branch brushed through his hair. “Anyways, Hamadryads are Creatures of Magic, specifically earth magic which means they are all about life and fertility. If you remember, there are a few trees up in the Northern Mountains at Finn’s old home. They are just Hamadryad saplings now but when they’re strong enough, they’ll move into the forest to assist this Hamadryad in keeping the forest brimming with magic and reinvigorating the earth.”

“Are you saying the Hamadryads are keeping Berk’s forests alive?” Hiccup asked, safely tucking the newly named Night Fury Lily and the seeds into Toothless’s saddlebag before joining Jack by the tree. At the Druid’s nod, the chief’s son glanced at the tree and cautiously laid his hand on the bark. “Um, thank you for all you have done for the forest, we really appreciate it.”

There was a moment of silence as the winds raced around the clearing before a branch swept through auburn hair. One of the twigs got tangled in his hair, but Hiccup didn’t seem to care. He gave the tree one last pat and reached up to untangle his hair. Jack didn’t miss the way the Dragon Rider winced at the movement and batted the hands to the side to disentangle the twig. Once Hiccup was free, the eternal teenager took a step back, his hand latching onto the green fabric of a sleeve and tugged.

“Come on, there’s more I want to show you,” the ex-spirit led them deeper into the forest.

It took him a little time but eventually, he found what he was looking for. Well, more precisely, he heard the babbling of water and followed the sound to its source. It wasn’t exactly where he intended to go, but where they wound up was a small brook lined on either side with large green bushes bearing fruit and lush wild herbs growing in between rocks. It wasn’t a place he’d been before, but Jack would have to mark it down as a good place to collect herbs in the future.

“What’s so special here?” Hiccup asked looking into the clear crisp water and at the sparkling rocks below. The Night Fury leaned over and sniffed the water, an ear-plate cocking to the side before he sat down at the water’s edge, looking down as if he was waiting for something.

“Stick your arm in there,” the brunet instructed and received a weird look for his troubles. Rolling his eyes, Jack pointed his staff at the water—the little crystal attached inches away from the babbling brook’s surface—then at the Dragon Rider’s injured arm. “Arm in water, trust me on this.”

Hiccup gave him a crooked smile and responded with no hesitation despite the rhetorical nature of the statement. “I do; trust you that is.”

The comment had Jack at a loss as the chief’s son submerged his whole arm into the brook with no hesitation. A gasp came from the shorter teenager as the water seeped into the bandages and amber eyes watched as it looked like something was being drawn out of the limb, tainting the water briefly before it was washed away downstream. Even the grunge from the bandages was pulled away, leaving behind pristine white cloth.

Toothless let out a soft curious noise as he leaned forward, sniffing at the brook as a bubble of water floated to the top. Hiccup’s eyes were drawn to the bubble and he almost stumbled back when he found a face staring back at him. The only reason he didn’t fall on his ass was due to whatever had a grip on his arm kept him in place.

Jack fought—and failed—to keep his chuckles to himself.

“Villas are Creatures of Magic too, only they deal with water base magic due to them being spirits of brooks and streams. They have excellent healing capabilities and defensive magics just like the other Creatures of Magic associated with the water element,” after his explanation, the Druid turned his attention from the Dragon Rider to the face in the water. “Thank you for healing him by the way.”

“You humble us with your gratitude. It is a mere pittance of what we owe you,” the Villas said as more bubbles began to appear in the brook. Toothless’s eyes darted from one to the next, settling on the one closest to him. Cautiously, the Night Fury reached out a paw and batted at the bubble, drawing his paw back to his body just as quickly as he had lashed out. A jet of water sprayed him in the face in retaliation and this time, Jack didn’t bother holding back his laughter.

His chuckles trailed off when he noticed Hiccup giving him a strange look which had the brunet answering the unspoken question. “I helped them some time ago and they’re repaying the favor. Take a look at your arm.”

Frowning, the chief’s son pulled the appendage from the brook and undid the soaking-wet bandages. Vivid green eyes went impossibly wide as his jaw dropped when unblemished skin was revealed where there had been blood and infection only a couple of hours previously. Gothi hadn’t had much hope when the wound started showing signs of festering after he’d first visited with the healer and she feared they might have to cut off the limb if the infection continued to spread. However, now it looked like the Changewing’s acid had never touched his skin, not even a scar remained.

“That’s amazing,” the Viking breathed, out running his hand over the soft skin, noticing that the small burn mark he’d received on his first day as Gobber’s apprentice was gone as well.

“Magical Creatures usually are,” Jack shrugged, taking a cloth out of his leg pouch and began drying off Toothless’s head with it. The dragon was completely drenched now because the little battle he’d instigated with a few of the young Villas had gotten out of hand while Hiccup was distracted. “Hamadryads and Villas are only two species of Magical Creatures here on Berk and there are so many more. Not just in the archipelago, but all over the world, so many different species, different types, and each is associated with one or even multiple elements.

“Magical Creatures of Fire have only a very select few species within their group compared to the other element classifications. After seeing just how many different subspecies of dragons there are though, it’s beginning to make sense to me why there are so few other Creatures of Magic that are classified under fire. Before, some Druid clans believed that those associated with the element were the most destructive type of Creatures of Magic and that was why there were so few fire creatures, to prevent tipping the Balance and throwing the world into chaos.

“However, I’ve always held the belief Magical Creatures of Fire have little to do with destruction and chaos but more to do with protection and creation,” the ex-spirit trailed off when he finished drying Toothless who crooned in appreciation and rubbed his head against the brunet’s stomach. Seeing the dragon before him, Jack couldn’t understand how anyone thought they were destruction and chaos incarnate.

“What about wind?” Hiccup inquired about the last element.

Jack ceased petting Toothless to really think about the answer. “I know there’s some, but I don’t know many Creatures of Magic associated with the wind. Well, there is the Sisters of Flight, but I haven’t met them,” which wasn’t exactly true since Toothiana was the last member of the Sisters of Flight but she tended to associate herself more with being the Guardian of Memories than being a part of the Sisterhood, “oh, and griffins. Griffins are Magical Creatures of Wind.”

“And what are they associated with?”

“Usually, adaptation and vitality,” the ex-spirit answered, eyes sparkling as the wind swirled around them and tugged on his clothing, telling him to add all sorts of things on why it was the best element. “And maybe a little bit of unpredictability.”

“Just like the wind,” the Dragon Rider sniggered, having to shield his eyes from the spray of water the winds unintentionally blew in his face in their eager state.

“Just like the winds,” Jack agreed, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Okay, so where shall we go next? You’ve already met the Wyldfae, the Hamadryads, and the Villas. I’m pretty sure there are a few water-nymphs around Berk, but I haven’t come across any of them yet. Hmm…what else, what else?”

“Child, before you leave there is one last thing we wish to ask,” the Villas spoke up, drawing three pairs of eyes back to the faces in the water. The eternal teen blinked a few times having thought they had already left like they had done last time.

“What is it?” Jack leaned over, amber eyes finding the face he was most familiar with, and looked to that face for answers.

The Villas began to swirl around, forming a circle as an image of Berk’s harbors took shape. “There is a water creature that has entered the oceans surrounding us, she wishes to stay here. She says her name is Scauldy.”

To prove the claim, the image in the water showed a long thin neck emerging from the ocean with a large slender head, the bottom jaw having a sort of pouch hanging from the dragon’s chin. As they watched, the massive green dragon crawled up the beach on four stubby legs disproportionate to her large body and even bigger wings, one of which was in a makeshift sling. Her fishlike tail made a splash as she left the water completely while she raised her head and the nostrils on either side of her horned nose flared out, sniffing the air.

The image faded out as the faces started to fade away, save for one. “Please take care of her.”

“What are we going to do with a Scauldron around here?” Hiccup asked but the Villas were already gone. The chief’s son groaned and looked in the direction of what Jack could only assume was the beach in the image shown. Toothless let out a warble, glancing from the brook to the brunet to land on his rider where acid green eyes stayed.

“I have an idea,” Jack grinned.


The next morning, Hiccup joined the Druid sitting on top of the cliffs overlooking the docks to watch their work from the night before come into play. Jack stifled a yawn as they waited, wishing they hadn’t had to get up so early after their long night. Still, he was eager for the day ahead. They were going to continue where they had left off the day before in their Druid and Dragon Rider lessons.

Jack couldn’t wait to fly Toothless again. He was also looking forward to showing the Viking more about the magical side of Berk. Some of the Dewdrop Faeries volunteered to help when he asked if there was any place he should show the chief’s son.

His mental planning was put on hold when the brunet spotted a short stubby Viking dragging a large mass of nets down the slope to the docks. A bubble of excitement had all traces of sleepiness gone as his anticipation built. Nudging Hiccup in the side, the Dragon Rider about came out of his skin when he jerked up—having dozed off—and looked over at Jack with the most adorable sleepiness lingering in vivid green eyes. Amber eyes sparkled with life as he used his staff to gesture to the docks below. Their morning show was about to begin.

MULCH!” Bucket yelled as the shorter fisherman hobbled over the uneven road to the docks. His loud voice was easily heard regardless of the distance between the fishermen and the two teenagers.

“I’m coming Bucket, I’m coming. What’s all the ruckus about?” Mulch huffed out, having trouble dragging the nets, and though his voice was lower than the blond Viking, it was loud enough for Hiccup and Jack to hear with the assistance of the winds. The short Fisherman stumbled as he walked backwards, over the uneven wooden docks but he didn’t fall. Instead, he left the nets where they were and wiped the sweat from his face.

The eternal teenager was almost bouncing where he sat when Mulch turned around and bit his tongue to keep from bursting out in a fit of laughter. Besides him, Hiccup snorted when the Viking did fall on his ass this time after coming face-to-face with Scauldy.

“Look what Hiccup and Jackson got me! Me very own dragon,” Bucket exuberantly babbled as he petted the head of the Scauldron coming out of the water. “They remembered I wanted one when we brought back the Skrill and they got me one. Her name’s Scauldy and she is such a good dragon. Yes, she is, she’s going to help us with our fishing and we are going to feed her and play with her. We’ll take such good care of her, won’t we Mulch?”

Chapter 34: Lessons for Two Dragon Riders

Notes:

I would just like to point out that I do research the Viking and Druid cultures to get them at least somewhat close to what they were most likely like in history. Although, there are some things which HTTYD has shown which isn't historically true—cough Viking Helmets cough—and then there are the few liberties I do take - Druid's actually were very big on human sacrificing, which yeah, I'm not going to do - for creative licensing purposes. As for the magic aspects, a lot of you've figured it out, but it is a mix of Merlin, Dresden Files, and a little pinch of Harry Potter thrown in with a dash of mythology and legends. I must admit, I like staying true to real historical aspects when it suits me, if not, it's thrown out the window. XP

Very glad you all liked Hiccup and Jack's bonding time with the magic thrown. It seemed appropriate to me that Hiccup starts to see Jack in a different light while magic was surrounding them.

Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last.

Chapter Text

"Impressive," Finn commented after going three rounds with Fishlegs. The younger Viking had lost all three rounds; however, he had the basics down and he didn't lose his hold on his sword even once. That was more than could be said two days ago. His footwork needed vast improvement—which was the reason he had lost all three rounds—but he had managed to block the majority of Finn's attacks.

More impressive was that the boy had not stayed on the defensive completely and had dealt a few poorly executed attacks of his own. The first time Fishlegs attacked, Finn was stunned and hadn’t been properly prepared. Not that the boy had gotten a hit in, the hunter had moved out of the way instead of parrying the blow as he should have. Overall, the twins ingrained the very basics of swordsmanship in Fishlegs, giving him a good foundation to work off of if he ever wanted to continue on and learn how to correctly wield that Gronckle Iron Sword of his.

Holding a hand out to the heavyset teenager, Finn helped the boy up. The smile on the young Viking’s face from the simple comment was blinding but looked good on him. Fishlegs desperately needed a confidence boost and with the Academy members clapping—the twins’ cheers and applause the loudest of them all—behind them, it was good for the boy’s fragile ego.

"Thank you, the twins are actually pretty good teachers,” the heavyset teenager admitted, green eyes glancing over at the two blondes that had gone from clapping for their trainee to fighting with each other over who’d taught Fishlegs what. “I didn't realize they knew so many different styles of sword fighting. Usually, they just swing their swords around wildly and, I… uh… didn't think they could actually fight."

"Thorstons are known for their swordsmanship. However, I can understand the confusion. From what I can tell, the twins take after their mother more than their father. They tend to be more inclined to the chaotic and scatterbrained side than the tacticians of their ancestors, but don't let that fool you. They are still Thorstons and know how to wield a sword," Finn explained glancing at the twins whose fight had now come to blows. "Now, Tuffnut, Ruffnut, what have you two learned?"

The two immediately stopped fighting where they stood with Tuffnut’s right arm wrenched backwards around his neck due to his wrist being held in his sister’s hand. Ruffnut’s other hand was frozen against her brother’s face while her teeth were currently halfway sunk into the arm protector currently around her neck. The two, when they saw all eyes on them, quickly disentangled themselves from each other and stood up straight as if they hadn’t been doing anything wrong moments prior.

“Um? What was the question?”

Sharing a look with Fishlegs, Finn answered Tuffnut. “What have you learned about armor from Fishlegs?”

"This stuff is amazing!" Ruffnut broke into a grin, holding up her arms to show off the new dark blue, violet, and light brown cloth bracers that started at her elbows and wrapped around her whole arm to end at her wrists. “There’s metal weavings inside that make my punches stronger.”

"It's spiky and dangerous all at once!" the blond flexed his bicep to flaunt the leather armband adorned with metal cone spikes every few inches. "Gobber is even making spikes for my boots with matching arm bracers too!"

Fishlegs's shoulders slumped down and gave Finn a helpless look. "I did my best to teach them about armor, but… uh… it didn't quite go as planned. They wouldn't sit still long enough to listen to any of my explanations. I thought taking them to Gobber's shop to see some of the armor he makes for my family might get them interested, but instead, Gobber regaled us all with stories of the various armor he made while he worked. That's the best I could do."

"You did well," the hunter corrected, nodding towards Tuffnut showing Snotlout how sharp the spikes really were. "You got them interested in armorer and that is the best I could’ve hoped for. Tuffnut just didn't order new boots with spikes from Gobber. Both of them ordered a full set of chainmail to line their tunics with and a few pieces of metal plating to be sewn into their clothing over vital areas."

"Really?" the young Viking perked up and looked over at the two Thorstons with wide eyes. "I… I didn't know that I got through to them."

"Well, you did, good job," Finn slapped Fishlegs on the shoulder and shoved him back towards the sidelines while motioning with his other hand to the next group to come up. "Alright, Lass, Snotlout, you're up next."

"Right," Snotlout strolled forward with a confident gait, though the confidence soon melted away as blue eyes began to look around. "Ah, where are the dragons?"

The question had everyone looking behind them and around the area where the dragons had been at the beginning of Fishlegs and Finn’s little exhibition. Toothless was still seated between his rider and Jackson while Meatlug was happily munching on a few rocks. However, the other dragons were nowhere to be seen and none of them had noticed the dragons wandering off either.

“They didn’t fly away, we would have noticed,” Astrid pointed out logically, eyes fleetingly darting up to the cloudy sky above.

"Toothless and Meatlug are still here," Hiccup frowned, vivid green eyes looking up at the hut to see if the missing dragons might have climbed up the structure for some sunbathing.

A roar from the field behind the hut had the group turning their attention in that direction.

"I'm no expert, but I'd say that way," Jackson commented, making his way around the wooden structure.

The rest of the group followed him as the sounds of various different growling dragons peppered the air. They found the missing dragons in Finn’s half-plowed field but more worrying than them wandering off in the first place was the fact that they were all fighting. There was little time to take in the quarreling dragons before an aqua-green Terrible Terror was smacked out of the fray by Hookfang's tail. The little dragon was knocked unconscious from the blow and sent sailing.

"Toothless, catch!" Hiccup yelled when he saw the Terrible Terror’s trajectory was heading over the side of the steep cliff. A darker Terrible Terror soon followed courtesy of Stormfly's wing in the opposite direction. "Jackson!"

"On it," the Druid was already in motion, jumping onto a covered barrel of rotten cabbage and using it to propel himself high enough to catch Sharpshot in his arms. He landed in a crouch and uncrossed his arms to check on the little dragon.

Sharpshot's eyes sprang open, revealing mere slits. An angry growl escaped the little dragon which soon tapered off. The Terrible Terror blinked a few times, pupils expanding and returning to normal before Sharpshot looked around, seemingly confused at where he was. When he caught sight of the Druid, the green dragon launched himself at Jackson’s neck, cooing. The brunet laughed and attempted to pry Sharpshot away with little success.

"We're okay here," he shouted to the Vikings.

Sighing in relief, Hiccup turned towards the edge of the cliff where the Night Fury struggled with his Terrible Terror. "Toothless?"

A distorted growl came from the black dragon due to Sneaky being held in his mouth. The aqua-colored Terrible Terror was hissing and squirming wildly around, making it difficult for Toothless to keep hold of the dragon. Yet, once Jackson took Sneaky from the Night Fury, the little dragon appeared to calm down and launched himself onto the other side of the Druid's neck not occupied by Sharpshot.

From the expression on his face, the brunet looked like he would rather have left Sneaky with Toothless. A growl from the Night Fury and a show of plasma building up in his mouth had both Terrible Terrors squealing. As one they detached themselves from Jackson’s neck and bolted into the air. The two Terrible Terrors circled around before landing on the crook of the Druid’s staff. Safely out of Toothless's reach but still close enough to Jackson.

While Toothless and Jackson were busy rescuing the Terrible Terrors, the larger dragons continued with their assault on one another. Hookfang escalated things from simple teeth and talons to a gigantic wave of flames hurled straight at Stormfly. The Deadly Nadder avoided the attack by taking to the skies. From her new vantage point, the Sharp-class dragon hurled magnesium fire at Barf and Belch.

The Hideous Zippleback protected himself by releasing a cloud of gas that was ignited by the incoming flames, creating a wall of flames around the two-headed dragon. Barf’s head lashed out of the flames a moment later and latched onto the Deadly Nadder’s leg as she flew overhead. Belch tried to grab onto her as well, but the second head was forced to retreat from a flame covered Hookfang.

Claws and teeth tore at scales as the three dragons fought in close combat. A screech from one of them—and no one could tell which one by this time—had them separating yet none were backing down. The trio of dragons circled, eyes darting back and forth between each other, but none would move in. All three hissed and growled, doing their best to get the other two to back down despite not wanting to back off themselves.

Taking the opportunity presented to them, the Dragon Riders moved towards their respective dragons’ sides in an attempt to put an end to the feud.

“Stormfly, calm down! It's me! Everything is okay!” Astrid was the first to reach one of the three dragons seeing how she was closest to the Deadly Nadder.

The shieldmaiden fearlessly reached a hand out to stroke light blue scales reassuringly. Astrid ducked out of the way as the Sharp-class dragon lunged forward to snap at Hookfang else she be knocked out by Stormfly’s tail. Covering her head, the blonde waited in trepidation until she heard the dragons moving back, away from her position. Only then did she stand up, blue eyes forlorn as the hissing Deadly Nadder ignored her presence and wondered what was going on to cause all this. If she knew, maybe she could get her Stormfly back.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut weren’t having any better luck with the Hideous Zippleback. They attempted to gain Barf and Belch’s attention by offering the dragon some of the few heads of rotten cabbage still lingering in the field. However, the two heads paid them no heed and the blondes were flung back in different directions when twin tails caught Ruffnut in her midsection first and then Tuffnut as the tails whipped back around.

Hiccup dove forward and pinned Ruffnut to the ground to keep her from becoming firewood for a Monstrous Nightmare’s flame. Neither bearing witness to the other Thorston getting flung in the opposite direction. The direction where the cliff was located. Jackson didn’t think as he threw himself onto Toothless’s back and shifted the mechanical tailfin open, urging the Night Fury forward at the speeds necessary to catch Tuffnut before he hit the ground.

“AHHHHHHHH!” the Hideous Zippleback rider screamed before taking a deep breath and began screaming once again as his face dangled mere inches away from a dangerously pointy rock.

When he took a breath for the third time, but before he could scream some more, the clearing of a throat halted him. He craned his head to the side to get a good look up at his feet where the sound came from. There, keeping the Viking from impaling himself on the pointy rock below by gripping Tuffnut’s leg in his mouth, was Toothless.

“Oh, hey, you caught me! Thanks, Hiccup… wait, you’re not Hiccup,” the Viking’s blond brows fused together as he pointed to Jackson who was leaning over the side of Toothless to make sure the Thorston dangling dangerously close to his demise was alright. “Does Hiccup know you stole his dragon? Wait, don’t answer that! I know the answer; Toothless stole you! He’s stealing things to start a hoard of his own.”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Jackson teased with a grin, leaning over to offer the end of his staff to the dangling Viking. Tuffnut contemplated the reverse and shrugged his shoulders before grabbing ahold of the crook to swing up onto Toothless’s back. When the Druid was sure the Viking was safely situated, he turned his attention to the dragon beneath him. “Let’s go, Toothless.”

Back on top of the plateau, Hiccup was dragging Ruffnut back from the fray and towards the Gronckle and her rider. The heavyset Viking took ahold of the shaken girl’s arm and guided her to sit down before her legs gave out.

"What's going on? Why are they fighting?" the Head of the Dragon Academy thought out loud, turning back to face the field where Astrid and Snotlout continued in vain to calm the dragons down.

“I don’t know,” Fishlegs shook his head as he moved closer to Meatlug, patting the Boulder-class dragon on the head to reassure himself she wasn’t going to go crazy and join the fray.

“I do, there’s something sticking halfway up out of the field in the middle of all this. I saw it as we flew overhead,” Jackson shouted from above as Toothless landed off to the side and if Hiccup had more time, he would have been seriously impressed with how fast the Druid had learned the tailfin controls and the little quirks of the mechanisms.

“Can you describe it?” Finn shouted, spinning the handle of his axe in his hand agitatedly. He didn’t want to kill any of their dragons, but he would if any of the teenagers were put in danger again. The older Hofferson hadn’t been prepared to intervene when the twins were thrown, believing the Dragon Riders could handle the dragons. However, that proved to be a mistake. One he wasn’t about to let happen again.

Jackson’s face crinkled as he tried to recall the brief glimpse he had gotten of the thing he’d seen. “It was green and reminded me of some kind of plant bulb, but it was larger than any bulb I’ve seen before. Oh, and it looked like it had some weird growths coming out from all sides.”

Finn nodded his head, blue eyes never leaving the dragons, but he knew exactly what it was the Druid was describing. “Dragon Root.”

“Not Dragon Root! That is terrible,” Tuffnut screeched in horror as he dismounted Toothless, only for his foot to get caught and he ended up falling headfirst into the dirt. A groan of pain escaped him before he lifted his head to reveal his face covered in mud that had everyone cringing.

“You don't actually know what Dragon Root is, do you?” Hiccup asked, giving the overly dramatic Viking a hand up.

“Not even the slightest. Not even the faintest,” Belch’s rider answered cheerfully, holding his thumb and forefinger together to show how little he actually knew. “I mean, I think I know what 'dragon' means.”

“I’ve read about Dragon Root in The Book of Dragons,” Fishlegs spoke up, biting his lower lip and glancing over at the fighting dragons. “It is like Dragon Nip, only more powerful. However, there hasn’t been any in Berk for a few years because…uh…we used it all to bait traps when we still killed dragons.”

“How much more powerful?” the Head of the Academy demanded, bringing the subject back on topic. Now was not the time for a history lesson.

“Dragons crave it,” Finn answered, remembering the last time he’d used Dragon Root. The Monstrous Nightmares he had been after hadn’t stood a chance, they killed each other off and the survivor was already suffering from battle fatigue. It didn’t stand a chance against his axe. “It reverts dragons to the most basic and primal instincts. Their rationality is stripped from them and they become mindless killing beasts.”

“So, basically, it is a drug for dragons?” Jackson inquired, bringing the Vikings’ attention to the Druid standing by Hiccup’s side. Realizing his mistake, the brunet had to refrain from rolling his eyes and reword his question to use more archaic terminology. “It’s a poison that makes them want to rip each other apart wing from wing, right?”

Understanding dawned on the hunter and he nodded his head. “Exactly.”

“Cool,” the twins said in unison.

“Sounds good,” Ruffnut continued, finally standing up now that her legs were no longer shaking.

Tuffnut rubbed his hands together with a gleam in his eyes. “Where can I get some for me? Wait, is there any of these ‘drugs’ for people?”

“Not for a few hundred years, that or eat some questionable wild mushrooms,” Jackson mumbled and this time, he really did roll his eyes when everyone looked at him funny.

“Well, we can't leave Astrid and Snotlout down there,” Hiccup steered the conversation back on track, once again, turning his attention to the dragons and their riders who hadn’t given up their endeavors to soothe the fire breathers. Snotlout’s newest approach was jumping off a small mound of dirt and onto Hookfang’s back, but the Monstrous Nightmare dove to attack Belch and the burly Viking ended up with a mouth full of dirt.

Spitting out dirt, he shouted out in distress. “They're ignoring us! How do we get their attention?”

“Well, I might have an idea,” Astrid called out as she ducked and three different flames met in a giant blast above her head before canceling each other out. “But it's stupid and reckless—”

“You had me at ‘stupid’!” Snotlout cut her off, rolling out of the way as Stormfly and Hookfang both targeted Barf and Belch, knocking the dragon back and almost stepping on the brunet Viking if he hadn’t moved. With the Hideous Zippleback out of the way for the moment, the two remaining dragons rounded on each other.

“Stormfly!” Astrid shouted over the Deadly Nadder’s screech. Recklessly running in front of the blue dragon and throwing her arms out to block her. Jackson had to do the same to keep Finn from running out there to protect his niece. “If you're gonna attack him, you'll have to go through me.”

With the shieldmaiden’s attention fully focused on Stormfly, she didn’t notice Hookfang coming up behind her and jumped when the Monstrous Nightmare roared. Snotlout, thankfully, cottoned on to Astrid’s plan and flung himself between the startled teenaged Hofferson and the red dragon. He threw out his arms to protect Astrid by making himself the larger target.

“Look, Hookfang, we both know you could totally kick Stormfly's tail—,” the burly Viking reassured the Monstrous Nightmare as clouds of smoke came out of the dragon’s nostrils with every huffed breath. “But if you want to try, you have to go through me!”

“Lass, Snotlout! What are you doing?” Finn shouted, having to be kept at bay by not only Jackson, but Ruffnut and Tuffnut too. Sneaky and Sharpshot were even doing their part to help. Digging their claws into the hunter’s shoulders, the Terrible Terrors sought to pull him back by flying backwards.

While they were busy with Finn, Hiccup and Fishlegs took to their dragons. Yet, the Head of the Dragon Academy didn’t intervene. He trusted Astrid and Snotlout’s abilities as Dragon Riders and if they said they had a plan, then he wouldn’t interfere unless absolutely necessary. This was their time to prove themselves.

“I'm not sure,” Astrid shouted back, never lowering her arms or looking away from Stormfly while Snotlout did the same. They both steadily walked forwards while pushing their dragons back and away from the Dragon Root. “But we’re acting like a team, isn’t that the whole point of the last few days? For us to work as a team, right Uncle?”

Finn refused to respond, blue eyes fixed on his niece as she reached out her hand, flinching when the Deadly Nadder screeched and growled. It looked like the dragon would take off the appendage. Stormfly didn’t, instead, she rested her nose against the shieldmaiden’s hand and relaxed. Her whole demeanor changed, going from a wild, raging dragon back to the tamed Deadly Nadder Astrid had bestowed the name Stormfly upon.

“There's my girl,” the shieldmaiden grinned, happiness and relief lacing her words. Snotlout, shadowing the Deadly Nadder rider’s movements, laid his own hand on top of Hookfang’s nose horn. The Monstrous Nightmare reeled back and Hiccup thought he would have to intervene. However, the large dragon just shook his head and growled out affectionately to his rider.

“Ah, you big knucklehead,” the brunet Viking complained lightheartedly, jabbing his finger in Hookfang’s face.

“They did it! We have to get in there,” Hiccup breathed out in relief, before groaning. “But none of us can get close to that root without our dragons going nuts.”

“That's not exactly true, Hiccup. Meatlug didn't go crazy,” the Gronckle rider pointed out from on top of said dragon.

“Maybe Meatlug's rock diet makes her immune to the Dragon Root's effect,” Ruffnut theorized, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought. Both Hiccup and Fishlegs turned to look at her incredulously. Having a hard time wrapping their minds around the idea it was one of the twins who’d come up with the theory while Finn just shook his head, muttering something about the brightest quartz being surrounded by the dullest of exteriors.

“You might want to chance it and get the Dragon Root now,” Jackson advised, pointing his staff in the Hideous Zippleback’s direction, “because Barf and Belch are about to rejoin the fray.”

“Right, Hiccup, we're going for the root. Cover us! Come on, girl,” Fishlegs gulped, patting the Gronckle more to reassure himself than the dragon.

Finn was proud the boy only hesitated for the barest of seconds before heading off towards the Dragon Root. It was obvious the confidence he gained during their swordplay stuck with the Gronckle rider. There was no doubt in the hunter’s mind that this entire plan of his was working out for the better. If more unconventionally than he’d originally intended and a whole lot more dangerous.

He could only watch in trepidation as Meatlug landed near the root. Finn wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath until it became apparent the Gronckle was indeed immune when she grabbed the large, deformed bulb-looking plant without going berserk. His relief was short-lived.

Meatlug was forced to release the Dragon Root when a gaseous ball engulfed the area. Fishlegs barely managed to hang on to the Boulder-class dragon as she flew erratically out of the blast zone and escaped the explosion. A plasma blast from Toothless knocked Barf and Belch back, clearing the way for the Boulder-class dragon to make another go at the Dragon Root.

“Lift with your legs!” Fishlegs instructed the Gronckle as she once again tugged at the large root. Fear started to creep into his voice despite his best efforts to keep calm and carry on. Yet, no matter how much Meatlug yanked and pulled, the root just would not budge. “She can't do it by herself!”

“I’m going in there,” Hiccup called from above the others, as Barf layered an even thicker cloud of gas around Fishlegs and Meatlug.

“No, wait. Look,” Jackson’s shout halted the Night Fury rider. Vivid green eyes traced the path the staff was pointing in and found Stormfly shoving the Hideous Zippleback back before Belch could ignite the gas.

“Astrid, you are a sight for sore eyes,” the heavyset Viking shouted from below the blue dragon.

“Who you calling Astrid?” Snotlout asked from on top of the Deadly Nadder.

“Snotlout?” Fishlegs’s eyes grew in size, astonished to find the burly brunet on Stormfly’s back. “What? Where's…”

“Looking for me?” Astrid chirped from on top of Hookfang.

“Lass, what are you doing?” Finn bellowed as the two dragons got dangerously close to the Dragon Root, the fear the dragons would be pulled under the influence of the Dragon Root once more growing the closer they moved to the root.

The shieldmaiden's grin was wide enough to see even from the ground. “We switched dragons again. It's the only way we can keep them from fighting each other.”

“He can sniff Dragon Root all day, but Hookfang would never attack Snotlout! He respects him too much,” Snotlout proclaimed proudly, speaking in the third person for no discernible reason.

The two Dragon Riders’ brief distraction gave the Hideous Zippleback ample time to produce another cloud of gas. Regardless of them dividing their attention to explain the plan, neither were as unaware as the dragon had assumed. In fact, it gave them the upper hand.

“Do it, Hookfang. Wing Blast!” Astrid commanded and the Monstrous Nightmare gave a larger, extremely more powerful than a normal flap of his wings. The resulting gust of wind not only blew away the cloud of gas as Belch uselessly tried to ignite it, but it also sent the Hideous Zippleback crashing to the ground.

“What was that?” Snotlout yelped, jerking his head back in surprise.

“You mean this?” the shieldmaiden grinned as she had Hookfang direct another blast of wind at the Dragon Root, further exposing the root as Meatlug fruitlessly yanked at it. “It's still stuck!”

“I'm on it. Stormfly, single spine shot!” the broad-shouldered Viking was on top of it, Stormfly zipping over towards the Gronckle rider’s aide.

Placing a hand just below the crown of spines on the Deadly Nadder’s head, the Sharp-class dragon immediately whipped her tail around but instead of letting out a barrage of spines, a single spine hurled through the air with deadly accuracy. It ripped through the small vine-like roots affixing the large bulb in place. With the roots severed, Meatlug surged forward, almost toppling over having lost her equilibrium momentarily.

“Good job, guys!” Hiccup praised as the twins ran towards their dragon to make sure the Hideous Zippleback was fine after taking a beating from Hookfang and Stormfly. “Fishlegs, can you take it from here?”

Fishlegs didn’t need to be told, Meatlug already heading back towards Berk and away from the other dragons. “Dragon Root, flying out.”

“You do realize what happened, right?” Finn asked the remaining Dragon Riders as the dragons landed around Barf and Belch.

Snotlout, not one to hold back on boasts, proudly puffed out his chest and held his head high. “We totally kicked butt!”

“Exactly,” the hunter nodded which had the burly brunet looking at Finn in disbelief before a huge smile spread across Snotlout’s face. “And you all did it together, working as a team.”

“That was some fancy flying on my dragon,” Astrid agreed with her uncle, smiling at the Monstrous Nightmare rider.

“You know how it is. Chicks dig me,” Snotlout bragged, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the shieldmaiden.

The Deadly Nadder rider rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“Hookfang isn't always the easiest dragon to fly, Astrid. I have to admit, I'm impressed,” the burly Viking dropped the arrogance to compliment Astrid in his own roundabout sort of way.

“So, uh, do you think I can have my dragon back now?” the shieldmaiden asked as she climbed down off of Hookfang.

“Thought you'd never ask,” Snotlout sighed in relief, jumping off of Stormfly and running over to the Monstrous Nightmare. Not even caring there were others around to witness the moment of weakness, the burly Viking threw his arm around Hookfang in a giant hug when the red dragon lowered his long neck. “Oh, miss me?

Astrid, on the other hand, carried on at a rather more sedate pace, but she too hugged her dragon when the Deadly Nadder was in arm’s reach.

“Good to see you again, girl.” Petting Stormfly’s head, she turned her attention back to Snotlout. “So, Snotlout, can you teach me how to do that single spine attack?”

The brunet Viking let go of Hookfang and tried to compose himself back to being his usual tough guy persona. “I don't know if you can handle it. Why don't you show me that wing clappy thingy first, and then I'll think about it.”

“Well, it seems like you two have completed your part of this training exercise,” Finn smiled proudly, clapping both of them on the shoulder before turning to look at Jackson. “And it would appear, Jackson, you learned the basics of flying.”

“And a bit more about the different species of dragons,” the brunet added, glancing over at the assembled group of Academy members, moving to the side to make room for the newly returned Meatlug and Fishlegs. “Last night, all of them and Gobber went over The Book of Dragons with me. So, I am better prepared to recognize and deal with dragons when I have to. We had fun.”

“Sure did,” Tuffnut nodded his head sagely.

“Though he’s still not a Dragon Rider,” Ruffnut tacked on, shaking her head.

“Not yet at least,” Snotlout continued before Jackson could react.

“But he will be,” Astrid grinned.

“With this,” Hiccup finished pulling a package tied closed with leather twine out of Toothless’s saddlebag and presented it to the brunet.

Amber eyes blinked down at the wrapped present and then up at the smiling faces of the Dragon Riders. Tucking his staff in the crook of his arm, Jackson took the package uncertainly from the Head of the Academy. One more glance up revealed the teenage Vikings waiting for him to open the present with baited breaths and the brunet was tempted to draw things out even more. However, his own curiosity wasn’t about to let him and he pulled at the leather twine, allowing the cloth to fall away.

On top was a blue scalemail arm bracer with bindings made from the softest leather in all of Berk.

“It’s designed for your right hand, to replace the arm warmer you sacrificed for Scauldy’s splint, my mom helped me design it and the twins got the leather from their brother to make it along with the dyes,” Fishlegs explained as the brunet held up the piece of protective armor.

The Druid nodded, setting the arm bracer to the side to pull out the final item inside the package. The blue object unraveled to reveal what appeared to be a coat of plates—more precisely a jack of plates—with its sleeveless shirt and a high neck design. It too was created out of blue scalemail which matched the arm bracer. Upon further examination of the article of clothing, he found the fastenings were nearly seamless when done up, showing how much care had been taken when crafting the scalemail. The inside was lined using deer hide with an extra layer around the high neck for added protection.

“We asked Kalda, Terrorthi’s mother, to help us make it since she made your shirt and knew your measurements. She created it to be worn over any of the shirts you have,” Hiccup said, rubbing the back of his head. “I designed it, Astrid supplied the deer hide, and Snotlout dyed the scales.”

Jackson’s fingers clenched into the armor and held it close to his body, glancing up briefly with the shyest of smiles on his face. “Thank you.”

“Well, go ahead, put it on. Let’s see how it fits,” Finn wheedled which had the brunet looking like a deer in the line of a dragon’s fire for a moment before he nodded. Jackson took off his cloak to put the scalemail on, but it fit perfectly and best of all, Snotlout’s dye job had the scales matching his cloak. He had some trouble with the arm bracers fastenings at first, but once he figured out the first one, the others went on easily enough.

“Looks good,” Astrid commented when he was finished putting on the armor. “You at least look partly like a Viking now.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to being a Druid,” Jackson grinned at her, a small flush of pink dusting his cheeks.

“A Druid and a Dragon Rider,” Finn smiled, nodding his head in approval.

“Just one question, what’s this made out of?” the brunet asked as he moved around, getting a feel for any restriction the clothing might have and finding none. The article of armor wasn’t too heavy either which meant it couldn’t have been made out of metal as he’d first assumed. He actually thought it might have been lighter than his cloak which was an oddity in itself.

This time, it was Hiccup’s turn to blush as he ducked his head and shifted his weight from foot to mechanical foot and back again. “Well, I… um… I know you’re one more for speed and agility than brute strength, so heavy metals were out of the question. But, anything lighter wouldn’t provide protection and… um… I was at a loss until Periwinkle gave me this.”

The blacksmith’s apprentice dug into the pocket of his vest and produced a small black object. Cocking his head to the side, Jackson took the thin object from Hiccup and turned it over in his hands, examining it. Amber eyes widened when he finally realized what exactly it was he was holding and his head whipped up to look at the Night Fury rider.

“This is a dragon’s scale.”

“Uh huh,” Hiccup confirmed nodding his head. “Toothless’s to be precise.”

“I’m wearing armor made out of dragon scales. This is so awesome,” the brunet began to bounce on his feet, giddily. “Hey, can I keep this too?”

The auburn-haired teenager couldn’t keep the smile off his face at how thrilled Jackson was with the gifts and nodded when he held up the black scale. Green eyes watched as the Druid’s smile grew wider and he looked around before grabbing the leather cord which had kept the present wrapped. Amber eyes examined the black scale and frowned only to smile a second later as he offered it up to Sharpshot. The green Terrible Terror cocked his head to the side before biting the scale, creating a small puncture which Jackson threaded the cord through and tied it to his staff to dangle next to his crystal.

“Now that we’ve seen what Laddie’s learned about being a Dragon Rider, why don't you share with us what you learned about being a Druid, Hiccup?” Finn brought the groups’ attention back to why they were at Finn’s place to begin with; their exhibition.

With all eyes now turned to him, the Head of the Academy shifted awkwardly before rummaging in Toothless’s saddlebag once more. “I learned that there is more out there, more than we can see with our own eyes. That Berk is a larger place than we originally thought and it’s not just us and dragons living here. There are countless more Creatures of Magic living on Berk, who have hidden themselves from us because we were killing off those of their kind and they were in fear for their lives.”

As he spoke, he carefully pulled out the seeds created from the Night Fury Lily’s roots and showed the rest of the Vikings, making sure not to drop any, and looked at the setting sun. Then without hesitation, he threw the blackened seeds up into the air. The others gasped as the winds twirled them through the air as if they were feathers.

The seeds were pulled higher and higher where they exploded remarkably similar to how Toothless’s plasma blasts did. Blue sparkles drifted down which had the dragons sitting up to watch the lights in rapture. The Night Fury even went as far as trying to bat at one of them with his front paws. Barf and Belch attempted to eat some of the sparkles while Stormfly spread her wings and shook them off her body. The two Terrible Terrors chased a couple of the glowing particles while Hookfang was entranced with one that had landed right on his nose. None of them seemed to be able to catch the sparks.

The blue sparkles dimmed before disappearing as they sank into the soil. Darkness overtook the field for a few seconds and then, glowing little saplings rose from the ground growing no more than a few inches. They glowed a bit brighter before the light bled away, revealing healthy plants. All the while the Vikings watched in awe as the Druid of the group held back chuckles at the expressions of wonder washing over their faces.

“But these Creatures of Magic are willing to work with us, if we work with them and listen to Berk’s newest residential Druid.”

Chapter 35: Eel Pox Epidemic

Notes:

Chapter 35? That means there's only 15 more to go and look! I broke 200K! Please keep sticking with me, I know the HiJack is not prevailing, but it is to come. I promise, there's just a few more hiccups (no pun intended) to happen to our boys before they figure things out.

Also, I have edited the last chapter to include a link to art! Druid!Jack which I commissioned from an artist alley artist at a con. Hope this appeases people who want to see what Jack's new outfit looks like. (Also, please tell me if the art isn't showing up, I followed the directions on the Tutorial, but there were some problems.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Hey Jackson,” Hiccup greeted the Druid, entering the forge.

While the Head of the Dragon Academy was glad to see the brunet wearing the armor the Dragon Riders worked together to make for him, the reaction he got to his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” Jackson all but shouted as he dropped what he had been holding and turned around, using his body to hide whatever it was. When he saw it was only the chief’s son, he let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, hi, Hiccup.”

Green eyes stared into gleaming amber. “What are you up to Jackson?”

“Nothing?”

“Really now?” Hiccup asked, walking up to the Druid, and grabbed his shield from behind the brunet who was desperately trying to hide it. “And why do you have this?”

“No reason,” the younger teen said, not looking at him.

“Jackson,” Hiccup slowly drew out the name and the taller teen deflated, flashing him a sheepish grin.

“I might have been using it to entice a flock of Terrible Terrors into Finn’s hut. It’s very shiny you know,” Jackson answered as he pushed himself up onto the workbench and took a seat there, somehow finding the one place where the workbench wasn’t scattered with small ore samples, leathers, furs, herbs, or dried berries without even looking. Reaching over, he pulled his staff from where it was leaning right up against the side of the table into his lap and began fiddling with the crystal and scale attached to the base of the hook.

“I know. I also know you have been spending way too much time with the twins if you are pranking people now too. Why would you play a prank on Finn?” the blacksmith’s apprentice shook his head, walking the shield over to his workbench across the way and setting it down there. In that instance, Hiccup felt something small hit the back of his head, harmlessly bouncing off, and turned to look at the glaring brunet with his arms crossed over his chest and cheeks puffed out indignantly.

“First off, Hiccup, I was playing pranks on people long before I met Ruff and Tuff. So, don’t go blaming them,” the Druid said, pulling one of his knees up to his chest and resting his head there. The revelation actually surprised Hiccup slightly because Jackson just didn’t seem the mischief-making type.

Hiccup suddenly stopped what he was doing and glanced back over at Jackson who just raised an eyebrow at him.

The Night Fury rider took that back, the Druid was definitely a mischief-maker. He was constantly telling stories to the children who would later reenact some of the scenes to their parents’ bewilderment. His father still had a little group of bodyguards at every feast to make sure his food wasn’t poisoned. The brunet had turned their Terrible Terror competition into a show and was able to trick Dagur into believing he was Jökul Frosti. To top it all off, Jackson was constantly bribing Toothless with fish to do things for him; which was why he was here in the first place, to find the wayward Night Fury.

So yeah, Hiccup concluded that Jackson Overland was very much a mischief-maker. Only he wasn’t the malice type. His mischief usually involved having fun or saving their lives. That, the Viking could live with.

“Secondly, I’m not pranking Finn,” the brunet continued and Hiccup opened his mouth, intending to point out the obvious contradiction. However, Astrid chose that moment to come running in.

“It worked!” the shieldmaiden said, not even looking in the son of the chief’s direction. He didn’t even think she noticed him since her eyes, sparkling with delight, were immediately drawn to Jackson.

“We’re pranking Finn,” the Druid finished, causing the shieldmaiden to look over and spot her friend for the first time. Her surprise at seeing him was evident on her face and she glanced at the brunet. They shared a look Hiccup couldn't decipher before Jackson just shrugged his shoulders causing the blonde's surprise look to transform into a thoughtful expression. With a brisk nod at the Druid, she turned her attention back to Hiccup.

“And Gobber,” Astrid said, folding her arms and leaning against Jackson’s workbench.

Now, Hiccup was just lost. “What?”

“We’re pranking Uncle Finn and Gobber,” the shieldmaiden informed him plainly as if they were talking about the weather and not Astrid pranking people. The mere idea that Astrid was pranking anyone was inconceivable. However, the slight grin across her face had the Night Fury rider knowing he hadn’t misheard or imagined the words coming from the Hofferson’s mouth.

Hiccup’s confusion hit a new level; serious to the core Astrid and fun-loving Jackson were pranking his mentor and Fearless Finn Hofferson. “Why would you even do that?”

“Because Gobber has been mooning over Uncle Finn since he got here, even before that from what Jackson has described to me,” Astrid explained, waving a hand carelessly about as if this was not a big deal. It really—really—was. “And I think it would do Uncle some good to have someone in his life. He moved into Mildew’s old hut for Týr’s sake. And we all know Mildew’s hut was built at the farthest possible point away from the village without actually leaving the village. That’s not healthy.”

“We’re just trying to move things along,” Jackson continued, grabbing the staff from his lap and hopping down off of the workbench to stand by the blonde shieldmaiden. The two shared a look and smiled brightly.

“So, you trapped some Terrible Terrors in Fearless Finn’s hut to what? Have Gobber come over to help him clear them out?” the Night Fury rider asked, still not getting the picture. “You know, there is an easier way to get them to be friends. Like inviting him to Gobber’s drinking nights with Mulch and Bucket.”

The auburn-haired teen was stunned when the normally stoic shieldmaiden literally slammed her forehead into her hand. That was something he usually did while she just rolled her eyes. The glare that came after had Hiccup rooted to the spot and reminded him that the Hoffersons had a great many notable warriors in their bloodline which had sent many of the tribe’s enemies retreating at the very sight of their blond hair, blue-eyed clan members.

“Hiccup,” Astrid said very slowly as if she was speaking to a child. “We are not trying to get them to be friends. We are trying to get Gobber to court my Uncle Finn because he has a giant crush on him and I think it would be beneficial for the both of them.”

“And I’m helping,” Jackson chimed in.

The revelation had green eyes widening to an impossible size as his head whipped back and forth between the two in front of him not knowing how to react. “You mean…Courting…as if…but…they’re… both guys.”

“So? You got a problem with that?” the shieldmaiden asked, her voice stiff with an ominous edge to it. Once more the blonde teenager crossed her arms over her chest. This time, when hard blue eyes had him rooted to the spot with a glare, there was nothing friendly about it. “Jackson doesn’t have a problem with that. Do you, Jackson?”

“No,” the Druid answered, sounding a little bewildered by the question and looking slightly confused at Astrid’s change in demeanor. “A couple of children from my home, Cupcake and Monty, have two fathers. Well, Cupcake has two fathers and Monty has two mothers. It’s fairly common from where I’m from.”

“See, he doesn’t have a problem with it. Do you have anything to say?” Astrid asked as she pulled the axe from her back and started to run a finger across the blade’s tip.

“Nope, I am good. Oh so good, thank you for asking,” Hiccup held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. He only felt safe enough to lower them when the axe was returned to its harness on the shieldmaiden’s back. A breath of air rushed out of his lungs as the tense atmosphere dissipated, yet he still needed to deal with the problem at hand. “But won’t people say…. things? I mean…it’s not norm—er… every day two men start courting.”

Blue eyes rolled as if the chief’s son was the one attempting to break the tribe’s social norms and not the other way around. “Hiccup, it’s Gobber, the chief’s left-hand man, and my Uncle, Fearless Finn Hofferson. If anyone had something to say, they would be extremely stupid. And brave, though they would be more stupid than anything. They would not only anger your father by insulting his best friend, but Uncle Finn and Da are some of the most feared warriors on Berk. Besides, we’re Vikings and we solve our differences with battle—”

“I prefer snowball fights myself,” Jackson added, though Hiccup didn’t think Astrid noticed as she talked right over the brunet.

“—and no one wants to battle a Hofferson over a matter of honor. No one,” the last part was said gravely while the shieldmaiden gave him an evil eye which had the hairs on the back of the Night Fury rider’s neck standing on end. Taking a gulp, Hiccup nodded his head to show he understood. A deep breath escaped him when the gesture appeared to appease Astrid who gave a brisk nod and let her arms fall to her side.

Vivid green eyes glanced at the shieldmaiden before darting over to Jackson. “Can I assume you’ve already roped Toothless into helping you?”

“Bribed him with a basket of fish to put the wild Terrible Terrors back into Finn’s hut from the roof every time Gobber or Finn gets one out. Stormfly and the Academy Terrible Terrors are helping too,” the Druid proclaimed proudly and Hiccup couldn’t stop himself from slumping at the triumphant grin on the blonde’s face.

It did not look like this was something that Astrid was going to be letting go of any time soon. That meant he was most likely going to be recruited in her matchmaking scheme she’d already roped both of his dragons, the other Academy members’ Terrible Terrors, and Jackson into.

Knowing when the battle was already lost before it even began, the chief’s son relented. “Fine, I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”

“Not really sure, I only had the one idea,” Astrid said, the grin on her face even larger at acquiring another collaborator in her growing scheme. However, it was the small pleased smile on Jackson’s face that had the auburn-haired teenager giving a weak smile of his own. “Although this would be so much easier if it were closer to Snoggletog, we could push them under the mistletoe.”

The brunet’s smile twitched downwards as his brows creased.

“What’s Snoggletog?” Both Vikings stopped and stared at the Druid who looked between the two when they gave him twin looks of disbelief. “What?”

“You don’t celebrate Snoggletog?” Astrid asked incredulously, brushing her bangs out of her eyes to look straight into those puzzled amber orbs.

“Since I don’t know what it is, I can safely say I don’t,” Jackson shrugged his shoulders, holding his unoccupied palm up. “So, what’s this Snoggletog?”

Seeing as the shieldmaiden was busy opening and closing her mouth with no words forming, Hiccup informed the foreigner about the holiday. “Snoggletog is our annual winter festival we celebrate in the days prior to the two weeks of Polar Night. There’s gifts, music, and lots of food as there is with any kind of festival but we decorate a few weeks before the actual day and build a large wooden tree in the middle of the village which is decorated with specially made shields. On the eve of Snoggletog, we leave out our helmets for Odin to fill with presents and there is a huge feast in the Great Hall on Snoggletog day.”

“Huh,” the Druid hummed, tilting his head to the side and twirling his staff around his fingers. “Sounds a lot like Christmas. Only stockings are hung by the hearth instead of leaving out helmets and Santa Claus is the one to bring gifts to the good little boys and girls on his nice list but coal for those on his naughty list.”

“Does that mean you celebrate Christmas instead of Snoggletog?” Astrid asked as she attempted to wrap her head around someone who didn’t celebrate Snoggletog. Hiccup knew it was hard for the shieldmaiden because Snoggletog was her favorite holiday and she couldn’t imagine someone not wanting to celebrate it who wasn’t Mildew.

“Well, kinda,” Jackson nervously scratched his cheek with one of his fingers. “I know someone who’s really into Christmas and I participate in the festivities when he’s finished with his holiday run. However, as a Druid, I celebrate Yuletide which is a twelve-day fire festival that starts on the Winter Solstice, the longest night and the shortest day of the year, where The Triple Goddess once again becomes the Great Mother and we celebrate the rebirth of the Sun.”

“How do you celebrate?” Hiccup asked, genuinely curious to hear more about the Druid's culture. After the brunet showed him how his traditions and beliefs were pertinent to Berk and the Creatures of Magic living on the island, he’d grown even more interested in Jackson’s customs.

The Druid appeared uncertain for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he bit his bottom lip. Amber eyes glazed over when the brunet froze, his hand squeezing around his staff and the two Dragon Riders shared a look. Hiccup feared he might have brought up bad memories. However, a moment later brown hair swayed back and forth when Jackson shook his head and a sad smile crossed his lip.

“Well, we too have trees for Yuletide but we hunt for them. When we find the perfect tree, it’s decorated and a candlelight vigil is set up around the tree to make sure twelve candles remain lit for all twelve days of Yule. That’s how the holiday was originally meant to be celebrated. But…but with it being only my mom, sister, and me, we never could carry on the old tradition. Wasn't safe to openly practice a pagan holiday anyhow," the Druid tacked on the last bit as if it were a trivial detail of little importance and not a matter of grave concern. "Instead, my family would light a candle each night and extinguish them come the twelfth night when the Yule log was lit.

“Oh, the Yule log!" Jackson's eyes lit up in excitement. "The Yule log was this ritual, you see. Where we placed white, red, and black candles on top of a log—usually a piece of pine or oak that couldn't be purchased, it had to be given; though my mother tended to collect them from the forest—and everyone attaches these pieces of paper—we were supposed to write our goals for the coming year on them—to the log. A High Priest or Priestess is then supposed to bless the hearth before lighting the log on fire,” the sad smile on Jackson’s face grew deeper as amber eyes looked down. There was a slight pause as he got his wavering voice under control before continuing on. “Usually, it was my mother who lit the log since there weren’t any High Priests and Priestess around, but during our last Yule together, she let me do it.

"Anyways," the brunet pushed on, "while the log is burning, everyone takes a drink from a chalice of wine—in our case, it was our nicest mug of cider—and when the log has been burned, the ashes are collected to make protective and healing charms out of.

“We also had to kiss under mistletoe too,” the Druid finished, rubbing his eyes with the back of his left arm and if Hiccup had seen any tears, he chose to ignore them.

“Sounds enjoyable,” Astrid awkwardly consoled him. She waited all of a few seconds before returning to their previous subject matter. “What’s also enjoyable is figuring out ways to get Gobber and Uncle Finn together.”

Glancing at Jackson, the chief’s son took the initiative to come up with an idea since the brunet didn’t appear to be in the right mindset. “Hmmm… maybe since Finn has been helping Gobber manage the forge while me and Jackson are busy, we could be busy more often?”

The suggestion was enough to bring the Druid out of his melancholy state and back into the conversation, shaking his head. “But now that Finn has a place of his own to stay, he might not feel obligated to help out. That and now that he has a field to tend to, he won’t have as much free time. Plus, he still plans to go hunting which will give him even less time.”

“How do you know that?” the shieldmaiden gave Jackson a curious look since she wasn’t aware of that.

Jackson made a nonchalant gesture. “He asked if I would skin and tan the hides of his kills since he needed the extra time to tend to the field. I told him I would if I was free. If not, I got Gruffnut to agree to do it in my place.”

“How did you manage that?” the chief’s son asked, knowing from his father that while Gruffnut was the best butcher and tanner in the village, he was also the most difficult to deal with. His father had trouble with the gruff Viking and when he was forced to deal with the man, he usually sent the Head of Berk’s Craft Guild in his place.

“Gruffnut heard about the Wyldfae from the twins and was curious, so I introduced him to a few Dewdrop Faeries. For some reason, he felt indebted to me for doing so,” the brunet answered with a shrug, looking unsure of the reason why Gruffnut felt the way he did and Hiccup wanted to bang his head against the workbench. The Druid still didn’t get that the Hairy Hooligan Tribe members weren’t used to the Wyldfae and with the rumors flying around about them after his father’s council saw them at their impromptu feast, everyone wanted to meet them.

“Getting off topic again,” Astrid pointed out and both Jackson and Hiccup had the decency to look sheepish.

“Why not set them up on a blind date?” Jackson asked which produced two strange expressions that had him looking to the heavens, muttering something in his native tongue before switching back. “We get them to agree to have dinner with us and then we excuse ourselves, leaving the two alone to eat a meal together; alone.”

Blue eyes widened as the shieldmaiden nodded her head vigorously. “That’s a great idea! Hiccup, you get Gobber to agree and I’ll get Uncle Finn to agree to host the meal up at his hut.”

“And what about me?” the brunet asked fiddling with the Night Fury scale attached to his staff.

There was a pause as Astrid glanced at him, her nose scrunching up before she made her decision with a decisive nod. “You’ll cook.”

“I should have known,” Jackson sighed but the small twitch of his lips upwards told the Night Fury rider he didn’t mind and was pleased that he was being included. Though, Hiccup’s own lips were drawn down when a potential dilemma cropped up in his mind.

“Just one question: how are we going to excuse ourselves without giving away what we are doing?”

The shieldmaiden didn’t even pause to give Hiccup’s concern any thought, just waved him off dismissively.

“I’m sure something will come up, it always does,” Astrid commented, not knowing how true her words would be. 


“Where’s Jackson?” Astrid fumed, pacing back and forth in front of Hiccup and their two dragons. The small group was waiting for the Druid near the halfway point between the Hoffersons’ home and Finn’s hut which was where Jackson was supposed to meet them after picking some fresh herbs and spices from the forest. Yet, he was late. Very late.

“He’ll be here,” Hiccup tried to calm the shieldmaiden down. Glancing down the beaten path for any sign of the brunet but coming up empty. “I saw some of the children following him into the forest earlier, they probably delayed him and he’ll be here any minute now.”

“He better, it took me forever to convince Uncle Finn to host a dinner party,” Astrid grumbled, rounding on the Night Fury rider and glaring at him for all she was worth.

Hiccup gulped and looked anywhere but at her in fear her eyes would somehow cause him physical harm. Coincidently, it was only because he was looking elsewhere that he saw the two dots erratically flying towards the village. Toothless’s ear-plates perked up and Stormfly chirped softly, both of the dragons tuning into something he couldn’t hear. As the dots came closer, he could faintly hear the distress wails of a Terrible Terror.

Squinting, he strained his eyes to see if there was anything chasing the two tiny yellow dragons but came up empty. “Isn’t that Head and Butt?”

The shieldmaiden turned and looked in the direction Hiccup was pointing. “I think it is. I wonder what they’re doing out here?”

Toothless growled before calling out to the two smaller dragons with a loud roar. The Terrible Terrors screeched back, looking around before spotting Toothless and Stormfly. They instantly changed directions, heading straight at them. As the two dragons came closer, the Dragon Riders could make out that it was indeed Head and Butt and within moments, the Terrible Terrors were upon them, literally. One, and Hiccup didn’t know which one, was pecking at his head, grabbing at his hair and tugging it while the other one did the same to Astrid.

“Hey! Stop that,” the auburn-haired teenager shouted, throwing his arms up to cover his head.

“Cut it out,” Astrid yelped as she shielded her head with one arm while waving the other around to swat at the yellow Terrible Terror.

Toothless and Stormfly jumped forth to protect their riders. The Deadly Nadder pivoting on her feet to smack the Terrible Terror out of the air with her tail but the little dragon dodged the attack and turned his attention to the larger dragon instead. Flying around the Sharp-class dragon’s head, his back claws grabbed hold of Stormfly’s horn and desperately attempted to pull the larger dragon back in the direction they had come from. Toothless was dealing with a similar situation with the yellow Terrible Terror’s twin flying around the Night Fury trying to get the black dragon to follow.

“Astrid, I think they want us to follow them,” Hiccup slowly spoke as the one dragon head-butted Toothless when he tried to go in the opposing direction, causing the Night Fury to growl at him. The Dragon Rider walked over to Toothless and placed a hand on him. “It’s okay Bud, calm down. Let’s go see what they want.”

“But,” the blonde started to protest, looking longingly in the direction of Finn’s hut before shaking her head and coming to the decision for herself. Mounting Stormfly, she looked pointedly at her leader. “Let’s get this over with; the sooner we’re done, the sooner we’ll get back.”

“Right,” the Head of the Academy agreed, swinging himself into the saddle. “You heard her Bud, let’s follow those Terrors.”

Head and Butt were already flying back the way they’d come, little wings beating as fast as they could, struggling to move faster than their wings could carry them. Stormfly and Toothless effortlessly kept up with the tiny dragons, going at a lazy pace. However, soon Toothless’s ear-plates went wild, twitching every which way before he suddenly banked to the left and sped up without any warning. Stormfly chirped out startled, but followed the Night Fury’s example, overtaking the Terrible Terrors.

Hiccup trusted his partner and allowed him to take the lead; searching in between the tree canopies below before he spotted a flash of blue in between the green. “There!”

Toothless grunted and made a sharp turn, weaving through the dense treetops to land.

“Hiccup,” Jackson—who must have heard them coming through the treetops—wearily greeted the Viking as the Druid shifted his arms, hiking Snuffnut further up onto his back.

The motion drew two pairs of green eyes to the little boy’s pale and sweat-stained face nestled into the crook of the brunet’s shoulder while his arms, wrapped weakly around the teenager’s neck, shook ever so slightly. Gustav stood next to Jackson, desperately trying to suppress his own coughs while supporting Terrorthi in a similar position to the Thorston on his back. The tiny girl looked just as bad, if not worse than Snuffnut.

Behind them stood three more boys all around Hiccup’s age. A redhead with a chainmail shirt and yak hide pants was leaning up against a blond with a light fur long-sleeved vest on top of a brown shirt and deerskin pants. The horns of their Viking helmets catching on each other as the two boys tried to help each other stand upright. As for the third boy, his brown hair underneath his helmet wasn’t plastered to his face like the others, but he was shivering uncontrollably, clutching the black bear fur vest closer to his body, effectively hiding his grey undershirt.

Hiccup recognized the three as Wartihog, Speedifist, and Clueless, respectively. They were a trio of troublemakers who forced those younger than them into doing their chores while they went off into the forest to taunt wild dragons. Something his father put a stop to when a few Gronckles nearly took out five huts and destroyed two sheep pens. There were also a few tales buzzing about, pertaining to them and a certain Druid, which just recently reached the Academy members and they weren’t too happy with the trio.

Upon seeing the Dragon Rider, Gustav’s feet gave out and he fell to his knees. “Thank Thor, you’re here, Hiccup.”

The chief’s son hurried to dismount Toothless and rushed to Gustav’s side, gently taking Terrorthi off the boy’s back, and cringed at the heat irradiating from Gothi’s niece. He looked over the group of teenagers behind the brunet as Jackson lowered himself to his knees and slipped Snuffnut off his back. “Jackson, what happened here?”

“I couldn’t find Speedifist this morning and he was supposed to help me with my chores. Snotlout made him promise he would help me and when he didn’t show up, I went looking for him at Wartihog and Clueless’s houses, I couldn’t find them either,” Gustav began rambling before the Druid could open his mouth, leaving Jackson the time to check on Snuffnut.

“Terrorthi and Snuffnut were keeping me company and playing with Head and Butt while I collected some spices,” Jackson spoke up, placing a hand against Snuffnut’s forehead, and grimaced at the heat radiating from the boy. “We were just heading back when Gustav found me and explained to me those three were missing. I got a few of the Dewdrop Faeries to help me locate them, but they were pretty far up in the mountains.”

“Clueless got lost again. We went to find him, but then we weren’t feeling so good,” Wartihog cut in, his voice slurred and almost too soft to hear.

“Yeah, feel no good. Then pretty lights found us and brought Jackson,” Speedifist agreed semi-coherently, swaying on his feet.

“We were in the process of heading back down the mountain when Snuffnut collapsed followed by Terrorthi,” Jackson took over as he pulled a cloth out of his back pouch and dabbed the sweat off of the blond’s brow. He pulled a few more out and handed them to Wartihog and Speedifist who hesitated before taking them from the boy they had mercilessly tormented. Amber eyes looked up to Hiccup with scared eyes. “I didn’t know what was going on. They all got sick so fast and suddenly and a few of the Wyldfae had to be escorted back to Pixie Hollow by Periwinkle and Silvermist because of exhaustion and I wasn’t sure what to do and then Head and Butt flew away, making matters worse.”

“They came to get us, Astrid should be arriving soon with them,” Hiccup said softly, laying a hand on the brunet’s shoulder to comfort him as vivid green eyes took in the symptoms the children were showing. “I think I know what we’re dealing with. It looks to be Eel Pox.”

Stormfly chose that moment to descend through the treetops to land next to Toothless. Her rider dismounted while both of them took in the scene around them. A bleak expression came over Astrid’s face as she looked over the sick children.

“What happened?”

“They seem to have contracted Eel Pox,” Hiccup informed her gravely. “We need to get everyone back to the village.” 

Notes:

Muhahaha, and now we figure out why Hiccup hasn't made a move on Jack. He hasn't even considered him an option, but now that Astrid is playing matchmaker with her uncle and Gobber (and I do hope you caught all the little hints there in previous chapters XP), he's going to start seeing the Druid a little differently.

Yuletide/Yule log traditions are not accurate, they're made up for this story using bits and pieces from various holidays.

The three teenage boys are actually from the game, I really didn't want to make up more OCs, but I need a few more people.

Chapter 36: The Effect of Prolong Exposure

Notes:

Ahhh, day late, but in my defense, this chapter was hard to write! Damn you Vikings *coughHiccupcough* with your stubbornness and lack of understanding feels.

On another, happier note, I am ecstatic you like the picture (I only wish I could draw that good T.T) and a lot of you guys' love for Finn/Gobber makes me glad I wrote that in. (I made a new ship! Fibber? Gobbinn?)

BlackMoonFantasy: Your review? I love it! I keep getting reviews asking where the HiJack is but to know there are people out there like you who'd read this even if Jack and Hiccup stayed just friends makes me feel good. But I swear there is HiJacks in this, it just keeps getting pushed further and further back because our boys are clueless (Jack more so than Hiccup).

Chapter Text

Jack groaned and tried to roll over only to stiffen. His whole body was sore and even the simplest movements caused discomfort if not outright pain. He felt like his blood was on fire yet he was freezing. There was a heavy weight on top of him, pinning him down, but it at least provided him a bit of warmth. The ex-spirit just couldn’t figure out how it got there. His attempt to open his eyes didn’t even get past a sliver of light before he slammed them shut again. Instead of dealing with the pain his body was in, Jack tried to recall what led up to him being here.

He remembered Gustav coming to him, worried about three missing teenagers and asking for help. The Dewdrop Faeries assisted Jack in locating the missing teenagers right around the same time Snuffnut’s sneezing turned into coughs. Then Terrorthi started to sneeze too and the immortal teenager was faced with the dilemma of either taking the younger two back to the village and leaving the teenagers out in the forest or continuing on with Snuffnut and Terrorthi regardless of their declining health.

Jack was forced to choose the second option when the winds pushed him forward insistently. Reaching the lost teenagers, he was glad he’d listened to the winds seeing how the missing trio was even sicker than the two little ones. The Druid was lucky enough that two of the Wyldfae he’d enlisted had a talent in healing and while they couldn’t cure the three boys from whatever was ailing them—they were only Dewdrop Faeries after all—they did restore the teenagers’ health to the point they could safely travel.

The ex-spirit just wished he’d the forethought to ask them to do the same for Terrorthi and Snuffnut if he’d known how quickly their condition would deteriorate. Instead, Jack insisted that Periwinkle and Silvermist escort the exhausted Elixa and Poppy back to Pixie Hollow to recover whilst he took the group of humans back to the village for treatment. They’d only gotten a quarter of the way back before Snuffnut collapsed and to further add to his troubles, Gustav started to cough as well.

Jack didn’t want to worry the children with how quickly the situation was deteriorating and instead shuffled the boy up onto his back. They continued on with the immortal teenager telling the historical tale of the Sisters of Flight to keep all of their minds occupied. When Terrorthi’s legs gave out, his anxiety spiked and he had hoped to get Head and Butt to get help—not knowing if they were trained like Sharpshot and Sneaky to deliver mail—but both dragons were gone.

He knew they needed to keep moving but there was no way Jack could carry both children. Before he could ask the older boys, Gustav had kneeled down and presented his back to the young shieldmaiden and the Druid remembered feeling so very proud of the boy in that instant. The young brunet not only alerted him to the missing teenagers but also helped Terrorthi even when he was clearly not feeling well himself.

Jack remembered they’d reached the halfway point back to the village when Hiccup and Astrid arrived. The two Dragon Riders took Terrorthi and Snuffnut back to Gothi while Jack stayed with the others. During which time Clueless’s cough grew rougher and a delirium set in that had the Viking seeing things that weren’t there. Thankfully, Hiccup returned not long later with the rest of the Dragon Riders to give them all a ride back.

From there, his memory got fuzzy. Jack vaguely remembered waking up leaning against the brown fur vest belonging to Hiccup when Toothless landed at the bottom of the stairs to the Great Hall. He couldn’t recall climbing the steps, but he did remember the Great Hall packed to the brim with adults suffering from the same illness, which shed some light on why Gustav was the one to notice the three missing boys and not their parents. The ex-spirit pushed himself to help an ailing Norbert cook some chicken soup for the sick while Astrid went to get Gothi.

There was another gap in his memory seeing as one moment he was helping Norbert in the Great Hall and the next he was collecting ingredients for a treatment to combat the illness on Healer's Island. A faint memory of someone mentioning eels eluded his grasp and then nothing; Jack couldn’t recall anything after that. The more he tried to remember the more his head hurt.

A brief image of being underwater flashed through his mind as he dug through his memories. The discombobulated impressions sent a jolt of fear down his spine that had him feeling even colder than before and triggered a full-body shudder. The fear abruptly turned to scorching pain as every nerve end seemingly caught fire. Jack attempted to curl into himself reflexively but only ended up whimpering as his body protested the action.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” a soothing voice hushed him as something warm pressed itself against his forehead. The brunet’s cloudy mind was unable to identify who it was, but the immortal teenager thought he should have known the person. “Calm down, we don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

None of the words mattered—or even made sense—to the Druid at the moment, all he cared about was the blessed warmth on his forehead. The warmth felt like heaven and Jack wanted it to stay. Forever. Despite his wishes though, the warmth was taken away and he found himself whimpering once more. He tried to reach out, but the heavy weight on top of him kept his weak arms trapped and it only seemed to get heavier.

Jack felt himself burrowing down under the extra weight, finding slight comfort in the new warmth it provided. It wasn’t the same as the previous warmth but it would do.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” the voice asked again and the Druid wanted to say no. He wanted the other warmth back too, but he couldn’t. He was already falling back into the blissfulness of sleep.


Hiccup finished setting the fur over the top of the three other blankets already piled over Jackson, yet he could still see the slender body shivering underneath. The brunet looked so small and fragile beneath the heavy furs; the darker colors contrasting greatly with his skin tone, revealing how pale he was. Brown hair was plastered to his forehead turning his locks almost a black color despite the teenaged Viking’s best efforts to soak up the excess perspiration with a damp cloth.

Despite all his efforts, the Druid’s fever refused to break even with the large dose of medication Gothi had managed to force down his throat. The guilt he’d managed to push back began to eat at Hiccup once more. He should have realized Jackson was sick. He should have paid more attention. But he was too focused on the Eel Pox epidemic spreading throughout Berk that he completely missed the signs right in front of his eyes.

Jackson had been quiet and sluggish while helping out in the Great Hall and yet he still came with them to Healer’s Island. The worst part was that the chief’s son then dragged the listless brunet to Eel Island to collect the last ingredient—a Bloodbane Eel—and ended up plunging them both into the icy cold ocean waters while trying to catch said eel. Toothless—the gods’ sent dragon that he was—managed to save them both. However, he ingested an eel in the process causing the dragon to flee for reasons unknown.  To top it all off, all the ingredients for the medication were still in said Night Fury’s saddlebag.

Stupidly, Hiccup listened to the self-sacrificing Druid when Jackson volunteered to stay behind and catch an eel while the Dragon Rider went after the distressed Night Fury. On the upside, the Head of the Academy ended up figuring out why most dragons wouldn't eat eels. It made them ill, violently so and it was only thanks to Fishlegs and Meatlug coming to Eel Island—in search of the long-overdue trio—that Hiccup was able to cure the rampaging Night Fury. Once Toothless was back to normal, they’d gone back for the brunet.

The chief’s son didn’t think he would ever forget when they'd found Jackson slumped against a tree. His complexion too pale, his body lacking any visible signs of life, and for a split-second Hiccup thought Máni had taken the Druid, leaving his body behind. Fishlegs even began to ask the question he wasn’t prepared to answer before a hitched shallow breath escaped Jackson and his body jerked, shivering underneath his soaked cloak. Regardless of his obvious illness, resting by Jackson’s side were three Bloodbane Eels.

“How’s he doing?” Gobber asked walking into the room, snapping the young Viking out of his memories. However, it took more willpower than the auburn-haired teen had to look away from the bed that Hiccup just didn’t. He was grateful Gobber offered his bed to the brunet since Jackson was in no condition to be sleeping in the small loft that he had claimed as his own.

“No change,” Hiccup answered, vivid green eyes finally flickering over to his mentor. His eyes were promptly drawn back over to the frail, shivering teenager and then to the base of the bed where Toothless was sound asleep, the eel having taken a lot out of him. Yet, the Night Fury wasn’t about to leave the brunet’s side either.

“Ah, don’t give up hope Hiccup, Jackson will pull through, he’s a strong lad,” Gobber threw his stone prosthetic around the young Viking’s shoulder. “Besides, Eel Pox has only ever killed young children… well, and the occasional old Viking, but who’s really counting? And… I’m not really helping, am I?”

Hiccup shot the blacksmith a strained smile, shook his head, and turned his attention back to the bed. “I know what Gothi said, Gobber. Fishlegs translated her writing for me.”

“Ah, I see,” Gobber heaved a sigh, taking his arm from around the boy’s shoulder and using it to rub the back of his head. His shoulders slumped down and if the Dragon Rider had made an attempt to catch his eyes, he would have failed. Not that he did. “I didn’t want to worry ya and like I said, Jackson’s a strong lad, he’ll pull through.”

“And yet, Gothi thinks he might not make it all because he wasn’t born in Berk,” Hiccup whispered, his fingers digging into the material of the fur as he leaned forward, ducking his head. The chair placed by the bedside gave a slight squeak under him at the movement. “Logically, I know it wasn’t my fault. Jackson would have come with us even if I had noticed he was sick. He wouldn’t have listened to me. But, I still feel guilty. I don’t even know why this is affecting me so much. Snotlout and the twins got really sick too.”

There was a stretch of silence as vivid green eyes continued to watch Jackson shift under the mountain of blankets and murmur something deliriously in his strange tongue.

“Hiccup, let’s go talk in the other room. We shouldn’t disturb Jackson,” Gobber motioned to the door with his head. When he didn’t get a response from Hiccup, the blond placed a hand on the teenager’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze prompting the boy to get up and follow him out of the room after a moment of hesitation.

Gobber guided him to the table where the stubborn teenager was forcefully pushed into one of the rickety chairs and left. While he waited, Hiccup leaned back in the chair to catch a glimpse of Jackson through the partially closed door. The desire to head back in was strong, especially when he heard the Druid whine. Before he could get to his feet to go and comfort Jackson, a loud thump had the Dragon Rider jerking his head back to the table to discover Gobber dropping a bowl of gruel in front of him.

“Eat, you haven’t eaten all day,” Gobber instructed, taking the seat across from Hiccup.

The auburn-haired youth stole one last glance through the door at Jackson and upon seeing that he had settled down, Hiccup picked up his spoon. The gruel was better than what they served in the Great Hall yet nowhere near as delicious as he was becoming used to thanks to the brunet regularly cooking for the Dragon Riders.   Regardless, he found himself inhaling the food not having realized how hungry he actually was until after his first bite.

“Hiccup,” Gobber started, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “You have always come to me with your problems instead of your father… well, mostly because your problems were concerning your father and making him proud of you, but it has given me the chance to watch you grow. To give you advice when you need it and tell you when you’re the one in the wrong. It has given me great pleasure to be your mentor and help raise you, knowing I’d never have any children of my own.”

Hiccup faintly smiled at the blacksmith, he had always seen Gobber as more of an uncle than his actual uncle, Spitelout. “I’ve felt the same about you Gobber, you’ve always been like an uncle to me. But, you still got time to have kids of your own. You’re not that old.”

“That’s not the reason, lad,” the blond shook his head—choosing to ignore the remark about his age—and took a deep breath. “I knew for a long time I would never have children of me own because women never held any interest for me. Men, on the other hand, they’re a different story.”

The teen felt his cheeks burn bright with embarrassment. Unsure how to tell his mentor he and Jackson were in the process of trying to set him up with Finn at Astrid’s insistence. Instead, he chose to glance elsewhere and found himself looking through the half-open door.

“Yer Dad already knows—has for a long time—and doesn’t care,” Gobber brought wide green eyes back to him with the last statement.

“Uh, that’s great?” Hiccup offered, surprised his father already knew the blacksmith’s preference in partners—when he didn’t even have a clue—and accepted it.

“I am only saying this because I’ve known you all your life, Hiccup. I watched as you grew into yourself. I witnessed you pining over Astrid for years and stumbling over yourself trying to get her attention. Now that you have her attention, you haven’t pursued her. Instead of courting her, you’ve become friends. Just friends. Nothing more.”

“Uh…” the teenager shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wishing more than ever to be back in the room with Jackson instead of stuck discussing his love life with Gobber.

“However, from day one you’ve been captivated by Jackson. Don’t give me that look, I knew exactly what you were doing when you tried to pull information about the lad from me when he first came to the village. I knew what you were doing and played along. You seemed genuinely interested in Jackson,” the blacksmith smiled fondly at the memory, missing Hiccup’s bright red blush. “For what ends, I didn’t know then, but I kept an eye out just in case. I’ve watched you with him.

“You come to the forge and immediately look for Jackson. When you see him, you perk up. When he’s not around, you tend to look like me Aunty Rose when another one of her husbands has disappeared. You jump at the chance to be around him and I’ve seen more of you over at me hut than ever before and don’t go saying it’s for his cooking, no matter how delightful it is. There is a whole list—an actual list—of things I’ve seen, but the point I’m trying to make is you like Jackson.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“Hiccup, don’t be obtuse, you like him more than a friend,” the older Viking gave his apprentice a pointed look, knowing the chief’s son was not slow by any definition of the word. “You feel for him the same as you thought you felt for Astrid.”

What?! No, no I don’t. We’re just good friends. Friends,” Hiccup denied, finding himself standing with his hands braced against the table and shaking his head vigorously.

“And you’ve sat by his bedside since we brought him here, haven’t even gone home to get a change of ye clothing,” Gobber continued on regardless of the stammered denial. “Because that’s what you do with just friends.” Hiccup thought sarcasm really didn’t suit the blacksmith. “And what of the twins? Hmmm, or maybe even your cousin? All of them have the Eel Pox, but I don’t see you waiting at their bedside and Snotlout needed a double dose after the nonsense he was going on about. The twins needed a triple. So why aren’t you with either of them, eh?  Or even Astrid?  She wasn’t looking too good the last time I saw her.”

“That’s not the same! They’re just sick, they’ll get over it. Jackson might die!” the teenager shot back slamming a fist down on the table, making the bowls and utensils rattle.

Gobber wasn’t shaken the least by the uncharacteristic outburst from his apprentice. War-weary eyes watched as Hiccup huffed, breathing heavily as he fought to regain his composure. Yet, vivid green eyes never left the older Viking, daring him to say anything else. A dare he would gladly take if it meant knocking some sense into that thick skull.

“Then Gothi would have been a better choice to watch over him if anything happened. You insisted she should go be with her niece and you’d take her place watching over Jackson,” the blond Viking countered with a calm, even tone.

“I…I…,” Hiccup stuttered as his earlier actions were thrown back in his face. Actions he couldn’t explain.  Even to himself.  That little revelation had the teen falling back into the chair behind him. He couldn’t justify his actions when he didn’t understand them himself. Slumping down further into his seat, Hiccup laid his head on the table with his arms curled around him.

“Hiccup, it’s alright to like Jackson,” the blacksmith gently reassured the boy, reaching across the table and patting him on the back. “There is nothing wrong with liking another man. There’s nothing to fear, your father won’t care. He’ll be happy as long as you’re happy.”

“I don’t know, Gobber,” Hiccup confessed into the table because—now that he was being honest with Gobber and himself—he really didn’t know how he felt about the Druid. He thought they were just friends, but looking over everything they’d gone through together and examining his feelings, he wasn’t so sure. The slightly taller teenager had given him more than one scare with his ridiculous stunts. On the other hand, he’d shown him such amazing things as well. “Even if I do like him—which I’m not saying I do, but if I did—how will the village react? I’m the son of the chief and one day I’ll be chief too, if I did start courting Jackson, what will that do to the village? I can’t be the first to be openly courting another male.”

“Hiccup, that’s all in the future. Don’t be so caught up in the might haves and might have-nots,” the blond snorted as he pulled the boy upright and tapped a finger over the Dragon Rider’s heart. “Follow your heart; it will lead you right.”

The teenager sat there before nodding his head numbly, not knowing what else to say. His mentor gave him a brighter smile and an exasperated shake of his head before picking up their dirty dishes to leave Hiccup to his thoughts. Well, as much as Gobber could leave him alone while still being in the same room as he cleaned their dishes while singing off-key. The auburn-haired teenager didn’t even mind, tuning the blacksmith out and looking towards the slightly opened door once more.

He could no longer see Jackson’s face, the Druid having rolled over onto his side during their talk, which only left the view of the back of his head. That alone had the Dragon Rider wanting to go in and check up on him. To make sure he was alright and still on Midgard, but at the same time, he couldn’t force his legs to move. He felt like he was on Toothless, high up in the sky doing a few of their more dangerous stunts only for his harness to snap, leaving him freefalling with no one around to catch him.

“And Hiccup,” Gobber broke the silence once more, setting down the bowl he’d been drying and bringing Hiccup’s attention back to him. The blacksmith turned around with a smile on his face that made him look years younger. “You won’t be the first one to be seen openly courting another male. That honor goes to me…well, me and Finn, but it’s all the same.”

Hiccup didn’t know how he ended up on the floor, but he found himself there staring at his mentor. “Wh—what?”

“Yeah,” the Viking forcefully laughed, scratching the back of his head with his prosthetic. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole village already knows by this time tomorrow. I kinda kissed him in front of the whole Great Hall while the fever from the Eel Pox didn’t have me thinking straight.”

“Yo—you kissed him in front of the whole Great Hall?” the teenager sputtered, eyes going impossibly wide as his mouth hung open without his consent. “What happened after that?”

“Kissing him full on the lips while I had flowers in my hair wasn’t as embarrassing as being told what I did, seeing as I have no recollection of doing so,” Gobber mourned the fact he couldn’t remember the first kiss he shared with the Hofferson. “Don’t really know what happened after that. But when Finn relayed the story to me after the delirium broke, I felt like a Whispering Death was about to come out of the ground and eat me. Glad it was only in my mind because then I wouldn’t have gotten the kiss he planted on me. There was some cheering from those present, the twins being the loudest and your father was shaking his head but the only negative thing to happen was Spitelout telling us to go back to our huts.”

“How did I miss this?” vivid green eyes blinked rapidly as he pulled himself to his feet and righted the overturned chair.

“You were too busy fretting over Jackson to notice much of anything else,” a meaningful look was directed at the young Viking.

Hiccup squirmed under the gaze but didn’t say anything. His mind was in too much turmoil. The chief’s son couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so conflicted. It was before the dragons had come to stay on Berk as allies, that was for sure, but that seemed so long ago now.

He was saved from having to say anything when Toothless’s roar reverberated out from the other room. The two Vikings froze before looking at each other and all but running to the adjacent room. Inside, they found Toothless sitting by the bed, whining softly as he attempted to calm the thrashing Druid. Jackson didn’t even seem to notice as he fought against the furs and blankets holding him down.

Hiccup ran to his side, gently pushing the Night Fury back and grabbing the brunet’s shoulders to hold him down. He almost recoiled at the heat the slim body was giving off, knowing for a fact it was way higher than it had been.

“Hush, Jackson, calm down. It’s going to be fine, we just need you to calm down,” the auburn-haired Viking spoke in a soothing voice, hoping his words got through to the Druid. He was startled when Jackson’s eyes flew open and for a brief moment, Hiccup thought they glowed but shoved it aside as a trick of the candlelight. Instead, he focused on the words coming from the feverish brunet. He frowned when he realized the Druid was speaking in his native tongue. “Jackson, calm down, shhh. It’s going to be alright.”

But Jackson didn’t calm down, his struggles becoming desperate. One of his hands broke free of the blankets and long fingers tangled themselves into Hiccup’s fur vest as he continued to speak feverishly in the strange language. However, there were a few words thrown in which he could understand. Mostly, he kept saying something about a storm and what sounded like Jökul Frosti but Hiccup couldn’t be sure. Finally, the Druid’s hold on his fur vest slackened as Gobber came back into the room carrying the last dose of medicine Gothi’d supplied them with. When he had left the room, Hiccup didn’t know, but he was glad someone was on top of things since he wasn’t.

Together, they worked to get Jackson to swallow a few mouthfuls. More seemed to end up running down the side of his face than they were able to get in him, but Gobber thought it was enough. Toothless nudged the brunet’s limp hand and his rider rubbed the dragon’s head to calm him down.

“You did good, Bud. Thank you for alerting us,” Hiccup said, following the blacksmith out of the room.

“I wonder what set him off? The lad was doing fine up until that point, it’s very particular,” Gobber murmured as he set the empty cup down on the counter.

“I don’t know, he kept saying something about a storm, but that was all I could understand,” the Dragon Rider shrugged a shoulder as he took a seat back at the table. With his back turned to Gobber, he didn’t notice the blond stiffening only to quickly hobble over to the window. The skies were clear and there was a light breeze, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Blast it, why did I have to leave Grump at the forge tonight of all nights? Hiccup, I want you to go tell your dad to prepare for a large storm. Possibly, a superstorm.”

“What? Why?” Hiccup questioned, getting right back up. “This isn’t like you knowing when it’s fire season, is it?”

“Not me, but Jackson. Finn’s mentioned the lad would predict when the storms were going to hit during Devastating Winter. He was always right and I fear he might have sensed another one coming our way now. It must be a large storm brewing to get through his fevered state,” Gobber answered, limping over to the other side of the house.

“But it could be the fever talking,” Hiccup argued, once more following the hobbling blacksmith.

“I don’t think it is,” Gobber shook his head and flung open the front door. He was just in time too, as a little blue ball of light came hurtling into the hut. Wildly zooming about before heading straight for the teenager, stopping an inch from his nose.

“Periwinkle?” Hiccup blinked at the little Dewdrop Faerie frantically waving tiny hands in all directions while chimes and rings pierced the air. Whatever she was attempting to communicate, which was apparently very important, was lost on the Dragon Rider. “Hey, hey, I can’t understand you and Jackson’s laid up right now.”

The blacksmith pushed his way forward, drawing Periwinkle’s attention to him. “There’s a storm coming, right? It’s a big one?”

The ball of light zipped up and down in confirmation as more chimes and high-pitched rings rent the air.

“Hiccup, alert your father about the incoming storm.”

“Right,” Hiccup answered back, already headed to the other room to collect Toothless.

Chapter 37: Notions for Expansions

Notes:

BlackMoonFantasy: I'm with you, Jack probably wouldn't believe it if Hiccup told him he liked him and Hiccup would've taken years to figure out his feelings for Jack if not for Gobber.

Night_Doctor: Thank you so much for the wonderful review. After the last couple of weeks I've had, it was something good and it cheered me up. So, thank you for loving Druid Jack and mentioning how seamlessly he fits into Berk because that's how I wanted it to come off.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Get those yaks into the barn!” Stoick did his best to yell above the howling winds. Most of his words were drowned out by a sudden gale but Silent Sven heard enough to follow the chief’s hand gesture and rushed to grab the fleeing animals. Satisfied things were in hand in this area, the chief tugged on Thornado’s reins to move on and see to the rest of the village. Immediately, he spotted the longboats crashing against the docks while the waves swelled higher. “Someone, tighten the ropes on those longboats before they get washed out to sea.”

“Chief!” the shout had Stoick peering down at the blonde dot below which was Berk Guard’s commander, Huffnut Thorston. Flying closer, Thornado landed near the shieldmaiden. “Two of my scouts are missing along with three children. I’ve sent two more of my men out to look for them, but they haven’t reported back yet.”

“Alright, have Binn Hofferson take a small party to search for them. He’s the best tracker we have,” the chief ordered, green eyes drawn back to the ocean where the boats still hadn’t been secured.

“Sir, may I suggest his daughter, Astrid, be a part of the search party along with her dragon? An aerial search will reduce the amount of time,” Huffnut requested, her voice rising to be heard above the winds as they picked up once more.

He took a moment to mull it over before reluctantly nodding. “Have Snotlout and his dragon go along as well. I don’t want Astrid out there alone.”

“Yes sir,” Berk Guard’s commander bowed and left with haste to fulfill his commands while the Thunderdrum and his rider returned to the air.

Stoick cursed upon spotting one of the longboats being swept out to sea, his earlier warning went unheard, and he quickly gave chase. The winds hindered his sight as Thornado sped mere feet above the crashing waves, seawater whipping up and brutally slapping his face.

Reaching the longboat turned out to be the easiest part, figuring out how to get the boat back to shore proved to be the difficult bit. Landing Thornado on the deck, Stoick searched for a rope to tow the boat back to shore. For the most part, the deck had been cleared and the valuables had already been unloaded. However, a frayed piece of rope showed just how the longboat had gotten loose and it wasn’t due to negligence but a snapped line. A second rope tied to the bow hung overboard which he figured he could use to tow the boat in with.

The deck lurched under him.

“What the—?” the chief held back the curse, fighting to keep his feet under him.

Staggering to the railing, Stoick held fast. It was only when he peered over at the waves crashing against the side of the boat that he realized the longboat was moving against the tides. The slacken rope he planned to use to tow the boat with was pulled taut as something under the water yanked at the other end. Fearing the worst, Stoick rushed to Thornado, throwing himself in the saddle and urging the dragon into the air. There he easily spotted a dark shape below the ocean’s surface.

A great eruption had water spraying everywhere as a fully grown Scauldron’s head broke the surface. The other end of the rope held fast in the Tidal-class dragon’s mouth as it pulled the longboat towards the dock where Mulch was waiting. It didn’t take much for Thornado to navigate the harsher winds around the docks to land near the fisherman as the Scauldron tenderly handed the line to the awaiting fisherman.

“Nice catch, Scauldy,” Mulch praised the blue dragon, patting the Scauldron’s head as it let out a blissful grumble.

“Need any help here?” Stoick asked the other Viking, dismounting Thornado to walk over to Mulch’s side. All the while keeping an eye on the new dragon.

Mulch, having not noticed the chief landing behind him, jumped with a sharp yelp. His hand releasing his grip on the rope of the longboat which sunk into the raging waters below. The Scauldron dove back under the water, its dark shadow disappearing into the depths.

“Chief!” the shorter Viking gasped, holding a hook over his heart. “You scared me. I uh…we’re almost all set here…just the one boat to secure.”

The Tidal-class dragon resurfaced with the rope once again and nudged Mulch in the back, gurgling slightly to get his attention.

“I see you got more help around here,” Stoick commented drily, raising an eyebrow as he took in the giant blue dragon.

“Yeah, Scauldy’s been a big help and Bucket just loves her. Yer boy was gracious enough to give her to us. Made things a lot more easy when we’re out at sea. No more getting lost,” the fisherman prattled on, taking the rope from the dragon and working it into a complicated knot on one of the dock’s posts. He made sure to pull it extra tight, keeping the boat from bashing against the dock while ensuring it wouldn’t be pulled out to sea again. He then began to double-check the rest of the longboats’ ropes while Scauldy swam around the other side of the boats, giving them her own inspection.

“And how’s Bucket?” the chief inquired, filing away the bit about Hiccup giving a Tidal-class dragon to his fisherman for later. Now was not the time to question his son about the dragon’s origins, not when a storm warning was in effect and the winds were becoming violent.

“Hurting, his bucket is getting tighter by the minute. It’s going to be a bad storm,” Mulch let out a heavy sigh, finishing his inspection. Jerking his head towards the end of the docks where a naturally occurring alcove was carved into the cliffs, a lone cart sat in the area reserved for storing cargo. “He’s right over here.”

The chief strolled over to the alcove with Thornado on his heels and sure enough, Bucket was leaning up against the side of the cart closest to the cliffs, clawing at the bucket on his head. However, it was what was inside the cart that had Stoick raising one bushy red eyebrow. Piled high with various furs and blankets, a cocooned brunet dozed with his arms wrapped around Sharpshot while one hand held his ever-present staff even in his sleep.

“Jackson? Why is he with you? I thought he was staying at Gobber’s during his recovery,” Stoick turned to face Mulch, surprise seeping into his words while red eyebrows scrunched together in disapproval. The shorter Viking worriedly glanced over at the Druid before his eyes snapped back to his chief.

“Ah… well…. ya see chief… Gobber had to go to Finn’s hut to ah… help and see if there was any way to save the crops and took the twins with him,” Mulch stuttered, nervously rubbing his head. “He um… asked me and Bucket to watch Jackson until Hiccup and Fishlegs got back from making sure Gothi’s hut was secure and bring her down to stay with her brother. I…uh…we agreed, but then Norbert started yelling about the boats and…uh…Bucket and I brought him here?

“He was fine with it!” the fisherman blurted out in defense of their actions. “Jackson told us we should help, encouraged us even, and he would be fine by himself, but… ah… I couldn’t leave him there. It was Bucket’s idea to bring along the cart for him to ride in. Bucket always loves cart rides even when he’s sick, so it seemed like a good idea. But then Bucket’s bucket got too tight, and Jackson kept him preoccupied with stories until the lad just fell asleep. I tried to hurry and get the boats secure, but then—”

“Mulch, you did the right thing. We would have lost many of our longboats if not for your and Bucket’s quick thinking,” the chief assured the nervous Viking. “But now is the time to get them both back inside and out of this weather, understand?”

“Yes chief,” Mulch let out a sigh of relief, nodding his head wholeheartedly, not wanting to disappoint the chief anymore.

“Good, get Bucket into the cart and take him inside,” Stoick instructed, picking up the tiny teenager—blankets and all—with no trouble. “I’ll take Jackson back to my hut and have Hiccup look after him when he gets back.”

“You sure chief? I can take care of the both of them,” the shorter Viking asked, still slightly on edge.

“I’m sure, don’t make me make that an order,” the chief chuckled, shifting the boy into a more comfortable position in his arms.

“Uh, yes, right away sir. I mean, will do chief,” Mulch jumped into action, helping Bucket to his feet and leading him to the back of the cart.

“Come along Thornado,” Stoick called out as he began to walk up the numerous gangplanks to the village above. As he reached the turn in the path, he looked over to see Mulch giving the Scauldron—Scauldy he reminded himself—a large fish before sending her back into the sea while Bucket waved to the Tidal-class dragon with the hand not currently clutched to his bucket. “Hiccup, you’ve been holding out on me. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Hiccup,” Jackson mumbled softly causing the chief to look down and find the boy was still asleep. He murmured something more, but it wasn’t anything the Viking understood before the child settled down, hugging Sharpshot closer to his chest. The green Terrible Terror opened one eye and looked around. Seeing Stoick, the tiny dragon let out a yawn before snuggling his head under the brunet’s chin and going back to sleep.

“And not just about the Scauldron either,” the father muttered as he trekked the rest of the way up the path to the village.

Stoick was slightly surprised to already see a Deadly Nadder and Monstrous Nightmare making their way into the village. However, a closer inspection revealed them to be the two dragons Hiccup and Astrid had liberated from Outcast Island months ago: Flystorm and Firefang. Even from this distance, he could see the children on their backs with a few little balls of light circling around them. Puffnut was presently having a few men clear a spot for the dragons to land before helping the children dismount the large creatures.

“Spitelout!” the chief shouted, spotting his brother-in-law. The Jorgenson turned upon hearing his name, momentarily stalling the yelling match he was having with Puffnut—which was probably in the man’s best interest since Puffnut was known for her temper—and didn’t quite glare at him, but it was a close thing.

“Yes Stoick?” the dark-haired Viking asked in displeasure.

“You’re in charge of making sure the preparations are complete. Puffnut, please make sure that everyone is in their huts or the Great Hall if need be.”

“Getting too old to finish your duties?” Spitelout sneered under his breath, but not quietly enough. Stoick rolled his eyes and ignored the comment, especially when Puffnut accidentally jabbed his brother-in-law in the side with her mace strapped to her hip when she bowed.

“Right away chief,” Puffnut said standing straight, taking great pleasure when her mace struck Spitelout for a second time.

“Also, Spitelout, if you see my son, let him know I’m looking for him,” Stoick called out as he walked away. He thought about stopping at the Academy to put Thornado into one of the stalls for the night but figured if it got too cold for the dragon, the Thunderdrum could sleep inside instead of his preferred spot out behind the Haddock hut.

Once home, the chief looked around the bottom floor of the hut and frowned. There was no real room for the brunet to sleep down here and his room was currently filled to the brim with battle plans and tactics scattered in the open—not that he didn’t trust the boy, but only his council and him were privy to those documents—which left him heading upstairs to place Jackson into Hiccup’s bed.

Other arrangements would have to be made later, but for now, the boy would sleep better on a comfortable bed and away from any noise which was no doubt to come when villagers would come seeking guidance. He left Spitelout in charge after all. There were going to be complaints. Many complaints.

“Keep him warm,” Stoick told the Terrible Terror who chirped in response and let out a fireball that lit the lantern Hiccup kept beside his bed. Nodding his head, the chief went downstairs and did busy work until the complaints started coming.

He didn’t have to wait long for there to be a knock at the door. “Come in!”

“Sir,” Huffnut bowed to the chief after closing the door behind her.

“Huffnut,” Stoick greeted, grabbing a flagon along with two cups which he placed on the table. Pouring the contents of the flagon into the cups, he pushed one forward. “Here.”

“Thank you chief,” the Thorston acknowledged with a nod of her head, picking up the drink and taking a swig of the sweet mead.

“Your search went well?” the chief asked, taking the other cup and gulping it down in one go. The liquid burned on its way down but the sweetness more than made up for it. Heating him up from the inside and fighting off the chill that the winds brought with them.

“It was the fastest search and rescue mission I’ve ever been on,” the Commander of the Berk Guard said, finishing off her mead and setting the cup back on the table. “I was able to track down Binn, and both he and his daughter were agreeable to help. Astrid retrieved the young Jorgenson and his dragon and Binn elected to go along with him while I rode with Astrid on her dragon.

“Chief, I will admit I was hesitant,” Huffnut looked Stoick straight in the eyes and after a moment, he tipped his head in understanding. He remembered when he first started riding Thornado. After being taught to kill dragons since childhood, it was rather disconcerting to be putting his life in the hands of a dragon. Regardless, flying with the Thunderdrum had put all those lingering worries about the fire-breathing beasts behind him.

“However, the dragon was a huge asset in the search and rescue mission. We were able to find the children easily from the air; they had been rounding up a few of the wild dragons that lived around the village like an escaped herd of yaks. Astrid was able to use the dragons the children had collected to send them back while we continued to search for my missing men,” the commander reported in a brisk manner.

“I saw them arriving on Flystorm and Firefang,” Stoick nodded, filling both cups back up and handing the full cup back to the blonde shieldmaiden.

“Yes, they were quite useful in that aspect as well,” Huffnut smiled, taking the offered cup. “Back to my missing scouts, I thought it would have been more of a challenge to find them which wasn’t the case. Astrid had the Deadly Nadder track the men by the scent of the metal they carried. It only took a moment before we were flying towards the mountains where we found the two scouts seeking shelter in one of the caves. We actually spent more time trying to fit all four of us onto the Deadly Nadder’s back than actually finding the scouts.

“Binn and the young Jorgenson were just as successful in finding the other group of missing scouts. Although, from what I gathered, it was more due to Binn’s tracking abilities than the Monstrous Nightmare. Currently, all of my men are accounted for and are helping fortify the village for the upcoming storm,” Huffnut finished her report along with the second cup of mead.

“Good work Commander,” the chief praised. When she didn’t immediately bow and leave as she normally did, the Viking raised an eyebrow which was all the prompting she needed.

“Sir, I would like to request Astrid and her dragon join the Berk Guard, her skills would be a valuable asset,” the Thorston requested, her features not once changing even when his frown deepened.

As a chief, he could understand where the Commander of the Berk Guard was coming from and the merits of having the young Hofferson join the Guard would be well worth her joining despite her young age. As a father, he wanted to keep her as far from the frontlines as possible, even though she and the rest of the Dragon Riders ended up there anyways seeing how they were the only ones who could match the dangers out there with their dragons. However, Stoick just wanted them to have a bit more of a childhood before forcing them into the complex and unforgiving life of an adult.

At the rate they were going, it would be his son and his chosen council which would be Berk’s only hope and not any of the older generation, including him.

“I’ll think about it, for now, you’re dismissed, Huffnut,” Stoick waved the commander off, emptying the flagon into his cup, and finishing the mead off with one large gulp. Huffnut stayed a beat longer, gearing up as if she was going to protest his decision. Yet, she held her tongue and gave the chief a bow before exiting the hut. Sighing, the father of the Hero of Berk got up and cleaned the two cups before a soft tentative knock had him calling out for whoever it was to come in.

When no answer came, he turned around to see three children—even younger than his boy—standing near the door, looking very unsure of themselves. Putting on his best presentable smile which wouldn’t frighten the children, he motioned for them to come in further. The two boys looked at each other, but it was the little girl who took the first step with the others quickly following after her.

“Uh, chief, sir?” the girl spoke up, looking over at both of the boys on either side of her for support. “I… uh… I mean, we were wondering if… uh—”

“Could we use some of the stables down at the Dragon Academy, please?” the boy to the girl’s left cut her off, spewing out their question. It took Stoick a moment to decipher what was said with how fast the child rattled off the request, but when he did, he really looked over the trio of children. His eyebrows almost shot into his hairline when he noticed the two yellow Terrible Terrors—one cuddled in the blond boy’s arms and the other clutching to the back of his tunic—and the dirty clothing they each wore. The girl, on the other hand, had two balls of light barely hidden by her clothing and messy hair while the last one had what looked to be Snotlout’s old helmet.

“I take it you three were the children Commander Huffnut went looking for?” Stoick asked, causing the three to freeze and the two boys to share a look of fear.

“Um, no sir… I mean, yes sir… Well, it wasn’t me Aunt Huffnut—,” the boy with the Terrible Terrors started again, stumbling over his words. Although, it did clue him in on the identity of the boy: Snuffnut Fierce. “Ummm.”

“Sir, he wasn’t a part of that. It was me and Gustav who Astrid had to rescue,” the tiny girl in the middle spoke up. Causing Stoick to look at the child, it took him a moment to place her, but he soon recognized the lass as Gothi’s niece.

The chief turned his attention from Snuffnut and towards the two other children, noticing they shrunk underneath his hard stare. “And what made the two of you run off during this horrible weather when we’re all preparing for the upcoming storm?”

“We were trying to help!” Gustav defended, crossing his arms over his chest in such a way it reminded the older Viking of his nephew. “Da told me to make ourselves useful and everyone had already gotten the other animals. We thought we’d round up the other dragons since Snotlout and the rest of the Dragon Riders were busy.”

“We were also helping some of the Wyldfae,” Terrorthi piped up, “Jackson always said it’s good to help the Wyldfae because they’ll help us in return when we need it.”

A small chime of agreement came from inside of the girl’s clothes.

“We aren’t in trouble, are we?” Gustav asked, shifting from foot to foot and looking over to his partners in crime.

Taking a deep breath, Stoick shook his head; clearly, the children had only been doing what they had thought was right. “This time? No. Next time you tell someone where you’re going or take an adult with you. If not, you’ll wish I had gone easy on you. Got it?”

“Yessir,” the three answered immediately, shaking their heads as both Terrible Terrors nodded their heads too and chimes of agreement came from inside Terrorthi’s clothes.

“Good, now go home and stay there,” the chief pointed towards the door. However, none of them made a move for the door and Stoick found himself once more raising an eyebrow.

The three looked at each other before Snuffnut spoke up once more. “Uh, chief, sir. Can we put Flystorm, Firefang, and the other dragons into some of the dragon stalls before we head home?”

Sighing, he prayed to Odin to give him strength. “Yes, but you go right home after they’re in the stalls; understood?”

“Understood,” the trio answered as one, each of them bowing to the chief before scampering to the door. They rushed out the door and passed Puffnut as she held up her hand to knock, which Stoick wasn’t sure if he could have heard over the growling howls of the wind.

“Hi Mom, bye Mom,” Snuffnut called out as he hastily made his retreat.

Nodding to the stunned woman, Stoick motioned for her to come in and close the door behind her. “What has Spitelout done now?”

The chief was glad that for once it wasn’t his brother-in-law that was the problem, this time. Apparently, half of Dogsbreath the Duhbrain’s hut had caved in due to disrepair and he wouldn’t leave his house even though it wasn’t safe for the upcoming storm. The Viking had cited it was a season too early for such a storm and he wasn’t moving because of some hocus-pocus prediction from a charlatan. It didn’t matter to him that Gothi had even predicted the storm herself, it only mattered to him that an outsider—and a boy at that—had predicted the storm first.

“Have Camicazi take care of him,” Stoick offered, knowing Dogsbreath would listen to her or get his ass handed to him. Puffnut nodded and opened the door to leave, allowing another two Vikings to enter. The rest of the evening continued the same and whenever he had a moment to himself, he’d check on Jackson before being called away again. On his third visit, he had found the brunet awake and looking around the room but had only enough time to give him a quick rundown on what the boy had missed before there was another round of knocks at his door.

It was only a little after Piglegs left that his son finally made it back.

“Hi Dad, Spitelout said you were looking for me?” Hiccup spoke once the Ingerman matriarch marched out of the hut. He was in the process of closing the door when Thornado pushed his way through, and the auburn-haired teen quickly opened it to accommodate the Thunderdrum. Toothless looked up from where he was sniffing the floor—most likely in search of food—and gave a low warble of greeting before going back to his search.

“Yes, it seems like this storm has brought to my attention how necessary your Dragon Riders are,” Stoick began as he worked to prepare supper for the evening. It was well into the night by now and he was starved; no doubt his teenage son and Jackson would be as well.

“How so?” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy inquired, already pulling a large basket from the corner and dragging it out. He took the lid off and proceeded to spill the contents of fish on the ground for the two dragons. Neither wasted any time before devouring their meal.

“As you probably heard, Piglegs was praising Iggy the Terrible Terror for helping round up all the chickens and wanted the Dragon Academy to train more dragons like Iggy for her benefit. My commander was impressed with Astrid and Stormfly’s ability to track down missing members of the Guard and wanted the two to join her ranks despite her age. Not to mention, Mulch and Bucket have been using a Scauldron, Scauldy, to assist them in their workload. A dragon, which I was told, was given to them by you,” Stoick said, leaving the food to cook for a moment and turning an accusing eye on his son. “Care to explain the last one?”

“Technically, Jackson gave Scauldy to Mulch and Bucket. I just gave them a few lessons on how to handle her,” Hiccup corrected and his father knew he wasn’t trying to place the blame elsewhere but stating the facts. Though how Jackson got a Scauldron to give to his fishermen did raise a few more questions.

“And why did Jackson give a Scauldron to my fishermen?” Stoick turned back to the food and rotated the spit to keep the chicken from burning.

“She kinda followed us home after we saved her from Changewings during that search for the Screaming Death. Jackson remembered how Bucket wanted a dragon of his own from the Skrill incident and she is a Tidal-class dragon, so I didn’t see any harm in allowing some of the best fishermen in Berk to keep her,” Hiccup shrugged as he sat down at the table.

His father took the food off the flames and began cutting the chicken into pieces, placing them on three different plates. “And what of the dragons liberated from Outcast Island?”

“Uhm, are you referring to Flystorm and Firefang?” the teenager questioned and his father gave him an affirmative nod. “Astrid and I have trained them somewhat. They’ve been helping patrol the perimeter of the village.”

“And what do you plan to do with them?” Stoick pushed further, carrying two of the three plates to the table.

“I haven’t given the dragons out to anyone, if that’s what you’re asking,” Hiccup assured him, picking up a chicken leg and began eating it faster than normal.

“No, but that’s what I’m going to ask you to do,” the chief answered, not bothering to sit down yet. He got great pleasure out of watching his son nearly drop his chicken leg into his lap, coughing a few times to clear his throat.

“What?” the Dragon Rider fumbled to catch his food, putting it back on his plate as vivid green eyes—so much like his mother’s—looked up upon hearing his father’s announcement.

“I want you to expand the Academy. Give lessons to other Vikings every few days,” Stoick clarified to his gaping son. “I know Gobber really hasn’t mastered flying Grump and I would feel better if Mulch and Bucket had more lessons to take care of their Scauldron. It wouldn’t hurt if Commander Huffnut joined the lessons, it would be better for Berk if the Guard's commander had a dragon of her own. Flystorm would be a good match for her. There are a few others who would also benefit from having a dragon as well.”

“Umm,” the Head of the Academy opened and closed his mouth, clearly not knowing what to say.

Hiccup remembered the self-appointed labor-intensive mission to get his father on a dragon, but he never thought about getting any of the other older Vikings on dragons as well. They were too set in their ways and now his father was pushing for him to get more of their people on dragons? It was too surreal.

“Don’t worry. I’ll set things up, you just have your Dragon Riders ready to start training,” Stoick finalized, sitting down to eat his own meal before it got too cold.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” the teenager numbly nodded his head and went back to his own dinner. Only when he finished the little that remained of his chicken did vivid green eyes turn back towards his father. “Um, Dad? For now, me and Toothless are gonna go to Gobber’s. To, ya know, make some plans for expanding the Academy.”

The chief nodded, but couldn’t keep from glancing at the third plate, a small smile forming on his lips. “Mm’kay, but before you go, could ya take that plate upstairs to Jackson? He’s sure to be hungry by now.”

It was amusing to watch Hiccup’s head whip towards his father, looking at him as if he hadn’t seen the man in years. “What?”

“Gobber went to Finn’s hut to see if there was a way to save his crops. I’m not sure if he’s gotten back yet, but you can always try. If he is there and the storm gets worse, stay over there until it passes. It might be better that way because Jackson’s currently using your bed,” Stoick explained nonchalantly despite his eyes being focused on his son, observing the teenager’s reaction.

Hiccup, for the most part, was rendered dazed for a split-second. “Wh—why is Jackson here?”

“Gobber asked Mulch and Bucket to watch over Jackson while he was gone. Though Mulch had his hands full with Bucket’s bucket getting too tight, so I took over. I was hoping to have you keep him company during the night but I can still look after him if you want to go over to Gobber’s,” Stoick waved off as if it was no big deal that the chief was taking care of the teenaged foreigner who—technically—wasn’t a member of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.

“N—no, I’ll help. It’s no big deal, Gobber can wait until later. He’s probably still busy anyways with Finn… uh… helping him that is,” Hiccup rambled on before snapping his mouth shut.

“If you’re sure, I don’t mind,” the Viking grinned at his boy’s flustered state.

“No, I’ll stay with him. You should get some rest, Dad. It’s been a long day, I can handle Jackson,” Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning bright red. Sadly, the auburn-haired teenager hid the blush, ducking his head and grabbing the plate of food before making a hurried retreat up to his room, Toothless right on his heels.

“Definitely need to talk to Hiccup,” Stoick said to Thornado as they both listened to Jackson’s loud greeting echoing down followed by his son’s stuttered reply. “Just not tonight.”

Notes:

Stoick isn't as obvious as everyone thinks him to be. :) He is the chief after all.

Chapter 38: The Stuff of Dragon Riders

Notes:

I would like to say, I outlined this chapter way before Astrid's Team from Race to the Edge series. Hence that comment so long ago where I was bemoaning the fact my idea was actually used in the series. I wanted something original but then, they had to go and do it in the show. Oh, well, at least these Dragon Trainees are slightly different than the show and my OCs are back.

Is it just me, or does everyone like Gobber's and Stoick's reaction to Hiccup's crush? I was afraid people wouldn't find it believable, but no one said anything. (Not that I'm complaining, I was just surprised.)

YourKitchenCabinetsGhost: No, no Hiccup can't handle any form of crush, just look at him in the first movie/beginning of the series regarding Astrid. XP

Mihas: You'll just have to wait and see what happens. I'm not about to reveal how Hiccup will make a move or Jack's reaction, because that's telling. You're getting no spoilers from me.

P.S. I do not like the save without posting button right now, because I didn't realize I pushed that on Friday night until now.

Chapter Text

“Uh, welcome to the Dragon Training Academy,” Hiccup spoke to the group of Vikings in a semicircle in front of him without stumbling over his words which was a miracle. When his father had said he’d get a few people together for Dragon Training, he hadn’t thought there would be so many. Thankfully, he had the rest of the Dragon Riders at his back, ready to aid him in teaching the new candidates for their Academy. “This Academy was born out of timing and necessity—”

“I thought Stoick gave it to us and said it was ‘just some Dragon Training Academy’,” Tuffnut interrupted from behind the auburn-haired Dragon Rider. He didn’t need to turn to see Astrid elbowing the blond Viking in the side to know it happened. Not when he heard Tuffnut’s grunt and Ruffnut’s giggles, Hiccup could envision what transpired behind his back with perfect clarity from the countless occasions something similar occurred.

“Not helping,” the Head of the Dragon Academy growled out under his breath, loud enough for those behind him to hear. Focusing his attention back on the Vikings before him, Hiccup addressed them, only a tad bit nervous. “I know we've been stuck inside for four days straight because of this crazy weather and my father—uh, the chief that is—thought it would be best if we began the lessons now before we all started to go a little nuts. Before we begin, are there any questions?”

One of the Vikings in the back raised a hook and Hiccup encouraged the man to speak up.

“How is the weather not touching us in here?” the dark-haired Viking asked, pointing his appendage at the dome of the arena. Normally, the snow would have been falling through the chain dome frame and piling high on the ground while the winds would be whipping about, bringing an even colder chill with them. However, looking up, one could see snow piled high over the otherwise open structure.

“Some Wyldfae made a temporary barrier using the dome as an anchor for the spell to keep the weather at bay for a few minutes. The dragons then melted the snow collected on top of the barrier which was frozen by the winds into a structurally sound dome of ice that’s currently keeping the elements out,” Jackson spoke up from where he was tucked away on top of a stack of wooden crates. His explanation ended with a sneeze and him pulling the furs wrapped around him closer to his body in an attempt to stave off his shivers.

“What?” the villager asked, brows knitting together and he almost stuck his hook through his ear when he attempted to scratch the side of his head.

Sighing, the Druid shook his head. “Jökul Frosti did it.”

“Oh… okay! Why didn’t you just say so?” the dark-haired Viking seemed to be appeased Jökul Frosti was the culprit.

Glancing one last time at Jackson, vivid green eyes turned to his mentor. “Uh, right… okay… so since a few of you have your own dragons already, we’ll start there. Gobber.”

“Right,” the blacksmith took a step forward and motioned to the unmoving lump of dragon flesh left behind. “This is me dragon, Grump, he’s a Hotburple, not to mention lazy. But he’s good for helping me find new ore veins around Berk and keeping the forge lit.”

“Uh,” Hiccup coughed slightly to cover up the snort that escaped. “Thank you Gobber, for that rather enlightening introduction. Ne—”

“Oh, oh, me next! Me next!” Bucket interrupted excitedly, waving his arms around erratically. Hiccup—after a second of hesitation—nodded to the fisherman who beamed brightly and directed everyone’s attention to the large Tidal-class dragon near the back of the arena. “That is Scauldy, the Scauldron. She helps me and Mulch by scaring fish into our nets and she pulls our boat when there are no winds and she plays ball with me. She also really likes cooked cod.”

“That was a great intro Bucket, thank you. Now for those who do not have dragons, we are going to practice with some Terrible Terrors. Though, a few of you have already borrowed a Terrible Terror it would seem,” the Night Fury rider said, spotting a few of the brightly colored dragons within the crowd. “Ho—”

Hiccup was once again cut off, this time by a heavyset shieldmaiden with blonde hair pulled into two sets of pigtails and decked out in armor. “That’s right, my beautiful baby boy trained Iggy here,” she lifted up the orange dragon she’d been smothering in her ample bosom, “he’s a Terrible Terror ya know and they’re supposed to be impossible to train, but my baby managed. Isn’t that right, snookums?”

The woman paused to wave at Fishlegs who was currently trying to hide behind Meatlug in shame. Not that his mother noticed as she once more pulled the gasping Terrible Terror into a crushing hug. Iggy let out a whine and clawed at her arms in a bid for freedom but his little talons couldn’t penetrate the heavy-duty armored plates covering the Ingerman matriarch’s forearms. She didn’t even notice and went right on talking.

“I’m here to see my boy train dragons and learn how to train them too. Although, I’m not too sure if I want a dragon of my own.”  

Taking pity on the purple-looking Fishlegs, Finn stepped forward to stand next to Gobber and drew the Vikings’ attention to him. “It is good to hear, Piglegs, that I am not the only one hesitant to get a dragon of my own. However, since my niece has graciously allowed me to borrow her Terrible Terror, Sneaky, I too shall be learning the art of training dragons.”

At the mention of the Terrible Terror, the hunter motioned to the aqua-colored dragon currently residing on top of Snotlout’s head. The Monstrous Nightmare rider turned to look for Sneaky, but when he didn’t see the dragon behind him he looked to the Dragon Riders on either side of him. Seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, blue eyes rolled up and found the Terrible Terror looking down at him. After a minor freak out, where Snotlout threw his hands up in an attempt to get the dragon off his helmet, Astrid moved forward.

“There are a few of you who will be working with some of the larger dragons. The chief requested Commander Huffnut of the Berk Guard to work with Flystorm,” the shieldmaiden took over gesturing to Ruffnut who was guiding a mostly orange and pale green Deadly Nadder with a tad of blue around the dragon’s snout with her.

“And Firefang with Berk’s Guild Head, Typhan,” Snotlout said, pointing to the magenta and yellowish orange Monstrous Nightmare Tuffnut was straining to pull along after him.

“Now that we know who has dragons we can assign the remaining Terrible Terrors—,” Hiccup started, only to be interrupted for the third time. This time by one of the three children present at the gathering.

“Wait! We have dragons too!” Snuffnut said, taking a step forward with Head and Butt held in each of his arms.

“I take it you too have Terrible Terrors?” Fishlegs asked, putting on airs as he reached out to tickle one of the yellow Terrible Terrors which proved to be a mistake as the little beast turned around and bit his finger.

“No silly. Uncle Tuffnut and Aunt Ruffnut are allowing Mom to practice training dragons with Head and Butt,” the blonde Viking shook his head, motioning to his mother standing behind him. “I’m just holding them. The chief let us put our dragons in the empty pens. We can show you.”

“Awe, why don’t you show us these dragons?” the heavyset Dragon Rider cooed patronizingly, completely missing the shared looks the twins gave each other and Jackson’s chuckles which turned into coughs. Snuffnut—donning a smirk worthy of any Thorston—nodded and gave Head and Butt to an unimpressed-looking Puffnut before scurrying over to one of the closed stalls with Gustav and Terrorthi right behind him. Together, the three children were able to pry open the large door without any of the adults’ help. “We’ve been playing with four dragons and so, Uncle Gruffnut volunteered to try to partner with Skully the Dracolich.”

“By Thor,” Gobber squeaked, eyes fixed on the large dragon stomping out of the stall on two feet, spreading its massive wings, and shaking. With every move it made, there was the sound of crackling from the bones that covered the dragon from its head to the huge concentration of bones forming a club at the end of its tail. The two large bone horns coming from the top of the dragon’s head almost touched the ground as the Mystery-class dragon lowered its head to allow Snuffnut to scratch the underside of its jawbone.

“Isn’t that—” Fishlegs squealed pointing at the Boneknapper as it trotted forward and bumped its skull-covered head against the stunned blond blacksmith.

Hiccup nodded, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. “That would be Gobber’s Nemesis, the Boneknapper.”

“He’s a fine dragon,” Gruffnut commented, walking over to the boney dragon and inspecting the large creature. The Boneknapper in turn looked the Viking over as well and when Snuffnut went over to his Uncle’s side, the Mystery-class dragon nodded in acceptance.

“Fellow Dragon Riders, I'd like you all to meet my dragon, Fanghook,” Gustav was already at another of the stall doors, pulling it open to reveal a smaller yellow and purple version of Hookfang. The adolescent Monstrous Nightmare zigzagged around the arena and ended up running into Hookfang who roared in the upstart’s face, sending Fanghook tumbling backwards.

“Fanghook? Are you serious?” Snotlout moaned out, slapping his hand over his face. “Don't you have any respect for authority?”

“Weren’t you the one to teach him his defiance of authority?” Jackson asked, waving his staff about feebly making the crystal and dragon scale clatter against each other.

“No,” the Monstrous Nightmare rider denied, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from the group as a whole.

“Uncle Tuffnut helped me find my dragon,” Snuffnut said, opening another stall with Terrorthi’s help. Another huge dragon covered in orange and yellow scales stepped out from inside, his wings larger than that of the Boneknapper’s while his head looked like a skull being completely white with two large horns on top of his head and a larger than usual nose horn for a dragon. Spines started just above orange eyes and went all the way down to the tip of his long tail.

“Torch?” Hiccup blinked to make sure he wasn’t imagining the dragon currently making a beeline towards him. But nope, Torch was still there and Toothless wasn’t happy with the younger dragon’s presence. The Night Fury went so far as to jump between his rider and the other dragon, growling. The larger of the two dragons growled right back, not backing down, just as he’d done as a hatchling when the two met for the first time. Placing a pacifying hand on Toothless’s head, the Head of the Academy turned to Tuffnut. “You got your nephew a Typhoomerang?”

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” and the auburn-haired teenager really wanted to speak with the twins about the importance of matching dragons with their potential riders when it came to pairing Vikings with dragons, because this? This was a lot of dragon for a little child.

“We’ve got more to worry about Hiccup,” Fishlegs tugged on Hiccup’s fur vest and pointed to the last dragon the children had gathered. “Look.”

“This is Neðan,” Terrorthi introduced the last dragon lurking in the shadows of the stall and it was then the Head of the Dragon Academy realized Toothless hadn’t been going after Torch, but at the Whispering Death housed with the Typhoomerang. Torch just got between them to keep Toothless from outright attacking the Boulder-class dragon and vice versa. Hiccup immediately recognized the Whispering Death—not needing to see the distinctive bite mark on the white dragon from a Night Fury that was a dead giveaway—as Toothless's rival. 

“Crap,” the Night Fury rider moaned as the two dragons growled threateningly at each other, attacks building up in their throats, while Torch tried to keep them separated. However, when a fireball hit mere inches from each of the dragons’ feet, all attention turned towards Jackson. More specifically, at the green Terrible Terror resting at the base of the crate, looking innocently at everyone staring at him. He chirped before scurrying up the crates to hide behind the brunet.

“None of that or else the heat will melt the ice above and we’ll all be buried under the snow. Hiccup, continue,” the Druid coughed out, covering his mouth with the arm warmer on his left arm and waving Hiccup to go on with his free hand.

Nodding his head appreciatively, the chief’s son pulled Toothless back to his side and returned his attention to the group of Viking recruits. “Yes, well now that there are dragons to work with, the first step is to establish a bond with your dragon. We usually do this by giving them a name, but since all the dragons seem to have names, we’re going to move on to the next step.

“Next, you need to reach out your hand, but don’t look the dragon in the eye. They will see it as a challenge and attack. Instead, hold out your hand and look to the side, leave some space so the dragon has to reach out to you as well. This will establish the first link of trust between dragon and rider.”

“Like this,” Ruffnut demonstrated, holding her hand out to Scauldy which the Tidal-class dragon was happy to rub her head against the offered hand.

“Exactly, thank you Ruffnut,” Hiccup smiled, a little surprised at Ruffnut’s assistance. “Now, I know some of you already have a bond with your dragons, but for those of you that don’t, we’re all going to go through this exercise. The Dragon Riders will help you through it.”

Turning towards his friends, the Head of the Academy nodded to the blonde shieldmaiden. “Astrid, I want you to help the commander with Flystorm.”

“And you want me to help Typhan with Firefang,” Snotlout cut in, jabbing a thumb at himself.

“Actually, no, I want you to help Gustav with Fanghook,” Hiccup corrected. “Tuffnut, I’m leaving Snuffnut and Torch with you. Ruffnut, Scauldy, Mulch, and Bucket will be your responsibility, and Fishlegs, you help those with Terrible Terrors.”

“Uh, couldn’t I help Gruffnut with the Boneknapper, he might need my help more,” the Gronckle Rider nervously suggested, glancing over at his mother hugging the life out of Iggy.

“No, I’m going to have Gobber work with Gruffnut while I help Terrorthi with—uh—the Whispering Death. Jackson, if you don’t mind and are feeling up to it, could you help Typhan with Firefang?” the chief’s son turned his attention to the Druid seated on top of the crates.

“Sure,” Jackson nodded his head, grinning ever so slightly before sneezing once more.

“Alright, just help the others work on forming a bond, a friendship,” Hiccup gave them one last piece of advice before the Dragon Riders broke and headed over to their assigned students. The Druid, though, stayed on top of the crates at Hiccup’s insistence. “I’ll bring Typhan over here with Firefang, Toothless will stay and help, just in case anything might get out of hand.” Not to mention he didn’t want the Night Fury and the Whispering Death anywhere near each other right now. “Okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jackson agreed, pulling the fur closer around him. Before the Night Fury rider left, amber eyes caught vivid green orbs to give him an encouraging smile. “And Hiccup, you’re doing really well. I know this wasn’t your idea, but you’re making the best of the situation and you've handled everything thrown your way with competence and care. You just gotta work on your confidence.”

“Uh… thanks,” the auburn-haired teenager returned the smile, hoping there weren’t any traces of the blush he was fighting to keep off his face.

The Druid smiled as the winds—and how the winds seemingly got through the impenetrable snow barrier, Hiccup had no idea—whipped around and ruffled the brunet’s dark hair.   “You should listen to me more often then. I’m always right. Now bring me my student, O’Mighty Dragon Master.”

Smiling, the Night Fury rider shook his head in amusement. “I shall, Great Druid of the Taliesin clan.”

As Hiccup walked away, Sharpshot flew over to him and landed on his shoulder, nipping at his ear and chirping all through his short talk with Typhan. After filling in the Head of Berk’s Craft Guild on who he was to work with, Hiccup led Typhan over to Jackson who was seemingly bribing Firefang to sit still with treats. Once the Monstrous Nightmare noticed their approach, he began glaring and growling.

The Head of the Academy was taken aback by the sudden change in the usually calm Stoker-class dragon, and he wanted to stay to help. However, Jackson was already waving Hiccup off, wishing him luck with the Whispering Death and Terrorthi. Still, the Night Fury rider hesitated when Typhan took a step forward and Firefang’s growls grew louder.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Hiccup reluctantly moved on, patting Toothless on the head before making his way over to his student.


Jack coughed into his fist before shifting the fur blanket for what seemed like the thousandth time. Sniffling, he took the time to look over Berk’s Craft Guild Master. Unlike any of the Vikings he had seen, this man wore not a stitch of armor, his clothing consisted of dark draping fabrics made from materials clearly not common to Berk. There were tassels and decorative ropes attached in various places on his clothing with multiple pieces of shiny bits and bobs that twinkled in the lights decorating his clothing. His hair was long and matted like the other Vikings, but it was so dark it stood out with all the fairer-haired villagers. It was his eyes that held Jack’s attention, others would call them dark brown, but to him, they were a fathomless black.

“So, where do we begin?” the man’s voice was soft, almost as if he was whispering, but still loud enough for Jack to hear.

Sneezing once more, the brunet stretched out. He was planning to climb down off the crates, but his path was blocked by Toothless as the dragon came between the ground and the crates. Even Firefang, whose growling subsided, started up once again when he attempted to approach the older man. Sighing in defeat, the brunet stayed where he was at, appeasing the two Creatures of Magic.

“Gaining trust,” Jack answered, eyeing the light breeze that was ruffling the dark-haired man’s clothing, making the little bits and bobs on the fabric glitter intensely.

“Very well,” Typhan nodded his head and extended a hand similar to Ruffnut’s demonstration. Unlike the young blonde Dragon Rider—and disregarding Hiccup’s warning—he looked right at Toothless and didn’t seem to be affected when the Night Fury hunkered down, teeth breaking through his gums where they usually resided unseen. At least the Master Craftsman was smart enough to pull his hand back in time to avoid losing said hand as the dragon snapped at the offending appendage.

“They don’t seem to like you,” amber eyes narrowed.

“It seems not,” the man replied, tucking his hands into the opposing long flowing sleeves. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“One,” Jackson had to stop and cover his mouth as a coughing fit hit him. Once he could breathe again, the brunet eyed the man as his clothing swayed in the breeze around him while in turn, fathomless black eyes watched the winds ruffle brown locks in a comforting gesture. Finally, Jackson jabbed his staff in the general direction of the craftsman, accusingly. “Stop messing with the winds.”

The man raised an eyebrow and really looked at him instead of through him. “Whatever do you mean child?”

“I mean, stop conjuring your harsh, unnatural winds. Being Creatures of Magic, dragons are more sensitive to the manipulations you’re creating,” the Druid answered, shifting his hand to twirl a finger around. While he wasn’t using any magic to control the elements, the winds were happy to oblige his silent request. They swirled around him before bringing in a small flurry of snow from outside the arena, through the opening, and dropping the cold powder into his awaiting palm.

“I apologize for my insensitivity,” the craftsman said as his clothing finally fell still. “I did not realize it was my solar winds which were upsetting the dragons.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the brunet asked, packing the snow into a ball and lobbing it with deadly accuracy. It hit the back of Ruffnut’s head, who turned and glared at her brother before tackling him to the ground.

“No, I arrived on a Galleon years ago, having been captured by pirates. The chief of this village was kind enough to offer me a place to stay while the injuries I sustained healed. But that was many years ago, a lifetime really, and I ended up settling on the isle, calling this land my home,” the man replied, as he absentmindedly rubbed his eyes. Yet it was his words that had Jack sitting upright and closely examining him, a calculating look in his eyes.

“Where are you from?” the ex-spirit asked, accusations no longer lacing his voice as he lazily spun his staff in between his fingers.

“I’m from very far away, a place I’m sure you haven’t heard of,” the man answered, without really answering.

“Hmm,” Jack murmured and nodded, going along with the obvious evasive technique; a cheeky grin blooming across his face. “You know, I’ve heard of humans becoming Constellations, but I’ve never heard of a Constellation becoming human. How’d that happen? Did it have something to do with the Dream Pirates? And when you say the chief welcomed you, I’m thinking it wasn’t Stoick the Vast, now was it?”

His questions caused the man to snap his head up and the air to become uncomfortably warm, which only had the two dragons—who’d relaxed at the lack of solar winds but didn't let their guard down—tensing up again. “You would be correct in your assumptions. It was Hiccup Haddock the First who offered his hospitality to me. Now, I think an appropriate question would be who—or what—are you?”

“Calm down Toothless, he’s okay. If I’m not mistaken, he is the Titan Constellation: Typhan. The God of Storms. Well, solar storms, but here on Midgard, the most he could make would be a tempest with his powers bound as they are,” Jack reassured the Night Fury, finally sliding down off the crate to stand between the two dragons. Toothless ceased his growls when the Druid laid a hand on his back, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at the craftsman. “I’m Jackson Overland, ex-Guardian of Childhood—or future Guardian of Fun, depending on how you look at it—chosen by Tsar Lunar, the XII.”

“Guardian? Similar to the Tsar’s Guardian Nightlight?” Typhan inquired, head angling to the side as he glanced up to where the moon would be if the ice dome wasn’t in the way.

“Conceptually, yes. Only, the Guardians of Childhood protect all the children on Midgard,” Jack clarified as he shuffled over to Firefang and pulled out a dragon treat from his pouch. Holding it up to the grumbling Monstrous Nightmare, the dragon eyed it before eyeing Typhan. He finally decided his stomach was more important than growling at the Titan Constellation and gobbled up the offered treat.

“Yet you said you were an ex-Guardian but will be one again? How do you know this?” the older man asked, black orbs focused on the large dragon he was supposed to be bonding with but was currently putty in the brunet’s hands.

“Let’s just say, me and time are not getting along right now,” Jack shrugged, his grip tightening on his staff as he pulled the heavy fur tighter around his shoulders.

“Ah, I see. I will ask no more to avoid any paradoxes,” Typhan hummed in understanding. Reaching his hand out to touch the distracted Monstrous Nightmare, the Titan Constellation halted when yellow eyes snapped in his direction. Letting out a growl of warning, Firefang began to flame up before dousing his flames due to the offered bribe of another dragon treat. “Why don’t we proceed with the dragon training? I find myself fascinated by these creatures. Yet, they don’t seem to like me.”

“I think they sense that you’re not from Midgard, being Creatures of Magic they’re sensitive to that sort of thing. Your solar winds also aren’t helping any. But, I think we can work around the differences, right Toothless?” Jack asked the Night Fury who just sneezed and shook his head. “Oh, don’t be like that. Typhan is an ally.”  

“It seems he disagrees with you,” Typhan chuckled when Toothless bared his teeth at the Craft Guild Master.

The brunet waved off the dragon’s attitude with his staff, explaining between a coughing fit. “Don’t mind him, he’s hard to win over. Firefang, however, he’ll be easier.”

“You seem unwell,” the craftsman pointed out, looking a little concerned for Jack’s wellbeing.

“Just getting over Eel Pox,” the ex-spirit disregarded the worry directed towards him. He reached into his pouch and produced a handful of dragon treats that he passed over to the raven-haired man. “Here, these will help move things along. As Snotlout has pointed out with his Monstrous Nightmare, feeding time is bonding time for a dragon and his rider, and that’s how we’re going to start off your bond with Firefang.”

Taking the food, Typhan offered one to the Stoker-class dragon. It was a battle of willpower and patience. Food won over in the end and Firefang finally took the treat from the patient man. The process was repeated again and again until the dragon was taking the treats without hesitation. Once they were gone, the former Constellation held out his hand to Firefang, this time not looking the dragon in the eyes, and was rewarded with Firefang placing his muzzle into the offered hand.

“Great!” Jack excitedly exclaimed from on top of the crates once more with Toothless curled up behind him, keeping the slight shivers—which slowly crept over the Druid during their training—at bay.

“That’s very good,” Hiccup commented, coming to stand with them and looking over at Firefang. He gave a nod to Typhan and then turned to address the whole crowd of Vikings. “You’ve all done well today. I’m not saying you’re Dragon Riders just yet, but you’ve made the first step on the rocky road that we—the members of the Academy—have had to travel. We had to learn how to be Dragon Riders the only way we knew how, by doing. To truly become a Dragon Rider of Berk, the rider needs experience, the dragon needs experience, and the rider and the dragon need experience working together as one unit.

“I’m happy to say, class is over for the day. Tomorrow, we’ll reconvene and move on to our next lesson. Now, for those of you with larger dragons, it’s time to put them back into their pens and, if you’re willing to help feed them before heading back to your huts, it’ll help cement your bond with them.  The rest of you, please head out before we get snowed in the arena.”

The Academy members proceeded to assist the younger children in herding the bigger dragons into their stalls for the night and feeding them. Those with Terrible Terrors returned them to their respective Dragon Riders while the Vikings headed out. Seeing that the others had everything taken care of, Hiccup turned his attention to the Craft Guild’s Head and the Druid.

“Thank you for your help, I would appreciate your assistance further in the future,” Typhan expressed his gratitude, giving Jack a slight bow before giving a deeper one to Hiccup. “I shall put Firefang back into his stall and feed him. It might be best if you get this one here inside and warmed up.”

“I shall make sure he gets there safely,” Hiccup agreed as Toothless nudged Jack to get him off the crates.

Chapter 39: The Frozen Flight

Notes:

Caitycaterpillar: You are right, there are not enough slow-burn HiJack long fics out there. We need more people to write them! Rally the troops- er-Writers!

Malaayna: Yea! Someone caught the D&D reference! I actually don't remember how many references to other fandoms I've now made, but I'm thrilled whenever someone points them out and says I understand that reference.

BlackMoonFantasy: You and I are on the same wavelength, Jack has spent centuries neglected and people just don't get over that magically (okay, maybe they do if there's is magic involved, but otherwise, no, that's not how our brains are wired). Also, I'm glad you can log in to your account again, I hate when my accounts freeze me out (which happens too often sometimes).

Telidina: You're welcome for the update, it's always nice to know you (and Malaayna) hung around because the both of you are a few of my first reviewers who've constantly sent me reviews and encouragement and to know you guys are sticking with me for this long is a blessing. Thank you!

Chapter Text

“How’s it coming along here?” Hiccup asked, walking over to the small group training Terrible Terror. Really, they did not need much help, since the Terrors were already trained for the most part. However, the new trainers were unused to working with dragons and the problems came more from the Vikings than the dragons.

“Oh, we’re so good! My little wookums is such a great teacher. He’s been giving us all individual attention and giving pointers on how we could do better, despite having so many students. He’s simply the best teacher,” Piglegs cooed, hugging her son to her bosom. Although, to Hiccup, it looked more like she was suffocating the Gronckle rider while slowly killing him from embarrassment. Iggy was smart enough to fly out of reach and land on Toothless’s back when the woman’s eyes turned on him.

“Uh,” the Head of the Academy stuttered, shifting from foot to foot trying to figure out what to do. Today marked the third day in a row the Dragon Riders were teaching some of the other Vikings about proper dragon care and how to better understand the dragons they were working with. Under different circumstances, the older Vikings would not have been able to put in as many hours as they had in the last few days, but with the storm still raging on and showing no signs of letting up, they had the time. Not to mention, it kept all of them from developing going stir-crazy.

“We’re good Hiccup,” Finn supplied, petting the aqua-colored Terrible Terror perched on his arm. “Sneaky has even learned a few new tricks.”

“I too am satisfied with the progress I have made with Head and Butt. I’ve learned a lot of the dragon hand signals thanks to Fishlegs's coaching,” Puffnut commented, nodding to the two yellow dragons circling around the small group. Pointing at Tuffnut and making a small hand gesture, the two Terrible Terrors screeched and proceeded to dart over to the woman’s youngest brother. Butt snatched his helmet off his head while Head grabbed hold of one of his blond locks with his teeth and kept the Viking from chasing after his thieving twin.

“That’s good,” Hiccup nodded before moving on to the next group. Toothless took a moment to growl something at Iggy—the tiny dragon gurgled back before taking flight and landing on Piglegs’s shoulder—and followed in his rider’s wake. Together, they made their rounds. Observing the trainees and evaluating how well they were adapting to work with the dragons while handing out a few tips and tricks of his own.

His last stop was at Jackson and his trainees, Typhan and Terrorthi—the second being thrust at him when Hiccup had to hastily leave the young girl to help calm down an irate Flystorm—and their dragons. As he walked over to them, a smile spread across his face upon noticing that the fur blanket the Druid had been using for extra warmth was draped over the side of some barrels and he was standing tall, using his staff to scratch Firefang behind his horns instead of leaning heavily on it. Other than the occasional sneeze, it appeared Jackson was fully recovered from Eel Pox.

“How are things progressing here?” Hiccup asked, happy to see that neither Toothless nor Neðan were trying to maul each other. They still didn’t like each other, but they were at least being civil. It was an improvement.

“We’ve found out Whispering Deaths aren’t affected by Dragon Nip,” Terrorthi answered, holding up some of Jackson’s dragon treats. “They are affected by fossilized fish though. And, uh, we might owe Master Typhan some compensation for his wears that were…uh…eaten.”

“It is of no concern to me,” the Guild Master dismissed, patting the Whispering Death on the head, which was a real improvement since he’d only let Terrorthi touch him previously. “At least we got this one to open up to us.”

“He likes me the best! I brush his teeth,” the young girl beamed, holding up a scrub brush that was pilfered from her hands by Firefang. The Monstrous Nightmare proceeded to throw the object up into the air for Sharpshot to catch, who in turn, took the brush back to an unfazed Terrorthi. “And we also learned Firefang likes to play catch with Sharpshot.”

“Neðan also seems to be addicted to these. I would say they’re the equivalent to Dragon Nip for Whispering Deaths,” Jackson contributed, holding up a small brown and green marbled rock, and throwing it up into the air. The Whispering Death immediately lunged for the pebble and snapped it out of the air, purring as he devoured the treat.

“What is that?” Hiccup asked eyeing Neðan who was purring and rubbing himself up against the Druid in hopes of gaining more treats.

“Know the pond we created during the whole Flightmare incident?”

“How can I forget?” Hiccup answered drily, the tips of his ears turning red at the Druid’s delighted laugh.

“Well, I’ve been drying some of the algae from the pond to make treats for the dragons, cause, the dragons seemed to like it,” Jackson explained, pulling out a few dried pellet treats to show the Night Fury rider before tossing them to Firefang, who devoured them. “However, while I was pulling out some of the algae to use, I found these greenish-brown rocks growing in the middle of the algae. I didn’t think anything of it until Neðan almost ate my pouch trying to get to it.”

“That definitely needs to be put in The Book of Dragons,” Hiccup commented, watching as Neðan became putty in the Druid’s hands. “What should we call it?”

“Algaenite?” Terrorthi offered.

“I like it,” Jackson said, ruffling the girl’s hair, causing her to giggle and grin up at her hero. “You heard the girl, Algaenite it is.”

The chief’s son chuckled along with the child. “Algenite it is then.”

“Odin's ghost, it's cold out there! Worst freeze in the history of Berk! My beard is frozen solid,” Stoick’s voice broke into the conversation as the chief came through the entrance of the arena, brushing snow from his armor. Thornado had an easier time ridding himself of the snow. Shaking his body, the dragon sent the white flakes flying off of him and onto his rider, coating him in yet another layer of snow. Stoick gave the Thunderdrum a disapproving look and shook his head, green eyes scanning the Academy only to land on Hiccup. “Son, we need to talk.”

“I’ll be right back,” the Night Fury rider nodded to the group to continue without him and walked over to the corner of the arena where his father was waiting for him. “So, Father, what brings you to the Academy?”

“Trader Johann hasn't reported to port. If he's trapped out in this storm, he won't last the night. I was thinking of having you and Toothless go since Toothless can find Johann's ship in the darkness,” Stoick got straight down to business.

“Ehh, I don't know…,” Hiccup replied hesitantly, glancing back at his trainees.

He had to suppress a snort when he saw four dragons all lined up and sitting very majestically as they begged for treats from Jackson. What was more entertaining was that both Toothless and Neðan were trying to one-up each other, sitting up higher and higher trying to be the tallest when Firefang perked up and won with no competition. Although, it was Sharpshot who finally broke rank and flew at the brunet. Jackson was quick to give them all the treats to get the Terrible Terror out of his hair, literally.

Turning back to his father, he gave him a sheepish smile. “We’re still working on building trust between the new trainees and the dragons. There have been a few problems with Flystorm and the Guard Commander and I wouldn’t want to leave in case I was needed.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage without you. Huffnut and Flystorm seem to be doing fine now and I'm sure Astrid can handle things while you're gone,” the chief commented, looking over to where the two shieldmaidens were grooming both Deadly Nadders' tails, Astrid occasionally stopping what she was doing to correct the Guard Commander's brushstrokes. His eyes then swept over the rest of the Dragon Rider Trainees—all of whom were grooming their dragons in different manors—before his gaze came across the last group and rested on the blue-cloaked figure scratching Toothless underneath his chin. “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to go?”

Hiccup glanced back behind him one more time, his cheeks flushing slightly before snapping back to look at his father. “Uh, no… I—I can go.”

“Bolt the door behind you when you leave, please,” Stoick patted his son on the shoulder before nudging him on his way. He watched as the young teenager went to inform the group Jackson was in first on the newest development and collect a reluctant Night Fury before heading over to Astrid to do the same. “Still need to talk to him about that.”


Hiccup was thankful for the extra fur blanket Jackson forced upon him before they left. His hands were shaking as he put on his riding harness, making it nearly impossible to clip the safeties onto Toothless’s saddle. He would have preferred to stay inside the Dragon Training Academy where it was warm thanks to the faeries and dragons creating an enclosed structure.

Still, someone needed to find Trader Johann and bring him back to port. Though he hated to admit it, Toothless was the best dragon for the job. The Night Fury excelled in the dark and could find their target through their echolocation—as Jackson called it—and Toothless was the fastest dragon on Berk. Therefore, it was up to them to find Trader Johann’s longboat and get the man back to the village before he froze to death.

“It's pretty dark out here, Bud,” the Night Fury rider commented as the rest of the dusk’s light disappeared, leaving them in the true darkness of a cloudy night. Patting the dragon between his ear-plates, the auburn-haired teenager leaned closer to reduce the full-on assault of the cold night air. “Do your thing.”

Toothless gurgled before letting out a massive roar. His ear-plates twitched every which way for a few moments before he changed directions ever so slightly—and Hiccup changed the tailfin’s position without thought to accommodate their new speed—to fly lower to the ocean. It took a moment for Hiccup’s eyes to make out what his mind had already deemed different. It was when he couldn’t see the rolling waves and had to really focus that he realized the ocean was frozen in thick layers of ice sheets.

“Wow!” the chief’s son murmured, amazed at the sheer number of sheets of ice. “Look at that. I've never seen the ocean frozen solid before. No wonder Trader Johann can't get to the port. No one could get through this.”

The Night Fury grumbled and Hiccup rubbed his side. “I mean no one but you, Bud. Come on, let’s find Trader Johann and get back to Berk. Jackson promised to make stew for the trainees and I bet he’ll have something for all the dragons too.”

Toothless’s ear-plates perked up and he let out another loud roar. Eagerly searching for the missing trader now that there was an incentive in it for him. They flew for a while in silence before the wind started to pick up once more, blowing a thick layer of fog in. The Night Fury did his best to avoid it by flying higher, but they couldn’t escape the fog bank. Hiccup was just glad Toothless could see since he definitely couldn’t.

The groans of ice hitting ice below were momentarily replaced by high-pitched shrieks and no matter how hard he looked, the Dragon Rider couldn’t see a thing. His dragon could, judging by the growls he was emitting and the way his ear-plates lay flat against his head. Just as quickly as the high-pitched shrieks started up, they died off.

“Whoa!” Hiccup strained to see through the fog bank, failing miserably. “I don't know what that was, Bud, but I'm glad we're up here and it's down there.”

Toothless grunted before roaring again and speeding up slightly. The auburn-haired teen noted the tense muscles of the Night Fury had yet to relax for some time after the strange sounds and his roars had become louder and more frequent. In Hiccup’s opinion, Toothless was ill at ease. From what, he didn’t know but he made various attempts to soothe the dragon by rubbing his sides and murmuring soft encouragements.

Sadly, since he too was unsettled—Toothless’s instincts had proven themselves to be correct on countless occasions—the Night Fury wasn’t reassured. Hiccup just prayed to any of the gods and goddesses that were listening they would find Trader Johann soon. Then they could be on their way back to Berk. Hopefully, nothing would go wrong in the interim.

A tense silence took hold for a period. The fogbank rolled out, taking some of the clouds with them, allowing Máni’s light to filter through the thinning clouds. With the sliver of light provided by the moon, vivid green eyes could finally see more than just Toothless’s head in front of him. He could see the moonlight’s reflection dancing off the numerous icebergs and sheets of ice, giving the night an eerie ambiance.

Hiccup really wished they were back on Berk.

“You found something?” the words spilled from the Viking's mouth the instant Toothless’s head shot up, knowing the Night Fury undoubtedly located something. If it was Trader Johann or something else, that was still a mystery. “Let's take a better look.”

Flying closer to the ocean, green eyes squinted in hopes of spotting something other than ice in the ocean. A faint dark spot stood out since it stood tall in the water, almost encased in ice. Shifting his weight in the saddle, Toothless responded, turning in the direction Hiccup shifted. As they drew closer the dark spot took the shape of a longboat in the faint moonlight. Flying a little bit further revealed the sails to be those of Trader Johann’s longboat.

“There he is!” relief welled up inside of him as something on the deck began to move before a man threw off the furs he had been buried under and frantically waved his arms about. Despite the distance between them, Hiccup could tell the boat’s lone occupant was close to being frozen.  His dark brown hair and beard had frost clinging to them—making him appear much older than he was—while his fine blue and red silk tunic and cotton brown trousers did little to keep the trader warm.

“Master Hiccup!” Johann shouted in relief, falling to his knees and clapping his hands together. “You're a welcome sight for these weary eyes.”

“I’m glad to find you in good health with this crazy weather,” Hiccup acknowledged the trader as he moved out of the way for the Night Fury to land.

“In all my years on the briny deep, I have never witnessed a freeze quite like this one. Ice as thick as Thor's hammer! I even considered abandoning my ship to travel to Berk on foot just to deliver your father important information,” Johann continued as if the teenager hadn’t spoken. Hiccup, discreetly rolled his eyes and dismounted Toothless while the trader babbled, allowing the dragon to stretch and shake out his limbs from the long flight. “But each time I got out, the wind would pick up and I was sent fleeing for my life back to the safety of my boat.”

“Information? What information,” Hiccup rounded from where he had been inspecting one of the piles of commodities the trader had to offer. He had dismounted Toothless while the trader babbled, allowing the dragon to stretch and shake out his limbs from the long flight.

“What I have is for the chief’s ears only,” Johann began and the Head of the Dragon Academy was slightly disappointed. Then again, he understood the importance of keeping military intelligence private; Trader Johann, on the other hand, didn’t. “But, since you’re the chief’s son, I don’t see a problem sharing the information with you. It wouldn’t hurt, right?  Right. You see, Master Hiccup, I just concluded my business at Outcast Island when I overheard Dagur bragging about test-firing some sort of new weapon in the coming days. Knowing that your tribe was at odds with the Berserkers, I gallantly headed off to warn your father of his dastardly deeds when this storm came out of nowhere. I was lucky to survive.”

Hiccup listened, his mind already calculating and planning counters to Dagur’s next move. Given how far out the longboat was and estimating how many days it took for Johann to reach this point from Outcast Island, there was no doubt in his mind the deranged Viking had already test-fired the weapon. He probably had over a week to perfect any problems with the weapon—if any—which meant it was only the storm keeping the Berserkers at bay. The last thought had the son of the chief stopping dead.

“Trader Johann, you said Dagur was getting ready to test-fire his new weapon then the storm hit correct?” Hiccup clarified.

If he was right, then the storm hit Outcast Island and—by extension—Trader Johann during the middle of Berk’s Eel Pox epidemic. When they were at their most vulnerable to an attack. In fact, because of the storm, they were fortunate enough to not only regain their health but also strengthen their defenses with the newest group of Hooligans training to be Dragon Riders.

“That is correct Master Hiccup, the storm came out of nowhere, freezing everything. I tried to turn around at first, but it was as if the gods themselves were against me. Snow was coming down in blankets, covering everything and the winds! The winds pushed me back and away from Outcast Island, which was—” the trader said, waving his hands everywhere.

“Buried in snow?” Hiccup supplied yet he was no longer listening to Johann, eyes settling on the moon shining above him.

“Exactly. From the sea stacks off the coast of Outcast Island, I bore witness to a rockslide the likes you’ve never seen. It crushed the majority of the Outcast’s military base and I am apprehensive to say the weapon they were building was destroyed, but that is most likely the case,” Johann confirmed, nodding his head vigorously.

The chief’s son was relieved to hear the weapon was destroyed—and why Johann couldn’t have led with that, the Dragon Rider didn’t know—but his thoughts were elsewhere. His mind drawing inward even as the trader started to ramble on about the storm. Hiccup, on the other hand, was no longer paying him any heed.

This was the second time a snowstorm hit them out of season within the last few months. Both times, they were in danger of being attacked by Dagur. More specifically, both times, Jackson was at risk of getting seriously injured. The first time was when he acted as bait to lure the deranged Viking into the open and the thunderstorm had abruptly turned into a snowstorm, distracting Dagur and sparing the Druid. This time, Jackson was severely ill and without the storm giving him the time needed to recover, Dagur would have very well attacked them when they were susceptible to an assault.

Actually, Hiccup realized, this would be the third time. From what Finn mentioned, he thought the Changewings who’d attacked Jackson upon his arrival were displaced due to a snowstorm. The hunter speculated the Druid was attacked by the pride of dragons on Berk and not on Changewing Island. The storm more than likely—in Gobber’s opinion—displaced Grump as well, forcing him to land on Berk and ultimately, saving Jackson.

In each instance, there were only two factors: Jackson and snow. Moreover, the only being he could think of who could perform such a feat was none other than Jökul Frosti. It made sense though, with Jackson constantly recounting the tales of Jökul Frosti to the children—although, the adults of Berk also heard a tale or two of the mischievous personification of winter—winter’s manifestation might be inclined to protect his emissary.

“I’m beginning to think you’re not the only one interested in Jackson,” Hiccup said, still staring up at the moon as the clouds slowly started to cover Máni once more.

“—it was horrible,” Johann finished, oblivious to the fact no one was listening to him.

“Well, you won't have to worry about that now, Johann,” Hiccup shook the thoughts from his mind and climbed onto Toothless’s back. “Just enjoy the ride.”

“Excellent,” the man sighed in relief, climbing on behind him. Unfortunately, he managed to step on the Night Fury’s wing while mounting Toothless, earning him a yowl of displeasure that he either ignored or completely missed with his own rambling. “We shall pass the time with stories of my grand adventures that are sure to warm your heart and stoke the fires of your imagination.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I found myself up against the man-eating metal masons of Minori Majore? Oh, it was spring. The smell of fresh jasmine was in the air…,” Johann continued on, and on, and on. Not that either dragon or Dragon Rider paid him any attention. Hiccup heard the story too many times to count and liked it as much as he liked it the first time he heard it, that is to say, not at all. Toothless agreed with him, giving a low whimper, ear-plates flattening against his head before abruptly taking off as the only form of retaliation available to the dragon.

Johann gave a yelp and clung on tighter, causing the auburn-haired teenager to roll his eyes. The little jolt was nothing, Jackson would probably yawn at such a feeble attempt to scare him and ask when the real ride was about to start. Still, even as the trader yelled for them to slow down, the Night Fury rider shifted Toothless’s tailfin and the dragon happily accelerated.


Hiccup was contemplating the likelihood of his father believing him if he showed up without Trader Johann and a sad tale of not being able to find the man’s longboat. Throughout the journey, he’d considered dropping the man off on one of the numerous islands they’d passed by on their way back to Berk. Near the end, the Night Fury duo were all too willing to dump the trader in the middle of the ocean and be done with it. Johann just didn’t know what the meaning of silence was.

“—but it was not a yak; it was his daughter!” the man finished, dissolving into a fit of laughter at his own story which wasn’t funny at all. “I could not believe it! She looked like a yak and her name was Yakmeen. And that, Master Hiccup, is how the King of Ennuden made me an honorary member of his royal court.”

“Oh, look, we're here!” Hiccup announced joyfully when the silhouette of Berk and its many sea stacks entered his tired vision. The sun behind the island illuminated the landmass and made it seem all that more of the salvation he desperately needed. “Thank Odin.”

Toothless shook his head and grumbled out his own gratitude at being back home. The Dragon Rider had caught the dragon more than once looking back at Johann and glaring at the man with a calculating gleam in his eyes. A look that did not bond well for the trader’s health but would have appeased the Night Fury and—if he was honest—himself too.

Within a few minutes, they were landing in the middle of Berk. The snow-covered buildings presented a beautiful sight now the snowstorm had finally subsided. There was one thing missing from the picturesque village though: the people. Not a single Viking was in sight, not even footprints in the soft powdery snow to reveal where they could have gone.

“Hmm, not the welcome I'm accustomed to, but nonetheless,” Johann rambled out as he dismounted and stretched out. Hiccup followed after the slightly taller man and looked around the village, expecting someone to pop out of their huts at any moment.

No one did.

“Where is everyone?” the Head of the Dragon Academy spoke out loud, more to himself than to the only other human within hearing range.

However, Johann took it as an invitation to start talking; again. “This reminds me of the time I landed on the Island of the Red—"

Hiccup cut him off by holding up a single finger to shush the man when he thought he heard something. Yet, even without the trader’s constant rambling, the noise was gone.

“Hello?” the Dragon Rider called out, walking further into the abandoned village. “Anyone?”

Toothless sniffed around and Hiccup followed after the dragon to where his father’s favorite mug rested on top of a barrel outside of the Haddock hut. It was turned over, the contents spilled as if the mug had been placed down in a rush while the chief ran from the house. Pushing the unbolted door open, the teenage Viking looked at the smoldering coals indicating no one had been there for some time.

That didn’t stop Hiccup from calling out for his father in the deserted hut. “Dad?”

Taking a step forward, the floor underneath his boot squished and he looked down to find another discarded mug that had once been filled with water which now surrounded the tankard on the floor. Toothless came up behind him and sniffed at the spill, whining softly and pushing the mug with his nose pathetically. Turning on his heels, Hiccup headed back outside

“What in the name of Thor is going on?” the auburn-haired teen asked the gods. He continued with his search of the village, finding Johann where he had left him. “Johann, anything?”

“The whole town, Master Hiccup, it’s empty,” the trader said, looking nervously and speaking no more than he had to. The ghost village obviously unsettled him if he was willing to shut up.

“I know. It's very weird,” Hiccup muttered, rubbing his chin. He couldn’t think of any reason why the village would be abandoned. Dagur and the Outcasts were preoccupied with the damage done by the snowstorm on Outcast Island and there weren’t any signs of the Screaming Death.

“I don't like this one bit,” Trader Johann stated a matter-of-factly, and the auburn-haired Viking would have taken him seriously, if not for the fact he then started to ramble on about another one of his adventures. “There was one time I was on a trade run with a man who claimed to be a warlock and—”

The noise he’d first heard upon arriving returned. Auburn locks flaring outward as his head whipped about trying to locate whatever it was zipping from hut to hut. The sound of an overturned barrel clattering to the ground was deafening.

“Let's go, Toothless,” Hiccup commanded, swinging up onto the Night Fury’s back. “Johann, stay here.”

The two took off chasing whatever it was on foot instead of taking to the skies. Toothless followed the thing more by the sounds it was making knocking over various objects than sight. They actually never got a glimpse of the creature as they weaved through the huts and circled about before the sounds dissolved and Hiccup found themselves situated near the cliffs.

Dismounting, the Dragon Rider glanced around the various structures, catching the briefest glimpse of movement by the Ingerman hut. Against his better judgment, he found himself creeping closer to the front of Fishlegs’s home. Sharply he rounded the corner only to stop in his tracks.

“Terrorthi?” Hiccup blinked, catching sight of the little girl. Upon hearing his voice, the tiny shieldmaiden whirled around and eyes filled with just as much surprise as his own gazed up at him.

“Hiccup?” the girl squeaked a moment before something collided with Hiccup from above, crushing him to the ground and knocking the breath out of him as the world faded into darkness.

Chapter 40: Frozen Fun

Notes:

Dear Readers,

I have a love-hate relationship with this chapter. I love how the end turned out, I hated writing it. I had the whole thing finished last night and was doing the final review when I said fuck it and deleted over half of the content. I hope this much better-quality chapter makes up for the delay.

Regards,
SilverlySilence

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Hiccup came to, the first thing he noticed was the blurred outline of a black dragon standing over him.

“Toothless?” he slurred out, not trusting his own eyes due to the splotches of light distorting his vision. The blotches and dragon suddenly disappeared, replaced by Fishlegs’s face which was way too close for comfort. That alone had Hiccup scrambling backwards to put some distance between him and the Gronckle rider. The slight screeching sound he made? Totally acceptable given the circumstances. “Whoa!! Don't ever do that again!”

“Hiccup!” Fishlegs—completely overlooking Hiccup’s reaction—hauled the smaller Dragon Rider up into a bone-crushing hug while gushing over him. “Oh, thank Thor! I'm so sorry I fell on you! But it wasn’t on purpose, I slipped off the roof when I heard you and—”

“Fishlegs, let go of him. We don’t need you killing the Head of our Academy, not when we have a dragon problem on our hands,” Terrorthi futilely tugged at the blond’s fur tunic in an attempt to free Hiccup. The tiny girl’s physical efforts were in vain, but—thankfully—where her struggles failed, her words proved to be effective.

Fishlegs all but dropped the chief’s son in favor of tugging at the end of his blond hair and pacing back and forth, jabbering all the while. “Fast! Really fast, too fast! Speedy. Oh, and their sting, paralyzing sting!”

Seeing as Fishlegs was too wound up to make sense, Hiccup took the opportunity to suck in a lungful of crisp cold air and thanked Odin he had come out of the Gronckle rider’s hug undamaged. He also made a mental note to do something nice for Terrorthi. However, before he could make any further plans for the heroic little shieldmaiden, Toothless stole his attention with a nudge to the side.

Catching a glimpse of acid green eyes gazing at him worriedly, Hiccup reached over and soothed the agitated Night Fury with a head rub. “What is he talking about?”

Terrorthi didn’t get a chance to answer, for Fishlegs whirled around on the balls of his feet, shouting before the dark-haired shieldmaiden could even open her mouth. “Speed Stingers!”

“Speed Stingers? Here?” brows furrowed together, only to rise into his hairline due to the nod of confirmation coming from Gothi’s niece.

“It all started just after nightfall,” Fishlegs began, his voice low and haunting while his eyes darted from side to side. “They don't fly but they're fast. Faster than any dragon I've ever seen, and they hide in the shadows. Scavengers, looking for anything they can find. One drop of their venom can paralyze a human or dragon in an instant. They move in a pack following a leader who directs them like a war chief. By the time Stoick ordered everybody to the cove, the entire village had been overrun.”

“Well, where are the Speed Stingers now?” Hiccup demanded, not sure if he should be alarmed for what this meant for Berk and her people or not. From the way Terrorthi was rolling her eyes, the blond Viking was overdoing the theatrics.

“Hiccup! Fishlegs isn't telling you the best part! We already got most of the Speed Stingers with our dragons!” the shieldmaiden, having enough of being ignored, scaled a barrel and jumped in before Fishlegs could speak over her again. Nonetheless, it was the way she had proudly slammed a small fist over her chest which had Hiccup’s lips twitching upwards despite his skepticism.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Terrorthi vigorously nodded, plopping her butt down on the barrel as she settled in to tell her side of the events. “During the evacuation, Gustav was a yak’s hair away from being frozen by one of the Speed Stingers but Snotlout was all heroic like and protected Gustav but Snotlout got stung instead and neither Fanghook nor Hookfang were happy that their riders were being attacked and they flamed up and there was fire everywhere, but not enough to burn the huts because that would have been bad but still, there were enough flames to push the Speed Stingers back which was enough of a distraction for the Guard to evacuate the villagers; only then, one of the Stingers went after Flystorm and Commander Huffnut was like, ‘no you don’t’ and used her shield to keep Flystorm from being paralyzed and then, Flystorm returned the favor by creating a barrier with a barrage of spine shots between Commander Huffnut when the Speed Stinger went after her instead and it was really neat!

“It was so cool because after constantly watching Commander Huffnut and Flystorm at each other’s throats all the time, fighting each other, they finally came together as a team and worked with each other like Astrid and Stormfly do but it was even better when they teamed up with Astrid and Stormfly to herd the Speed Stingers away from the village with their spine shots and Gruffnut and Master Typhan pushed the wild dragons towards the Northern Mountains with their own dragons’ fire while Neðan and I created some tunnels under a few of the Stingers that managed to break away, it was funny when they fell into the tunnels and I giggled, but they must have heard me because then we were being chased through the tunnels, but don’t worry, we were okay because we came out of the ground right in front of the caves the others were herding the Speed Stingers into and Ruffnut and Tuffnut saved me with a cloud of gas that they exploded as soon as I was through, while sending the nasty Stingers chasing us flying through the air and into the cave and once they were through, Jackson pushed a biiigg rock off the mountaintop to block the cave so they couldn’t get back out but the rock wasn’t big enough so Mulch and Bucket are guarding the partially blocked entrance with Scauldy so if they tried to come out, they could send them back in with a few warning shots.

“It was amazing!” Terrorthi finished, vibrating with excitement as she jumped down from the barrel. Hiccup was just relieved to see her taking a few big breaths seeing as there was a real fear of her passing out due to spewing the entire story out in one breath.

“The Speed Stingers are caught?” Hiccup slowly asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t push the girl over the edge. He was a little surprised when instead of going off again, the dark-haired shieldmaiden bowed her head and sheepishly dug the tip of her boot in the wooden flooring.

“Not all of them,” she admitted dejectedly.

“There’s a few of them still in the village,” Jackson added, landing next to Terrorthi after having dropped down from above and, it just went to show how used to the Druid Hiccup was that instead of jumping back with a screech—unlike Fishlegs—the Night Fury rider simply smiled, relieved to see Jackson looking to be in perfect health once again. “Finn, Piglegs, and Puffnut are using the Terrible Terrors assigned to them—along with Pain and Sharpshot—to do an aerial patrol, looking for the missing Speed Stingers while Terrorthi has had Neðan go underground to find them through the vibrations in the earth. So far, we’ve managed to round up three more of them.”

“Really? Did Neðan get that nasty one that tried to eat me?” the tiny shieldmaiden perked up, producing a delighted chuckle from Jackson which in turn had Hiccup flushing faintly.

“Sorry to disappoint, but Typhan detained that one with Firefang. They kept it cornered until some of the Dewdrop Faeries—I believe he said it was Nyx and Fury—could use some of their Nightshade to put the dragon to sleep. Torch and Snuffnut scared a Speed Stinger they found preying upon one of the villagers’ yaks into running straight for the mountains and into the cave with the others for protection.

"Gruffnut seemed very proud of his nephew for accomplishing such a feat but not so much as the pride he expressed when the twins got another by blowing up Silent Sven’s yard and I definitely wasn’t involved with that. Nope, not I,” Jackson explained, the last part bringing a wicked grin to his face. “We know there is at least one more evading capture and until it’s caught, the villagers are stuck in the cove.”

“The chief didn’t want to risk the villagers coming back to the village until we got all of the Speed Stingers rounded up,” Fishlegs butted in, having gotten over his scare from the brunet’s abrupt appearance. “For now, we’re fine. Speed Stingers are nocturnal, so when the sun goes down, then we’ll be in trouble.”

“Actually, that’s what I came to tell you,” Jackson said, idly twirling his staff. “The`Nuts have come up with a plan. Commander Huffnut thinks by capturing their leader, we can use him to lure the rest of the pack away from Berk.”

Fishlegs snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolled his eyes. “And just how are we supposed to do that?”

A giant grin spread across the brunet’s face. “No idea. I’m just the messenger, here to tell you we’re to meet up at Finn’s hut.”

“But what about Meatlug?” the patronizing tone in the blond Viking’s voice vanished, replaced by a petulant whine as blue eyes glanced around in fear of a Speed Stinger popping out of the shadows at any moment to attack.

“What about Meatlug?” vivid green eyes glanced between the trio, feeling slightly left out.

“That is something you’ll have to see for yourself,” Terrorthi answered skipping out the door, where she pivoted on her foot and turned her head upwards.

Following the young girl, Hiccup found himself outside, staring up at the Ingermans’ rooftop where the missing Gronckle was located. It was obvious Meatlug was paralyzed, what with her front forepaw raised, exposing rock-hard claws, while her mouth was frozen open as if she was in mid-roar before a Speed Stinger got in a lucky strike. It was a wonder she hadn’t toppled off the roof with how precariously she stood at the edge of the rafters.

“Just look at her up there, so majestic,” Fishlegs whispered in revere with his gaze—heavy with grief—fixed on the petrified dragon.

Vivid green eyes blinked a few times incredulously. “How did I miss that?”

“I have no idea,” Jackson shrugged as he strolled over to stand on the other side of Terrorthi. Leaning up against his staff, slender fingers began to toy with the crystal as the Gronckle rider continued.

“She tried to draw them away so I could escape. I just couldn't leave her,” the Gronckle rider regaled them forlornly, causing the others to stare at him as the Lament of Meatlug went on and on.

“Is he okay? I’m not a dragon expert or anything, but even I know Meatlug’s not dead. Then again, with the way Fishlegs is behaving, I kinda feel the need to get a pyre ready or something,” the brunet turned to Hiccup with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s fine,” Hiccup shook his head in fond exasperation. “He gets this way sometimes, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Good to know,” Jackson grinned, the two of them silently watching as Terrorthi went over to the blond Viking and awkwardly patted him on the side in comfort. She was rewarded for her good deed by being swept up into a crushing hug which had her feet flailing as she fought to reach the ground.

Hearing footsteps behind them, Hiccup tore his gaze away from the brunet’s poorly concealed chuckles to see Trader Johann making his way towards the small group. “How did we miss that?”

Jackson all but leapt out of his skin at the unfamiliar voice, his shoulders tensing as he whirled around, staff held firmly in hand. Amber eyes, after taking in the new arrival’s appearance, darted away from Johann and back towards the Head of the Dragon Academy with a look of askance. It took a moment for it to click the Druid was looking to him for guidance, but when it did, Hiccup felt his heart jump, racing faster than any Speed Stinger while simultaneously making him feel light as a feather.

“I don’t believe you’ve met Trader Johann before now, have you, Jackson?” Typhan asked, seemingly appearing in a gust of warm air but must have come from down the road.

“I don’t believe so, no,” the Druid answered, relaxing only marginally and Hiccup couldn’t really fault him. Not when the trader’s usually laid-back posture stiffened as he glared daggers at the Head of Berk’s Crafts Guild.

“Master Craftsman Typhan,” Trader Johann greeted tersely.

“Trader Johann,” the dark-haired man responded in kind. His voice was soft and calm like always yet there was a bit of disdain held within. He then dismissed the trader completely and turned towards Hiccup. “It is good to see you well, Hiccup. I’m glad your journey turned out to be a successful endeavor, no matter how much it would have pleased me if it weren’t so. Fortunately, I come baring fairer news; the last of the Speed Stingers has been detained and taken to the caves. Commander Huffnut has requested that we regroup there instead of Finn’s hut to further flush out our plans to liberate us from the nuisances.” Fathomless eyes glanced over Hiccup’s shoulder at Johann. “Well, one of the nuisances that currently plagues Berk’s shores.”

“Why I never!” the trader huffed, stomping a foot. Other than that little show of indignation, Johann remained remarkably quiet. It was something the chief’s son would have to remember for future reference.

“But what about Meatlug? I can’t just leave her here,” Fishlegs whimpered, trembling at the very thought of leaving the Gronckle behind.

“We’ve got that covered!” Snuffnut shouted from above, causing the group to crane their heads back to even catch a glimpse of Torch flying directly above them. “Come on Torch, let’s give Miss Meatlug a little helping claw.”

“He’s flying Torch?” Hiccup asked as he watched the boy carefully maneuver the large Typhoomerang down. He wasn’t as successful as the original Dragon Riders were on their first flight on their dragon and Torch’s tail ended up breaking one of the decorative Deadly Nadder heads carved onto an adjacent hut, sending wood and snow crashing to the ground. The boy had the decency to look ashamed for the damage they caused but he wasn’t discouraged. After a more few false starts, he finally managed to navigate Torch in position for him to pick up Meatlug with his hind legs.

“Of course, most of the Dragon Rider Trainees are riding their dragons. It was out of necessity they had to learn,” Jackson replied with a grin and Hiccup found himself smiling back as they bore witness to Fishlegs scrambling to climb up the side of the hut, only to slide down when he grabbed nothing but snow a few times before reaching the top and catching a ride with Torch. Once the heavyset Viking was settled on the Typhoomerang’s back, Snuffnut let out a whoop as Torch took off while Fishlegs’s screams could be heard long after they were gone.

“Wait for me!” Terrorthi shouted, before letting out an ear-piercing whistle which had both Hiccup and Johann wincing. There was a rumble as the ground shifted beneath their feet before Neðan burst through the foundation a foot in front of a very unimpressed-looking shieldmaiden wearing a stern look on her face. “I hope you filled in any tunnels you made. We don’t want a repeat of Astrid—or anyone for that matter. Although, icky Speed Stingers are okay, I guess—falling through one of your holes again, now do we?”

The Whispering Death grumbled but nodded in understanding, causing the girl to grin. “Good, glad we had this talk. Now come on, we don’t want Snuffnut to leave us behind, after all, you’re clearly the better dragon.”

Neðan preened at the compliment, waiting just long enough for Terrorthi to climb on his back before taking off after the Typhoomerang.

“We better head on back as well,” the Druid commented airily, already in the process of mounting Toothless who just happened to be at his side, munching on a few of Jackson’s dragon treats. “I’ll show you the way.”

“You just want to fly Toothless,” Hiccup shook his head but climbed on after the brunet just the same.

“Me? Noooo, I’d never,” Jackson denied as he tucked his staff down the back of his cloak diagonally. “Come on, Toothless, let’s have some fun!”

Hiccup hurried to grab onto the brunet as the Night Fury shot up into the air. Jackson let out a delighted shout, mirroring the chirrup of pleasure coming from the black dragon.

“Hey! What about me?” Trader Johann yelled, waving his hands as he tried in vain to chase down the Dragon Riders. He slowed to a stop when he realized the teenagers were too far to hear him. His hands dropped to his side as his shoulders slumped in defeat, and the man let out a long-suffering sigh. “What am I going to do?”

“I would be willing to take you to the cove,” Typhan spoke up, serenely strolling past the slumped-over trader.

“Yeah, and how long will it take for us to get there?” Johann grumbled as he reluctantly followed the craftsman. He stopped dead, having run into something when rounding the corner, and was seized with the most dreadful of fears when whatever he’d bumped into moved. Slowly eyes traveled up—and up and up—to come face-to-snout with a very menacing Monstrous Nightmare growling at him. “Mommy.”

“Are you coming or not? Firefang won’t wait forever,” Typhan asked from on top of said Monstrous Nightmare.


“Fishlegs, what's the deal with this paralysis? How long does it last?” Hiccup inquired as the trio of dragons flew towards the rendezvous point.

“I don't know, Hiccup. There's nothing about it in The Book of Dragons or Bork's papers. They shouldn’t even be on Berk according to Bork’s papers. How do you think the Speed Stingers got here? They can't fly,” Fishlegs whimpered as Torch dropped down a good ten feet all of a sudden and for no apparent reason. Snuffnut strove to correct the dragon, which only resulted in them wobbling back and forth as they flew.

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy thought about the sheets of ice he had passed by as he flew out to rescue Trader Johann. “If I had to guess, I would say it was because the ocean is frozen solid, creating an ice bridge from their island to ours.”

“An ice bridge, huh? There’s an idea. We could lure them across the ice bridge and back to where they came from,” Jackson commented as he shifted Toothless’s tailfin when Hiccup nudged him and their own flight became a little smoother. “Sorry, Toothless.”

“And how are we going to catch this lead Speed Stinger?” Fishlegs asked, not looking so good as Torch weaved back and forth for no discernable goal other than to make the Gronckle rider turn green.

“Like he said, he has no idea. It’s Commander Huffnut’s idea,” Terrorthi replied from the other side of Torch.

“Right you are, Terrorthi,” Jackson called out with laughter in his voice, banking Toothless to the right and heading for the base of the Northern Mountains. Hiccup leaned over, catching his first glimpse of the tiny-looking group of people and dragons waiting outside of one of the mountain’s many caverns.

As they descended, Jackson didn’t hesitate to ask for some assistance in landing on the unfamiliar rocky terrain which the Night Fury rider happily provided. The Druid did a decent job handling Toothless as they touched down without a hitch. In contrast, Torch—who accidentally dropped Meatlug a good ten feet, earning a growl of displeasure from the Gronckle—wasn’t so good.

“Look who we found,” Jackson called out as Astrid and Commander Huffnut headed for the newly arrived dragons.

“Hiccup!” the blonde shieldmaiden smiled, throwing herself at the dismounting auburn-haired teenager to hug him tightly. If such a thing occurred a year prior, Hiccup would have gone redder than his father’s hair while stuttering out some nonsense. But it wasn’t a year ago. Instead, the Night Fury rider politely returned the hug before releasing the shieldmaiden to survey the rest of the group.

“How’s everyone doing?”

“Everyone’s fine. Well, except for…” Astrid trailed off, turning towards a group of boulders in a semicircle where Snotlout was propped up in an unnaturally stiff position. Not too far in front of the brunet Viking, Gustav stood guard; his small arms crossed over an equally unimpressive chest. It was apparent the boy wasn’t letting anyone near the older Monstrous Nightmare rider without a fight, not that it would be much of a fight if anyone dared to press on. “Actually, when you think about it, it’s really not so bad.”

There was a grunt from Snotlout as the brunet Viking wriggled himself forward enough to tip over. Before he could hit the ground, Gustav caught the larger brunet and pushed him back upright. The young boy then turned and glared at Astrid for making such a comment which almost had his hero falling over.

“Movement! This is very good. It means the paralysis is only temporary,” Fishlegs enthusiastically squealed from his place by Meatlug’s side, rubbing circles over her scales. “That means you’re going to be alright girl!”

“Hiccup,” Commander Huffnut greeted, bowing slightly to him. “Glad you could make it. We were able to contain the threat and are working on a plan to relocate the Speed Stingers.”

“Uh, that’s good, er… Commander. I hear you plan on capturing the leader and use him to lure them away from Berk,” Hiccup nodded his head, not used to the respect the older shieldmaiden was openly showing him.

“Yes, we’ve already completed stage one of the operation,” Huffnut informed, walking over to where Skully and Scauldy stood with their riders. The commander nodded to Mulch and the short Viking moved to the side, allowing her access to a tall structure covered with a blanket. When the fabric was pulled to the side, Hiccup got his first glimpse at the dragons terrorizing his home.

Inside was a dark green dragon only slightly taller than Bucket—who stood on the other side of the cage—with sail-like appendages on his head and the back of his hind legs. His front legs were short and stubby while the tiny wings on the back of his body wouldn’t give the dragon flight capabilities but the young inventor could tell they acted as a counterweight to help the creature balance as he ran at excessive speeds. A red barbed stinger at the tip of the dragon’s tail was positioned to strike through the cage if given the chance.

“We’ve already caught the leader. He was easily identified as he was the only Speed Stinger with red tribal-like markings. With some coaching, the Terrible Terrors wrapped ropes around the leader while the pack slept and carried him out of the cave,” the commander informed them as Jackson inched closer to the cage to examine the new dragon. Thankfully, Bucket pulled him out of the way when the dragon lashed out with his stinger. “We are endeavoring to figure out how to relocate them now but due to their inability to fly, most of the dragon contingency plans we have in place won’t work. If we knew how they got to Berk, then we might be able to come up with a feasible strategy.”

“They came across the ocean, it was frozen over and they used the ice as a bridge,” Hiccup absentmindedly informed the commander, amazed the Dragon Rider Trainees had accomplished so much in the short amount of time he had been gone. “Jackson thinks we can lure them back to their island the same way they came, over the ice.”

“The idea has merit. We’ll have to wait until sundown for the other Speed Stingers to wake, but it could work,” Huffnut nodded, rubbing her chin with a thoughtful expression on her face. “If you’ll excuse me Hiccup, I have some preparations to make. Gruffnut, I need your help securing a line to that cage,” giving him another bow, the Guard Commander departed to get her brother to lend a hand, forcefully if necessary.

“Terrorthi, Snuffnut, could you please see what’s keeping Ruffnut and Tuffnut? They were supposed to get some food while I got you guys,” Jackson asked the children busy pulling at his cloak and whining about their empty stomachs.

“We can do that,” Snuffnut scampered over to the Stoker-class dragon’s side and clambered up onto Torch’s back. The large dragon turned his head and gave the struggling boy a push. “Thanks, Torch.”

“We’ll be back with food before you know it,” Terrorthi agreed, having an easier time climbing up on the Whispering Death’s back.

True to their word, they came back with arms laden with food only minutes later. They even brought back the missing twins with them, whose arms were also overflowing with supplies, while Barf and Belch carried a large cooking pot filled with water between their two heads.

“When I told you to go get food, I meant already cooked,” Huffnut shook her head when she saw her younger siblings returning with the provisions.

“It will be cooked once Jackson’s through with it,” Ruffnut defended as Barf lowered his head for the blonde Viking to climb down.

“Yeah,” their brother agreed, barely keeping himself from face-faulting into the snow when his boot got stuck in the stirrup.

Rolling amber eyes, Jackson didn’t bother to complain he was being forced to cook for them yet again and began making a stew. By the time he was done, the paralysis ran its course through both Snotlout and Meatlug. The former of which complained nonstop until the Druid shoved a warm bowl of stew into his chilled hands. When the sounds coming from the cage began echoing from the cave just as twilight started to set, Huffnut ordered all of them onto their dragons and into the air.

The Commander ordered Flystorm to hoist the cage up by the ropes Gruffnut hooked up, yet she didn’t lift the cage more than a foot from the ground. Instead, she waited for the other Speed Stingers to slowly, cautiously exit the cave once the final rays of sunlight disappeared. Only then did Huffnut have the Deadly Nadder lift off, but by then it was too late.

One of the newly awakened Speed Stingers made an impossible leap and struck Flystorm, catching the dragon in the side. The venom worked instantly, paralyzing the dragon as both he and his rider went down hard. Mulch—on the back of Scauldy with Bucket tightly grasping his shoulders with large meaty hands—pressed the Tidal-class dragon into action, diving forward to catch the fallen duo.

“Wait! Don’t!” Hiccup shouted and surprisingly enough, Bucket pulled back on Mulch’s shoulders causing the shorter fisherman to rein in Scauldy and stopping them before they got too close to the ground. Thus, well within the Speed Stingers’ reach. Feeling all eyes on him, the chief’s son didn’t think about the older Vikings present but barked out orders as he did every other time the Academy members dealt with wild dragons. “Gruffnut, have Skully retrieve the cage. His bone armor should protect him from the Speed Stinger’s venom. Ruff, Tuff, cover Huffnut!”

“On it! We’re coming, Sis! Incoming!” Tuffnut roared as Barf let out a stream of gas, flying around the down dragon and his older sister.

“Here we go!” Ruffnut bellowed as Belch created a spark and ignited the gas, creating a ring of fire around them.

The Speed Stingers closing in on Huffnut and Flystorm were forced back by the flames. A few of the dragons backed up, not in fright, but to make a running start. They were going to jump the fire. A distress call from their leader halted their plan, drawing the Speed Stingers' attention towards the caged dragon being hauled off by Skully and Gruffnut. The sight of their leader in distress was all it took for them to change directions, running around the circle of fire to give chase.

“Yeah! Go Gruffnut,” Tuffnut cheered his brother on triumphantly.

“Great plan,” Jackson grinned into the Night Fury rider’s ear as they flew after the Boneknapper. Already forgetting about their own close call with the Speed Stingers a moment prior as one struck Hiccup’s metal foot and another was batted away with the Druid’s staff before it could get Toothless. “There, the ice bridge.”

“Oh no,” the Head of the Academy groaned, watching the frayed ropes snap, sending the cage crashing down on the thick layer of ice. The cage door broke and within seconds, the lead Speed Stinger was free. Hissing to his followers, the underlings surrounded their leader and turned on the members of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. As one, they hissed threateningly, tails rising with their stingers positioned to strike.

“Hookfang!” Snotlout shouted as he came in from the left.

“Fanghook!” Gustav followed his idol’s example, flying just off Hookfang’s wing.

“Firefang,” Typhan spoke coming from the opposite direction.

“Fire,” the three Monstrous Nightmare riders spoke as one. Their dragons blasted the ice a few feet in front of the hostile dragons. The flames melted the sheet of ice, separating the pack of Speed Stingers from Berk and sending them adrift.

The Head of the Academy turned towards the trio of Monstrous Nightmares, impressed with the hastily thought-out and perfectly executed plan. “Nice shooting.”

“Ha! No problem, Hiccup,” Snotlout boasted, puffing out his chest while Hookfang did a victorious loop, roaring.

“Yeah, no problem, Hiccup,” Gustav attempted to copy the brunet Viking and while Fanghook’s combat flying was above average, his trick maneuvers definitely needed work. The adolescent Monstrous Nightmare nearly lost his rider at the peak of the loop and hastily abandoned the maneuver to catch the plummeting brunet.

“The praise should all go to Firefang,” Typhan patted said Monstrous Nightmare on the head which earned him a grumble of pleasure.

Pride welled up inside Hiccup at seeing the Dragon Riders and the Trainees. “Let’s go home.”

The ride back was spent in an animated conversation between the children and Jackson which drew all of the Dragon Riders in at one point. It was pleasant and the short ride seemed even shorter as they arrived back on Berk to find the villagers trekking through the snow and towards their huts, ready to sleep in their own beds.

“Dad!” Hiccup called out, jumping from Toothless’s back to join his father and Thornado. “You’re okay.”

“Nasty creatures, those Speed Stingers, but it takes more than them to keep me down,” Stoick grinned fiercely. “So how did everything turn out?”

“Very well actually,” the auburn-haired teenager replied with confidence, looking over to the Dragon Rider Trainees clamoring together as they recounted their first successful mission with each other. “They’ve all grown a lot in the little time they’ve had.”

“Just like their predecessors,” the chief stated, looking down at his son with the pride of a father.

“Hiccup,” Jackson came running up behind him, causing the two Haddocks to turn to the brunet. “The Speed Stingers are gone, your first class of Dragon Rider Trainees have had a baptism by fire, and it’s the first snow of the season! It’s time to celebrate!”

“And how are we supposed to celebrate? It’s too late to organize any sort of feast and we’re all too tired to do much of anything else,” the Night Fury rider pointed out, missing the mischievous gleam in amber eyes.

“Like this,” the Druid said, pulling his free arm from behind his back and shoving the snowball into Hiccup’s face. His silvery laughter echoed throughout the town as he ran away. “Snowball fight!”

Hiccup stood there for a moment stunned, watching as Snuffnut, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut all immediately joined in and armed themselves with balls of white powder. The trio of Thorstons first targets to be bombarded with the snow just happened to be the other three members of their family: Puffnut, Huffnut, and Gruffnut. Their little family feud spread like a wildfire until all of the Dragon Riders and the Trainees were declaring war on one another.

Feeling a push from behind him, the Night Fury rider glanced up at his father who raised one bushy eyebrow before gesturing his head over to the group enjoying themselves in the white powder.

“Go on, have fun,” Stoick encouraged and his son didn’t waste any time in scooping up a handful of snow and joining the fray. His snowball hit brown hair with deadly accuracy.

“Hey!” Jackson turned around and glared at the chief’s son, before grinning and tackling the laughing auburn-haired Viking into a snowbank. There was a moment of silence before both of them burst out in laughter which ended abruptly when they were both pelted by snowballs. Amber eyes swept the area, landing on the culprits—Tuffnut and Snuffnut—before looking back at Hiccup with a grin on his face. “Join me in getting my revenge?”

Hiccup hesitated before nodding his head, his own grin forming on his face. “You bet.”


“I don’t get you,” Hiccup sighed, ushering the shivering Druid through the door and into the Haddocks’ hut, Toothless trailing not far behind. Once they were all in, the auburn-haired Viking quickly closed the door to prevent any more of the heavily falling snow from coming inside.

“What’s not to get?” Jackson asked quickly making his way over to the kindling fire, propping his staff up against the wall as he went. “I tend to speak my mind and do as I please.”

The Dragon Rider cringed, remembering some of Jackson’s confrontations with Dagur, knowing how true the offhanded comment was. The brunet tended to speak without regard for the consequences of his words which had gotten on the nerves of some of the teenage Vikings not associated with the Dragon Riders. Jackson usually got himself out of the situations he got himself into, but there’d been a few times that one or more of the members of the Dragon Training Academy were forced to step in.

“I don’t get why you love winter so much. You spend hours having fun in the snow, yet you hate the cold. It doesn’t make sense that your favorite season is winter,” Hiccup said as he gathered a few logs from the pile before throwing them onto the hearth. Toothless waited for him to step back before letting out a low-level plasma blast which had the logs bursting into flames. “Thanks, Bud.”

Jackson chuckled as he pulled off his equally snow-laden and drenched cloak and began to shake out some of the snow and water. “How can you not love winter? It’s the best!”

“There’s snow for one,” the Dragon Rider pointed out, also taking off his fur vest to shake off the white fluffy flakes clinging to the article of clothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brunet hanging his cloak up by the fire to dry out.

“All the better for snowball fights and making snow angels,” the Druid replied, sitting as close to the fire as possible without getting burnt, and got to work pulling off his waterlogged boots.

“The days are shorter and the nights are longer,” Hiccup continued, hanging his fur vest next to the blue and white cloak dripping on the floor and bent down to remove his sole boot.

“Means there is less work to be done and more time for fun,” Jackson retorted as he leaned closer to the flames. The brunet started when something brushed up against his back and turned to find Toothless curled up behind him. The dragon gave him one of his toothless smiles and made a gurgle-like purring noise which had the Druid relaxing, returning the smile. He proceeded to scoot back, leaning up against the Night Fury in the hope of stealing some of the dragon’s ample body heat to quell his shivers.

“The cold,” the Viking finally added knowing for a fact Jackson was highly susceptible to the cold, the quivering a clear indication. Sitting down next to the Druid, he too leaned back against his dragon and began to pet Toothless’s head in between his ear-plates. “You are always complaining you’re cold.”

“I'm not used to being cold,” Jackson grumbled through a loud yawn, pulling his feet underneath him. The new position had his shoulder brushing up against Hiccup’s, not that the brunet noticed. The auburn-haired teenager, on the other hand, was all too aware of the contact and was currently looking up at the ceiling in hopes of hiding the color seeping into his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, in Berk it snows nine months out of the year, and hails the other three, so it’s pretty much always cold,” Hiccup did his best to speak normally, watching as the firelight flickered across the ceiling as he waited for the brunet to lob back another counter. None came. Instead, the light pressure on his shoulder increased and little puffs of air tickled his suddenly all-too-warm skin. Turning his head, all the Viking could see was a thick mess of brown hair and closed eyelids. “Huh.”

The chief’s son had no idea what to do, nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He wasn’t sure if he should move or leave the Druid as he was. He did notice that Jackson’s shivering had finally subsided.

“I guess you’re right,” Hiccup concluded with a sigh of defeat, leaning his head against the brunet’s. “Winter is the best season. It gives me the excuse to be close to you.” 

Notes:

Fluff is not my strong suit. Please tell me how it turned out in your opinion.

Chapter 41: On the Verge of Change

Notes:

So, apparently, I do okay at writing fluff from the reactions I received. Good to know which makes me sad to say there isn't any in this chapter because as Genesisfreak pointed out, there are only 10 chapters (including this one) left to wrap everything up in a neat bow. This chapter is one of the wrapping-up chapters. Still, I hope you like the twist.

Chapter Text

“Remember to listen to your Uncle Gruffnut and Aunt Huffnut. If neither of them are around, listen to Master Typhan,” Puffnut drilled her son who was currently too busy bouncing up and down on the dock’s weatherworn boards, watching the hustle and bustle going on around him to pay any attention to his mother. “Snuffnut, are you listening to me?”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll look after him,” Mulch attempted to appease the worried mother as he carried a large basket onto the longboat.

“And I’ve got Torch too!” Snuffnut pointed out, looking over the side to where said Typhoomerang was harassing Scauldy and Skully as the older dragons assisted various Vikings in loading the boat up with supplies and other items they would need for their journey.

“That you do,” his mother acknowledged, ruffling the boy’s blond hair. “You’ll make a fine Dragon Rider one day.”

“Just like Aunt Ruffnut and Uncle Tuffnut?” Snuffnut asked, tugging at the frayed edges of his tunic, a bashful smile on his face.

Kissing the top of her son’s head, Puffnut mumbled into the boy’s brow. “Even better.”

“Mo~om,” Gustav’s whine covered up whatever the blonde child murmured in reply. The other Dragon Rider Trainee was also bidding farewell to his family members, only the brunet was being smothered by Mrs. Larson with her free arm while cradling his baby sister, Hildegard, with the other.

“I just want to make sure you change your undergarments every day! I’m not going to be there to remind you,” the woman chided a heavily blushing Gustav, pulling a pair of woolen undergarments from his satchel and waving them around in the air. The boy failed at snatching them away, not being quick enough or tall enough to accomplish the task. Thankfully, Fanghook was able to reach the garment of clothing. Unfortunately, Fanghook also set them aflame, incinerating them within seconds.

“Alright Neðan, remember what Mom and Aunt Gothi told us. If it comes after us with the intent to kill, kill it first,” Terrorthi said as the tiny girl headed onto the boat with the Whispering Death following loyally after. The two turned just before the gangplank to wave goodbye to her parents one last time before being probed forward by the end of a staff.

“I am a little concerned with you Vikings and your philosophies,” Jack remarked, standing to the side of the gangplank, tapping Terrorthi once more to get her to move along and prevent her from blocking the path of the other Vikings.

Across from the Druid stood Toothless next to his rider and Jack couldn’t help but mentally softened as he watched Hiccup lend a helping hand to the little girl to steady her as she walked up the plank. The Night Fury, for his part, kept from growling at the Whispering Death following after her, which was a big step for him. In its entirety, it was rather sweet on both their parts, not to mention heartwarming that they’d come to see the Dragon Rider Trainees off in the first place.

“And what, if you Druids were attacked, you would just stand there and let yourselves be killed?” Hiccup asked, taking Snuffnut’s bag as he climbed aboard the boat before handing it back.

“Actually, yes. Most Druids are pacifists and would rather be killed than kill. There are exceptions to the rule, like the Catha—a select sect of Priests in the Old Religion exceptionally skilled at using magic to torture and kill—but the Taliesin clan has never been a part of that sect.  Doesn’t mean we haven’t called on the Catha a time or two for protection though. They saved a number of Druids during the Great Purge, even when captured and tortured they didn’t give in.  Guess being trained since birth to resist all forms of physical pain can come in handy,” Jack shook his head, resurfacing from the newly awakened memory of his mother teaching him the history of the Warrior Priests that protected their people. Not that they were around when he needed them in Hawthorne.

He had feverously wished one of the Catha would come and save them from the man who was, unfortunately, his father. However, it was only later in life his mother informed him the last Catha died in the time of King Arthur. Most Druid clans were eradicated during the Great Purge whilst others never truly recovered from the loss of their clansmen and over time, more clans died off. Jack never met another Druid during his first life as Jackson Overland and had never encountered one in his whole time as Jack Frost either. For all he knew, he was the last Druid.

Amber eyes glanced up—trying to find something to distract him from his depressing train of thoughts—to find Hiccup staring at him in disbelief while Toothless’s ear-plates were slumped against his head. “What?”

“You would stand there and let yourself be killed?” the Viking asked, his voice sounding weak and unwell. Though it was the Night Fury’s sickly grumble which drew Jack’s concern; he was only pacified Toothless was fine when Hiccup glanced at the dragon before those vivid green eyes darted back to him. If the Dragon Rider wasn’t concerned with Toothless’s behavior, then there was no need for the brunet to worry either.

Appeased Toothless was okay, Jack was forced to think about how to best answer the question posed because while he was a Druid, he was also a Guardian. “No, I wouldn’t just stand there and allow myself to be killed.  I do have some self-preservation. But I wouldn’t kill one of Midgard’s denizens either. I’m a Guardian; I will protect those who need it but the extent of killing I do is hunting and I don’t let the loss of life go to waste.”

“That’s a relief,” Hiccup let out a huge sigh as Toothless slumped down onto the docks, covering his eyes with his paws.

“You’re both so weird,” the ex-spirit rolled his eyes, not understanding why the Night Fury and his rider were so worried.

“Look who’s talking,” Hiccup shot back. He seemed startled by his own words for a moment after they left his mouth but that didn’t stop either of them from breaking out in laughter. “You know you don’t have to go with them, right? Commander Huffnut doesn’t believe the rumors of the Berserkers’ secret weapon are true. None of her sources could confirm the weapon’s existence and she thinks it was a trap meant for us. That Dagur intentionally leaked the information to Trader Johann—knowing he’d pass it along—to lure us to Outcast Island and ambush us. He just didn’t take into account the storm would keep Johann from delivering the message and for the delay to raise suspicion at the validity of Johann’s intel. Dad says Dagur's as crafty as he is crazy.”

“I agree with Huffnut and your father,” Jack said, tilting his head to the side slightly as the winds whispered the truth for him alone to hear.  It was indeed an ambush for the Dragon Riders, one which never took off since the winds riled up the storm and prevented Johann from reaching Berk, seriously pissing Dagur off. He would have to remember to do something nice for the winds in the near future to show his appreciation. “But that’s not why I’m going with them.”

“Then why are you going?”

“I’m going with them because while Commander Huffnut and the others search to confirm or disprove the existence of this nonexistent weapon, Mulch and Bucket are to drop the children and Typhan off at some of the neighboring villages to conduct trades. No offense to Typhan, but I don’t think he can handle all the children plus their dragons alone, so I’m going along to keep them safe.”

“And who’s going to keep you safe?”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. “There is Sharpshot, who has attached himself to my being for some inexplicable reason, not to mention Snotlout shoved Pain at me this morning, and the children do have their dragons coming with us as well. I’m pretty sure I have enough dragon protectors to keep me safe. That, and may I remind you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. There’s no need to worry.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the Viking rubbed the back of his head, glancing up at the green and purple Terrible Terrors perched up on the mast.

“I’m sure,” Jack gave the auburn-haired teenager a nod before crossing the gangplank himself. Pain let out a high-pitched screech, alerting those ashore the longboat was about to cast off soon. A few of the Vikings still onboard hurried off while the Druid leaned up against the side and looked over at Hiccup waiting on the docks. “We’ll be back before you know it and bring you some awesome souvenirs, right kiddies?”

“Right!” three voices echoed simultaneously from various positions around the deck.

“Wait,” Gustav said, pulling himself up from the basket he had been halfway leaning in and looking around at the other Dragon Rider Trainees. “What did we just agree to?”

“Getting presents for everyone,” Snuffnut said, slapping the taller boy on the back of his head.

“Everyone a board going a broad?” Mulch called out as Bucket started pulling up the gangplank. “Any dragons too big to sit on deck and can’t swim, you’d be flying behind us. That means you Skully, Torch.”

“I shall be flying with Firefang as well,” Typhan said as he mounted the Monstrous Nightmare and took off from the deck, the boat visibly rising out of the water at the loss of weight.

“Alright, then, we’re casting off! Scauldy, take us out,” the fishermen commanded as the Scauldron dove into the waters and grabbed the waiting ropes dangling over the side of the boat.

“Bye!” Jack called out as the longboat pulled out, waving to Hiccup and Toothless. The three children quickly ran to the side as they started pulling away, waving along with the brunet, shouting their own farewells to their family members and the Night Fury duo.

“Bye,” Hiccup yelled back, waving as well. Toothless shot a burst of plasma up into the air, creating a small firework display that had the children shouting in awe.


Jack shuffled and rolled over onto his back on the makeshift bed in the longboat’s cabin. Amber eyes stared up through the porthole and into the night since sleep seemed to be evading him. The children were fast asleep as were the majority of the adults but there were none of Sandy’s sweet dreams for him.

Outside the porthole, there were a few wisps of clouds in the night sky, allowing the ex-spirit a clear view of Manny’s rays. Staring at the glowing moon, Jack wondered what the other Guardians were currently doing in this time period. Were they even Guardians yet? Or were they deep in the frays of battle with Pitch, creating the moniker the ‘Big Four’?

Rolling onto his other side, Jack stared down at his hands. For over three hundred years, they were pale with no blemishes no matter what he did. Soft and smooth with faint traces of the blood vessels underneath the skin tainted blue rather than the healthy red. However, now, the veins carried blood through his whole body giving his skin a pink pigment which was obscured by his tan. There were calluses on both hands, many more on his right, from constantly holding his staff and a few scabs on his fingertips from working the leathers in the forge.

He had been in Berk—in this time frame—for nearly nine months by his calculations and things were different. Before this whole time travel mishap, he’d been a Guardian for four years and he’d felt more like an outsider than a part of the Guardians of Childhood. Other mystical and magical entities had still been referring to them as the ‘Big Four’. Always forgetting Jack Frost was there. He knew it wasn’t the Guardians' fault, but that was just one of the many things that bothered him.

Their last fight proved it. They were working together in perfect sync and by ‘they’, he meant the ‘Big Four’ while he—Jack Frost—was only an ineffective cog in their well-oiled machine. They weren’t used to fighting alongside him and he was too used to fighting alone. Jack tried to change, to fit in, but he never managed to work his way into their tight-knit group.

He rarely, if ever, saw any of the other Guardians outside of their meetings and when he did, it was because he’d gone to them. Not the other way around. They never came looking for him. Jack tried to force himself into their group in hopes he’d finally found a place to belong after more than three hundred years of solitude. He didn’t want to admit it—even to himself—but with all the time he had at the moment, he had more than enough time to think and the brunet didn’t like what he found.

The truth was he didn’t fit in with the Guardians.

The Seven Brightest Lights knew him better than his fellow Guardians did. With them, he felt like he was back in his home settlement in Burgess when it was called Hawthorne by the few families who lived there with no one else for miles around. When Jackson Overland looked after and entertained the younger children telling them new stories and assisting them with their problems and chores. During the days when he’d relied on his skills as a hunter-gatherer to feed his family and the nights when his mother would teach him and his sister about magic.

Yet, here on Berk, he’d spent every free minute searching for a way back to the future. Well, up until about a month ago when he was brought down by the Eel Pox virus. After he’d recovered, he never restarted his search. Jack hadn’t even realized he’d stopped looking until Hiccup asked why he was leaving, and he’d reassured the Viking he’d be coming back. It was a revelation he was still assimilating. 

In the future, the spirit had been ailing and hurt before, but he always dealt with it alone. Here there were a multitude of willing Vikings who would—and did—take care of him while he was incapacitated. Between Gobber and Finn, they ensured he ate something in the morning while the Dragon Riders ensured he ate at least another whole meal during midday. The latter had more to deal with the fact they were constantly begging him to cook than actually looking out for his health. Though they more than made up for it by forcing a third meal on him ‘to get some meat on his bones,’ but rarely pulled it off.  Two meals were more than enough, thank you very much.

The twins routinely joined him in telling stories to the children and they let him join them in causing a little mischief. He did help curb their more destructive behavior, much to all the Dragon Riders' delight, right up until the point one of them was caught in the trio’s pranks. Astrid, on the other hand, was the perfect training partner to keep his parkour skills up to par and helped improve his moves or create some new ones. Almost every morning after the Deadly Nadder and her rider finished their morning flight, the two would race through the forest on foot, forcing each other to do better while Stormfly flew overhead.

When he needed to transverse the forest to gather useful items or to check his snares, Snotlout was always willing to assist him. The burly Viking listened to him when he pointed out the magical aspects of Berk the Vikings took for granted and prattled on about magic in general, usually about another newly recalled lesson his mother used to teach him. Then there was Fishlegs who Jack routinely assisted in improving his footwork to better his swordsmanship skills and in turn, the Gronckle rider taught him more about the different dragons and their behaviors.

Lastly, there was Hiccup. The chief’s son had been there for him since the beginning, making him feel welcome in the new land. They might have had a rocky beginning, but that hadn’t stopped Hiccup from getting to know him. In fact, Jack thought their rocky beginning was the reason why the auburn-haired teenager tried so hard to get to know him.

What it all boiled down to was Jack never tried to fit in on Berk. He tried his hardest to get back to the future, but he’d ended up doing on Berk—seamlessly with no real knowledge—what he’d never been able to accomplish in the future. He had become a part of a team. There were people who had his back in and out of battle. They were his friends. Something he couldn’t recall ever having, even as Jackson Overland.

Sighing, the Druid gave up trying to reach Morpheus’s domain and slipped out of the makeshift sleeping quarters. Once on deck, he glanced around. He easily spotted Skully and Torch huddled together, sleeping with the two Terrible Terrors curled up on either dragon’s head. Scauldy was sleep-swimming behind the boat with a rope loosely tied around her neck, keeping her from swimming too far from the longboat.

He wasn’t the only one up either. Bucket was puttering around the deck silently, making sure they stayed on course. The Commander of the Berk Guard soared through the night sky on the back of Flystorm, leading the way, yet amber eyes took in the way the woman was slumped over the dragon’s back and concluded she was most likely dozing off. Behind the longboat, Typhan took up the rear with Firefang, the Titan Constellation leaning back to look up at the skies he once had been a part of.

“How are things up here?” Jack asked, coming to stand beside the tall blond Viking.

Bucket looked down at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded. “Good, though shouldn’t you be asleep Jackson?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing your duties as the Winter King, Mr. Vadderung?” the ex-spirit shot back, taking great pleasure in the fact the tall Viking actually turned his head and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. He made the composed Vadderung show emotions, score one for Jackson Overland.

His grin just widened when the two blue eyes glanced up at Typhan flying near them. It would seem the older man was worried the former Constellation would overhear them, confirming Jack’s suspicions that it wasn’t only Creatures of Magic who could sense other entities not of this planet.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” the Druid said, idly twirling his staff between his fingers. “Typhan is a Constellation.”

“He arrived with the Shadow Creatures,” the Viking pointed out and it took the brunet a moment to piece together what the man meant.

“Yeah, well, one tends to arrive with the Dream Pirates when one is their prisoner,” Jack supplied. When the blond continued to eye Typhan warily, the brunet shook his head at the poorly hidden suspicion being displayed. “Trust me, Typhan is an ally. Firefang wouldn’t have let him ride on his back if that wasn’t the case. So, if you don’t trust me, trust the dragons.”

Blue eyes looked back down at Jack and for one brief second, Bucket’s visage was replaced by that of Vadderung’s thunder-colored hair and one striking blue eye. “I trust you, Jackson. If you say he’s an ally, then I believe you.”

“Good, then maybe the two of you can get together and have your own little gathering. You could call it ‘Gods Who Masquerade as Midgardians with None Being the Wiser.’ I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” the brunet jokingly offered; however, his heart wasn’t really in it as amber eyes gazed out at the darkened ocean.

“Only if you were to join,” Vadderung glanced over at him with his one good eye and the former Guardian pretended not to notice as the man’s visage flickered.

“Tsk, tsk,” Jack clicked his tongue, “I am fully Midgardian and not a god, so I couldn’t join your little club.”

Two blue eyes rolled at him—which Jack counted as another tally for him—and majestically sat down on one of the closed barrels of water. “What gave me away?”

“Well, originally, I thought Puffnut might be you. You know,” Jack said motioning to his eye, “the whole one-eye thing and all. But, even if you did take on the appearance of a woman, you wouldn’t have had a child. So Snuffnut ruled that possibility out. That and it’s quite clear who they are descended from. Thorston. Thor. Not that hard to miss. Though, technically speaking, they’d still be related to you.”

“Very true, I shall have to inform my son of this the next time I see him,” the man said, nodding along. “If having two eyes threw you off my track, what was it which led you to believe ‘Bucket’ was me?”

“I admit the eyes were a bit of a brainteaser and your façade? Flawless, nothing like you, but you made one mistake,” the brunet began pacing back and forth in front of the blond. He was having great fun in explaining his methodology—which had the added benefit of pushing away some of his downheartedness from earlier—and felt a bit like the character Sherlock Holmes must have felt. “It was actually Gobber who helped clue me in on your identity.

“The symbol on Toothless’s tailfin, I know I’d seen it before. The rounded skull with horns and a set of three teeth on the top and a disjointed jaw with three teeth as well; it was distinctive and yet simple at the same time. I knew I had seen it before, but where? So, I asked Gobber about it, and he told me you were the one to design the insignia for the tailfin.

Insignia; that word struck a chord and instantly reminded me of a time when you showed me the very symbol. You told me it was the Insignia of Váli, a baby birthed by the human princess, Rindr, for the sole purpose of killing Höðr in revenge for accidentally murdering his half-brother, Baldr. A child forced to grow to adulthood in a single day to fulfill his destiny all that much sooner and yet you never mentioned anything more of him—his descendants yes, him no—despite him being one of your sons,” Jack concluded, rounding on the Viking and pointing his staff at the man accusingly.

Vadderung sighed heavily—three signs of emotions, Jack was really on a roll today—and shook his head. “I left him with his mother, to grieve with my wife for the loss of Baldr. Years later, I realized how foolish my actions were, but it was too late, Váli already passed on from this world to a place even I could not go. Yet, he left behind a family, a son who left behind his own family, and so on and so on until I was able to track down his descendants to a little island called Berk. I vowed then to keep watch over his descendants as penance for my foolishness. I should have never bore a son for the sole purpose of revenge; I condemned my own blood to a life of bloodshed because of my grief.”

Jack bit the bottom of his lip and lowered his head in mourning for Váli. After a quiet prayer for the departed, the brunet looked over at the hunched-over form of the blond Viking. It looked like he wasn’t the only one with disheartening thoughts this evening. Since Vadderung helped pull him out of his depression, it was his turn to do the same.

“Soooo, Hiccup is your grandson, removed a few generations or so,” the ex-spirit ventured a guess, which was rewarded with a nod. “On his father’s side or mother’s side? Because if it’s on his father’s side, that would mean Snotlout is your grandson too. Although, I can understand why you would never discretely give him Váli’s insignia as well, he’s too much of a Jorgenson to wear any other symbol.”

“You would be correct,” Vadderung acknowledged with a nod, a slow smile making its way across the man’s face. “Snotlout too is my grandson but—as you put it—he is too much of a Jorgenson to be considered a true descendant of Váli.”

“Huh, that I can see,” the brunet grinned, pleased he’d gotten the man to smile. “So, is it you or the winds I have to thank for those two instances of snow? I would have asked Typhan, but he didn’t know about me until recently which eliminates him as a suspect.”

“That would be all on the account of the winds. They wanted to help you and wouldn’t change their minds once made up,” Vadderung answered as a giant gust caught the sails and had the longboat surging forward.

“Isn’t that the case? For something so flexible, once they make up their minds, there is nothing to stop the winds from completing their tasks. No one can control the winds, no one,” Jack agreed, chuckling when the winds whipped around him and ruffled his clothing and hair.

“That is very true,” the Viking nodded with a knowing smile on his face.

The ex-spirit’s whole disposition changed in that instance. His laughter trailed off even when the winds continued to circle around him. Amber eyes dropped down as Jack turned around to lean up against the railing. His free hand reached back and pulled his hood over his head as he hunched over the side of the boat.

“I’m not going back, am I?”

The deck creaked behind him as a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. “You may. You may not.  If you do, it would not be for a very long time.”

“Magic already told you why I was sent here? To the past?”

“The night you first spoke to me, I was given a glimpse of your destiny.”

Jack waited, but when the man didn’t provide anything further, he looked over at him with pleading eyes. “Why am I here?”

The man kneeled down, so he was at eye level with him, his visage once again flickering before settling on that of Vadderung. “Magic has a plan for you, child, and even I am not privy to the entirety of it. What I have seen though, it is simple.  Magic sent you here to live; to give you the chance at the life you were denied in the future. Magic wants you to be happy.”

And wasn’t that the crux of the matter? The future was where he had come from, where he was a Guardian, and where he should belong. However, it was the past where he found acceptance, where he wasn’t a burden or a forgotten spirit left on his own for three hundred years. It was the past where he remembered his family—his beloved mother, Kári, and his treasured little sister, Flee—and his heritage, where he could once again practice the Druid customs he’d long forgotten. It was where he felt like he belonged.

It was where magic had sent him to find happiness.

The problem was, Jack was starting to believe magic was correct in its assumptions.

Chapter 42: Boom! Smoke Out

Chapter Text

“We’re back!” Snuffnut bounced up and down as the first real sight of Berk shown through the fog bank. The young boy would have fallen overboard if not for Gustav grabbing onto the back of his tunic. In turn, Terrorthi had to grab onto Fanghook’s rider’s vest or else he too would have been pulled overboard with the blond. Overall, the only reason all of them hadn’t gone over was due to Jack hooking his staff on the back of the Whispering Death rider’s collar and yanking the trio back. The children tumbled backwards into a pile at the Druid’s feet.

“Nice save,” Mulch patted the brunet on the arm as he walked past to help Bucket prepare to dock. “Bucket, get Scauldy to bring the boat around to the other side of the dock.”

“Will do Mulch,” the blond Viking replied as he leaned over the side railing and patted the Tidal-class dragon on the head. Upon seeing amber eyes looking at him, the man gave him an inconspicuous wink before presenting Scauldy with a few of Jack’s algae dragon treats. The dragon happily gobbled them down and then took the thick rope tied to the hull of the longboat presented to her. “Take us in easy now, girl.”

Scauldy let out a little whine around the rope in her mouth and nodded. As she pulled them to the docks, Typhan and Gruffnut took it upon themselves to take the sails down, starting from the top and working their way down with the assistance of Firefang and Skully. It might have been a little easier going with Huffnut’s help, but she had already flown ahead on Flystorm a few leagues back to deliver her report to Stoick. Still, they managed to make do between the two of them with a little help from the Titan Constellation’s solar winds.

As for Jack, he had the most difficult task of them all. He was in charge of keeping the children in line and had them helping by making a game of it. Their dragons assisted as much as the giant creatures could, but Torch and Fanghook ended up getting into a brawl and were forced to fly behind the longboat as penance. Neðan was the only dragon allowed to stay on deck but kept out of the way by napping in a corner.

“My baby!” Mrs. Larson cried out, launching herself onto the longboat and at Gustav before they had even managed to dock.

“Ah! Fanghook! Save me!” the boy pleaded from under his mother’s weight, but the young Monstrous Nightmare was smarter than that. He didn’t even bother landing and took off in the direction of the Academy.

“Aunt Gothi,” Terrorthi squealed, throwing herself at her allusive aunt and allowing Jack to catch his first glimpse of the woman he’d heard so much about but never met in person. She wasn’t anything like the brunet had imagined.

From what he’d heard of her, Gothi was larger than life. In reality, she was a very short elderly lady who was hunched over to the point she was only barely taller than her niece. The woman’s wavy grey hair was tied together in braided pigtails which rested underneath a Viking helmet with a pair of curly horns. Faint blue tattoos of dragons peaked out beneath the brown vest sleeve of her left shoulder and Jack had a feeling the worn leather tunic and red pants covered up a number of other tattoos as well. Heavy boots and fur arm warmers kept frail arms and feet warm, but it was the wooden staff twice her size with a dragon’s roaring head carved at the top and dragons’ teeth tied to it that held Jack’s gaze.

When world-weary blue eyes gazed down at her niece, a new light of life sparked in them as the healer used her staff to tap the girl on the head. Terrorthi only laughed and hugged her aunt tighter while Neðan waited behind his rider. However, Gothi didn’t leave him out either and motioned to the dragon to come closer. The Whispering Death surged forth, coiling around the two, and hummed contently.

“Mom,” Snuffnut threw himself at Puffnut waiting on the dock. The boy’s father stood behind his wife and once the blond Viking was finished greeting his mother, he threw himself at his father.

As Snuffnut excitedly told his father all about his adventure-filled trip, Gruffnut walked up and patted his sister on the shoulder. Torch watched for a moment from the sky before landing on the dock and enveloping them all within his massive wingspan while Skully just glared at the younger dragon. Apparently, he still wasn’t over them being thrown off the longboat because of the Typhoomerang’s pent-up energy.

Jack nodded to the few Vikings who he knew by sight as he walked off the boat and a few of them even nodded back before boarding the boat to help Typhan offload what remained of his wares along with the goods they’d picked up on their travels. The Druid offered to help with the work, but Bucket had sent him on his way. He really should have known the Winter King in disguise had done so for a reason. However, the brunet didn’t think anything of it and just collected his meager belongings before disembarking with two Terrible Terrors in tow.

Thus, Jack wasn’t paying much attention and ran smack dab into Hiccup. For once, neither of them fell as the Dragon Rider quickly wrapped his arms around the Druid to steady both of them. Looking down—which he really shouldn’t have been walking while staring up at the sky, but it was an old habit he hadn’t broken himself out of quite yet—amber eyes crinkled as he grinned sheepishly.

“Hi Hiccup,” the ex-spirit greeted as he looked into vivid green eyes, “mind letting me go?”

Hands quickly fell away as the auburn-haired teenager took a quick step back, his cheeks a little red which had Jack wondering what he’d been up to before they had run into each other. Toothless had no problem getting between the two, stealing the Druid’s attention away from his rider and all for himself. The brunet happily obliged the Night Fury with a laugh, scratching behind his ear-plates while cooing at the puppy-like behavior.

“Jackson, I… uh…” Hiccup stuttered, rubbing his shoulder nervously which drew amber eyes away from the overexcited dragon and back towards his rider. Had Jack injured the other teenager when they collided? He hadn’t thought they had bumped into each other that hard but with the Viking continuing to rub at his shoulder, he was beginning to think differently. The Druid opened his mouth to apologize, only for Hiccup to greet him properly. “Welcome back. How was your trip?”

“Good,” Jack grinned. All thoughts of possibly injuring the Dragon Rider fled from his mind as the fond memories of the voyage surged to the forefront.

The trip had been great. The Druid was able to trade some of the items the Wyldfae had given him along with a few pelts he had earned from Finn and Gruffnut for supplies he needed but couldn’t get his hands on in Berk. Then there was all the fun he had playing with the local children and telling them stories about Jökul Frosti. On top of that, Jack had continued to train the three young Dragon Rider Trainees and their dragons by running them through exercises and drills he had seen Hiccup put the other Dragon Riders through.

The brunet even managed to assist the Berk Guard Commander in her quest, which reminded him. “Huffnut’s scouting mission proved to be successful, she was able to confirm what we already knew.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“That Dagur’s supposedly new weapon he was test-firing was all a hoax to get you to come to Outcast Island. It was a trap,” the Druid lost some of his earlier cheer, his pointer finger agitatedly flicking the dragon scale dangling from the staff.

“I thought so,” the Dragon Rider gave a brisk nod, vivid green eyes glancing out towards the ocean, before turning back to look at him. “So, what else did you do?”

“Well, I was able to help Typhan offload some of the Craft Guild’s wares—along with some of my own—with Gruffnut’s help,” Jack began, tapping a finger from his unoccupied hand to his chin as he recalled all he’d done in the last ten days. “I also helped Gustav, Snuffnut, and Terrorthi with their flying.”

“You didn’t fly with them, did you?” Hiccup asked, his voice raising a little in concern. Toothless’s low growls of displeasure were cut off with a gentle pat to his head. “I mean, they’re still pretty new at the whole flying thing and I wouldn’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“Relax Hiccup,” the brunet waved him off as they began the climb up the slope to the village. “I only offered them some advice from the boat while they flew over the ocean. There was a little problem when they wouldn’t listen to what I had to say about crosswinds,” Jack grinned at the memory of all three of the Dragon Rider Trainees and dragons coming out of the lesson soaking wet. “Let’s just say they took the lessons a little more seriously after we hit a few crosswinds during our travels.

“I also worked with Pain to hone his fish scouting abilities. Sharpshot joined in, though he wasn’t all that good at it. I don’t think he was too happy he failed at something,” Jack went on about the journey.

“I can see that,” Hiccup chuckled, pointing to the two Terrible Terrors perched on top of the Druid’s staff, the green dragon hunched over in a look of pure defeat.

Jack looked around suspiciously and then said in a fake stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think Pain missed Snotlout.”

They both laughed when the purple Terrible Terror let out a high-pitched screech at the insinuation. The dragon gained some of his trainer’s prideful attributes and was, apparently, easily offended. Glaring, Pain flew off the Druid’s staff and into the village, away from the two teenagers laughing at his expense. Sharpshot, on the other hand, brightened up now they weren’t discussing his failure to locate even a single school of fish.  

“I think we’ve offended him,” Hiccup finished chuckling now Pain was no longer in sight.

“I think so too,” the brunet nodded in agreement, before turning his head towards the Viking. “Your turn. What’s been going on in my absence? No more Screaming Death attacks I hope?”

“No, no Screaming Death attacks,” the Head of the Dragon Academy breathed out, sounding a little off which had amber eyes giving him a sideways glance. He held in his grin when he saw the auburn-haired teenager’s resolve crumble and got him talking. “Dagur did though.”

Jack stopped walking; Hiccup did not. Without thinking, he used his staff to grab Hiccup by the back of his vest. Effectively dislodging the green Terrible Terror from on top of the gnarled piece of wood and producing a yelp from his trainer. Not that he cared at the moment. His eyes were fixed on the Viking as the shorter teenager turned around to lock eyes with his own.

“Start talking, now.”

Hiccup rubbed the back of his head, glancing over at Sharpshot as the Terrible Terror landed on top of Toothless’s head. “Dagur used Trader Johann in another one of his traps. One of his Berserker sold a pile of scrap metal to him and Gobber bought the scrap metal.”

“Okay, I’m not seeing anything devious here,” the Druid let his body relax and leaned his weight against his crook, confused as to why this was bad.

The chief’s son shook his head. “It wasn't just a pile of scrap metal Trader Johann sold Gobber, but a nest of Smothering Smokebreaths filled with hatchlings.”

“Smothering Smokebreaths,” Jack said, attempting to remember all the dragons he’d seen and those he’d just heard about but couldn’t bring forth an image of the dragon in his head. “Don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t, they aren’t in The Book of Dragons since they were thought to be a myth. We found out otherwise when we ran into the tiny dragons a while before you got here. They normally inhabit Breakneck Bog and steal metal to build their nests. Not to mention they breathe smoke, which allows them to undermine their prey,” Hiccup described the dragons and the brunet found himself nodding along in understanding. “Anyways, the adolescent Smothering Smokebreaths stole our weapons leaving us defenseless against Dagur’s armada when it sailed in.”

“What did you do?” the brunet urged Hiccup on, having proof all around him the deranged man wasn’t successful in his attempts to take Berk by force.

“We had the villagers round up all the remaining metal and used it as bait to locate the Smothering Smokebreaths’s nest. The plan worked and we were able to follow the dragons back to their nest, but Dagur was practically upon us. There was no way we could battle the Smothering Smokebreaths for our weapons and battle Dagur at the same time.

“We could, however, use what little metal remained and drop it on Dagur’s armada,” the Head of the Dragon Academy grinned at the unfortunate events that befell the Berserkers at his hands. “The Smothering Smokebreaths did the rest, taking every piece of metal from the Berserker's Armada and rendering them weaponless and, in some cases, boatless as without the metal, a few of their longboats sank. Everyone’s metal was returned to them, and we took the Smothering Smokebreaths back to Breakneck Bog with the help of Trader Johann, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed as they once again headed up towards the village. “Anything else of interest happened while I was gone?”

Sighing, the auburn-haired teenager ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs to stand up unintentionally. “Dad had to release Thornado.”

“What, why?” the brunet found his mouth dropping open and quickly snapped it shut. He knew the chief adored the Tidal-class dragon and Thornado adored him as well. Why would either of them agree to go their separate ways?

“We found three adolescent Thunderdrums and they couldn’t stay on Berk due to their undeveloped control of their sonic blasts despite my best efforts to convince my Dad otherwise. They couldn’t stay on Dragon Island alone either since the other wild dragons attacked them. Dad decided it was best to let Thornado go to be their protector,” Hiccup finished as they finally reached the top of the cliff and the village.

“He made the right choice,” Jack approved of the chief’s decision because it was the right thing to do. Tilting his head to the side, the brunet blinked when a familiar purpled dragon came flying back and landed on top of his staff once more. “Hey look who’s come back. What’s the matter, Pain? Couldn’t find Snotlout?”

The little dragon emitted a grumble and turned his head to the side.

“Hm, I wonder where he is. Don't worry Pain, we'll just meet up with him at the Academy," the Druid assured the Terrible Terror.

"He won't be there," Hiccup hesitated, pulling at his bangs with both hands and effectively hiding his face. The behavior was odd—even for the Viking—which had amber eyes darting over towards Toothless who was looking at his rider, waiting for the teenager to answer. "He… uh… he's been suspended from the Academy."

"Suspended, why?" Jack eyed the auburn-haired teenager. He knew the verdict was up to Hiccup to make, being the Head of the Dragon Training Academy and all, but he couldn’t fathom a reason why Hiccup would make such a choice.

The slightly smaller teenager’s body tensed as he gritted his teeth while vivid green eyes hardened into a glare. "He didn't follow orders during a training exercise."

"That seems a little harsh of a punishment for simply disobeying orders during a training exercise," the brunet hummed casually, not seeing how that would have gotten Snotlout suspended when he had done much—much—worse.

"It wasn't that simple!" Hiccup snapped, causing the ex-spirit to stagger back at the venom lacing the normally calm Viking’s voice.

"Then why don't you simplify it for me?" Jack said in a deadly calm voice, his eyes narrowing and his own voice becoming hard. He felt like he was the one on trial here and not the other brunet who wasn’t even here to defend himself. Snotlout did not deserve this kind of treatment, no matter the case.

"He almost got Astrid killed because he didn’t fall back! Instead, he fired at the catapult which released a boulder and hit Astrid," the Dragon Rider all but yelled, seething.

"Which is the purpose of training exercises," the Druid pointed out logically, his grip tightening on his staff as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "To make sure things like that don't happen out on real battlefields by working out tactics beforehand in a controlled environment; for teammates to figure out each other’s strengths and weaknesses, to learn to work together as a team.

"Yeah, it sounds like Snotlout messed up, but that doesn't justify kicking him out of the Academy,” Jack continued with an unyielding sternness, making a motion with his hand at each of his points. “Punish him in a different way; make him clean out the dragons' pens. Give him something to do so he can reflect on his mistakes and if he hasn't learned his lesson, talk to him.   Don't banish him," the brunet spat out, turning his back on Hiccup and heading into the village with Pain. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to find Snotlout."

Jack stomped away from the Dragon Rider fuming. He hadn't done anything, and Hiccup had taken out his anger at him. That was not how a leader should act—ever—and he wasn’t about to take that kind of treatment. He didn’t even slow his pace when he heard the call of his name from behind him. The ex-spirit simply ducked between two huts and with a hop, skip, and a jump, he was running across rooftops with Pain flying beside him.

A flash of blue overhead had the Druid slowing down and coming to a stop. Looking up, he shielded his eyes with his unoccupied arm and smiled as wings blew gusts of wind at his face, causing his hair to become messier than it already was in his mad dash to get away from Hiccup.

"Jackson! It's good to see you," Astrid greeted him, Stormfly giving a chirp of her own in greeting as well.

"It's good to see you as well, I heard you almost got killed when I was gone," Jack smiled at the shieldmaiden, moving to the side to make room for the Deadly Nadder to land. Hopefully, whoever’s hut they were standing on wouldn’t mind the dragon’s presence.

"I see you've already talked to Hiccup," the blonde teenager sighed as Stormfly settled down on the roof.

"Yeah, although, I wouldn't call it talking per se," the Druid brushed it aside, not wanting to get her involved with his problem with Hiccup. "You want to tell me what happened? I didn't get much out of Hiccup other than it was Snotlout's fault you almost died."

"I won’t say it was all Snotlout's fault. Uncle Finn berated me for not paying attention to my surroundings, so it was kinda my fault too," Astrid grumbled, hanging her head low. A second later, blue eyes peered over at him with soft eyes as she bit her upper lip. "Not that I admitted it at the time."

“I know the feeling," Jack gave a self-deprecating chuckle, letting the shieldmaiden know he knew exactly how she felt. "So, what went on?"

"Well, it was a mock ambush attack. Uncle Finn, Gobber, and Puffnut were in the forest with catapults and were firing upon us as we flew over. We were supposed to practice evading the attacks. However, Hiccup called for a retreat," the blonde-haired teenager grimaced, and the brunet could tell the memory was being played behind blue eyes.

The ex-spirit could already see where this was going. "And let me guess, Snotlout didn't retreat?"

"Nope," Astrid answered, rolling her eyes. "He attacked the catapults."

"I would have done the same thing," Jack admitted, rubbing the back of his head and looking up at the sky. He had done the same thing during the bombardment of Nightmare Men on Santoff Claussen which was how he’d wound up in the past to begin with. "I'm not smart enough to know when to retreat."

"I'll have to remember that," the shieldmaiden muttered under her breath—yet the winds were nice enough to deliver the remark to his ears—before raising her voice back to normal. "Anyways, one of the catapults was already malfunctioning from what Gobber said, but when Snotlout hit the thing, it fired and sent a boulder our way. Hiccup evaded it, but I wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind me and only turned around when the others shouted out warnings. I tried to dodge at the last second, but I leaned out too far and ended up falling out of Stormfly's saddle."

The Deadly Nadder chirped sadly, lowering her head in shame. Her rider leaned forward and patted the dragon just below the crown of spikes to reassure Stormfly it wasn’t her fault. The dragon leaned into the touch, letting out a thrill of sorrow.

"Hush girl, it was my fault, not yours," Astrid cooed, placing her head against the dragon’s crown which finally appeased the Deadly Nadder. "Hiccup and Toothless were able to catch me and I was too upset at my own stupid actions that I lashed out at Snotlout and Hiccup did the same, grounding Snotlout. Although when we got back, Uncle Finn sat me down with my parents and we discussed what happened. Ma was the one to point out I was just as much at fault for not paying attention to my surroundings as Snotlout was and, like I already said, Uncle Finn berated me for not paying attention. It could get a warrior killed."

"Agreed," Jack grimaced, remembering how Toothiana hadn't been paying attention and he was forced to intervene. Sandy was the one who ended up rescuing her while he used his body as a shield because he didn’t have enough common sense to listen to his self-preservation instincts. "I was going to go look for him and see how he was doing. That and Pain missed him."

The Terrible Terror chirped, taking to the air once more and circling their heads impatiently.

"I'd like to go with you, I need to apologize," the shieldmaiden said, nudging Stormfly to take off.

“Okay,” the brunet nodded. A moment later a grin spread across his face as he took a running jump at the next roof, throwing behind him, “race ya.”

Hey! Get back here you cheater. Jackson!


Hiccup dragged his feet through the door to his home, glancing back to see Toothless was stubbornly staying outside. He paused when he saw his father sitting at the table with two blocks of ice. One of the ice blocks rested innocently on the table while the other was held to the chief’s head as his helmet hung on the back of the chair he currently occupied.

“Tough day, Dad?” Hiccup asked as he closed the door, effectively putting an end to the angry glare he was on the receiving end of.

“Aye,” Stoick said turning toward his son. “Some days it's not so easy being a leader.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy groaned, taking a seat next to his father and burying his fingers into auburn locks. “I think I may have a little situation with Snotlout.”

The chief grunted and handed the teen the other block of ice, which Hiccup gladly took. “And what's he done now?”

“He disobeyed a direct order, so I grounded him, and now he's refusing to obey that order! And then Jackson returned and when I told him about it, he goes and sides with Snotlout,” he ranted, holding the block of ice up to his head while waving his other arm around erratically. He purposely excluded the valid points Jackson made that he’d been too angry at almost losing someone on his watch to listen to. Hiccup was their leader, he was responsible for them, and if Astrid died it would ultimately have been his fault. “I—I don't know what to do. Do I expel him from the Academy for good?”

“Is that what you really want?” Stoick asked, placing his block of ice down on the table to stand up and make his way around the table. His father then took the block of ice out of his hand and set that down too.

“No. But I also don't want to put the other riders at risk,” the teenager confessed, hands falling limply to his sides as all the steam left him.

“Hmm, tough one,” the older man muttered, glancing into green eyes before looking up and to the right. Whatever it was he was thinking about, Hiccup knew by the tilt of his frown, that it wasn’t a happy memory. “Decisions like this, are never easy. I've made more than a few in my day.”

“Then, how do you do it? How can you be someone's leader and…,” Hiccup stumbled as he searched for the correct phrase to sum up his dilemma, “…and still be their friend?”

“You can't, not always,” Stoick answered honestly, and the Dragon Rider looked up to see the serious look in his father’s eyes. “Son, someday you will be chief. And when that day comes, you'll have to make choices, not for your friends or for yourself, but all of Berk.”

Hiccup gulped at the implication and shook his head as all the horrible nightmares came surging forth from the back of his mind. He wasn’t prepared to become Berk’s chief any time soon. A silent prayer was sent up to all the gods and goddesses that his father would have a long, fulfilling life.

His prayers were interrupted by the door barging open to banging loudly against the wall. “Stoick! Come quick! There—there’s a…. and… chief! You’ve got to come!”

“Alright, alright,” Stoick said to the clearly flustered Viking as the two Haddocks followed the man outside and to the edge of Berk where there was a whole crowd of murmuring villagers gathered tightly around something. They easily parted as their chief made his way through to the center. “Alright, what's going on here? Who is…?”

The chief trailed off when the final two Vikings moved out of his way to allow him access to the focus of the majority of his tribe. Snotlout was in the middle laying on the ground with Astrid—twirling the handle of her axe agitatedly in her hands—Jackson—holding his staff defensively before him with his legs coiled, ready to spring forward—and a purple Terrible Terror—flying and hissing—standing protectively around him. Separate from them stood the ragged and battered figure of the presumed-to-be-dead Chief of the Outcast Tribe with Hookfang situated behind the man, keeping him from making a run for it.

“I captured him,” the downed Monstrous Nightmare rider held up a hand weakly before passing out completely. It was fortunate he was already on the ground seeing how no one was in the position to catch him if he had fallen, not daring to take their eyes off of the Outcast before them.

“Alvin?” Stoick’s face slackened and his eyes widened at the sight of the weary Outcast surrounded by enemy combatants yet not making a move to attack.

“Alvin?” Hiccup echoed, copying his father’s expression, a millisecond later.

Chapter 43: Those Casted Aside

Notes:

RainbowDoom: Hiccup bailed hard with his feelings and ended up sticking his foot in his mouth. He tends to do that a lot, even in the show. XP

Acesmol: Welcome new reader, I am pleased I've corrupted *clears throat* I mean, I am pleased I've changed your opinion on HiJack ship with the way I write the pairing. I'm also pleased to hear you like my Merlin-inspired references and think Jack was super cool when acting like Jokul Frosti (I'm dying for someone to actually draw me a picture of that scene, but alas, I've got no fanart to save the one I commissioned for myself. T.T)

Huh, of the reviews I've received for the last chapter, a lot of you sided with Snotlout instead of Hiccup. I really didn't see that coming. Also, who said Jack wasn't Jack Frost anymore? I just said there wasn't a way for him to hope, skip, and jump Back to the Future. (Horrible pun there, I know.) How does that equate to him not being Jack Frost?

Chapter Text

“Alvin the Treacherous you are hereby charged with the following crimes: treachery, attempted treachery, premeditated treachery, conspiracy to commit treachery, and… Well, you get the idea!” Gobber read off the list of accusations in front of the large crowd of angry Hairy Hooligan Tribe members. Almost the whole village packed themselves like sardines into the Great Hall, clamoring to see the man who had tried to kill them on countless occasions before and betrayed them—and their chief—years prior.

Said man was shackled in manacles and chains, standing in the center of the ring of livid spectators. His already shabby clothing from wherever he had been laying low had become even worse as the villagers threw rotten vegetables at him. There would have been sharper, heavier, and deadlier objects being thrown if Stoick wasn’t standing mere feet in front of the bound man with Hiccup to his father’s right. While the tribe was willing to lynch Alvin, they weren’t willing to risk injuring their chief to get to the Outcast. That didn’t stop them from voicing their desires.

“We want his head!”

“Down with Alvin!”

“Feed him to the dragons!”

“—blood!”

“Drowned him at sea!”

“Settle down, everyone,” Stoick spoke loud enough to be heard while making a slow soothing gesture with his hand to quiet the Vikings down. Once they were settled, green eyes hardened into gems as they drilled into the prisoner. “Alvin the Treacherous, you will be remanded to our jail until a proper sentence can be handed down.”

“Is this how you treat a man who saved a valuable life?” Alvin sneered, his shackles rattling as he lunged forward but the chains did their jobs and kept him in place.

“Valuable?” Tuffnut whispered and despite not being loud, Hiccup clearly heard the comment since the twins were only a short distance from him. The loud clamoring going on around them did nothing to mask the skepticism in the blond Viking’s voice.

“Snotlout?” Ruffnut asked just as skeptically and if Jackson were there, the Head of the Dragon Academy knew he would be bopping both of them on the head for their comments. However, seeing as the Druid was still mad at Hiccup and he didn’t seem to want to be in the same room as the auburn-haired Viking, Jackson wasn’t there. Instead, he and Astrid had taken Snotlout to Gothi’s for the healer to look him over for any lasting injuries.

“I know you, Alvin,” his father spoke, drawing Hiccup’s attention back to the hearing. “You didn't do this for Snotlout. You did it for yourself.”

“What could I possibly have to gain from coming here?” the Outcast snorted as he held up his hands the best he could, deliberately allowing the chains to make as much noise as possible. “I did it for us both, Stoick,” he insisted. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Not interested,” the chief tersely bit out. Not allowing the prisoner a chance to say anything more, Stoick turned to address the crowd. “That's it, everyone! Go home.”

A glance from the chief had Gobber and Finn ushering the villagers out of the Great Hall whilst Huffnut made a complicated hand gesture at a few of her guards who led Alvin to his new living arrangements: the cells. Hiccup and the twins stayed behind, watching as Stoick made his way toward the tables which had been pushed to the back of the Great Hall to make room for everyone. Those who weren’t ushered out—the Berk Guard Commander, Spitelout, and a few others who made up Stoick’s Council—joined the chief at the table to discuss Alvin’s sentencing.

Hiccup thought about joining the council meeting. He wanted to be involved and assist his father, but he hesitated. There wasn’t much he could do to help. Not in this situation. There were no dragons to deal with, no advice he could give that the chief couldn’t get from one of his own council members who, quite frankly, had a better understanding of the situation than he did. In all honesty, the Dragon Rider didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice penetrated through his self-doubts, bringing his attention towards the doors where the shieldmaiden was fighting her way against the crowd to get through. She had to squeeze past two Vikings by turning sideways and even then, she had some problems. Fishlegs—who was following behind her—didn’t seem to have any difficulty on the other hand. He just plowed through the other villagers with no problem. Finally, the two reached him, Astrid huffing slightly to catch her breath.

“You okay?”

The Deadly Nadder rider waved him off with a hand. “Snotlout just woke up, and apparently Alvin wasn't the only big, nasty creature on the island he had flown out to.”

“The Screaming Death. It's closing in on Berk,” Fishlegs cut in as the shieldmaiden took a deep breath, which had Astrid glaring at him for daring to interrupt her. Although, for once, she let it slide in light of the dire situation. Probably due to the fact all the blood was currently draining from Hiccup’s face, leaving him as pale as a ghost.

“Well, that's fantastic news,” the auburn-haired Viking replied automatically, wishing he had a table to bang his fists against. Or his head, he wasn’t picky. Regardless, Hiccup forced himself to keep his composure and closed his eyes while taking a deep breath to keep from freaking out. Once that was done, he opened his eyes to see four Dragon Riders all looking at him, waiting for a command.

His command.

Letting out his breath slowly, he headed for the door himself, making a motion with his hands for the others to follow. “Come on.”

He would let his father and his council deal with Alvin in the Great Hall while he and his council of Dragon Riders prepared for the Screaming Death at the Academy. This, at least, was something he could handle.


Hiccup felt a little better sitting in Toothless’s saddle as they dodged Stormfly’s fireball, the confined space of the Academy didn’t make the feat easy, but that was the point of their current training drill. Due to the Screaming Death’s large mass, they had the advantage of outmaneuvering the Titan Wing class dragon. All the Academy members needed now was more practice seeing as Barf and Belch crashed into the dome ceiling, sending their riders flying while attempting to dodge Meatlug’s lava blast.

“Come on, you guys, focus,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy urged them as the Night Fury beneath him did a tight backflip and landed on the ground, albeit a bit harder than intended having to move fast in order to dodge the spine shot coming from behind. “We need to figure out a way to stop the Screaming Death from reaching Berk.”

The words no sooner left his mouth than Hookfang swooped through the Academy entrance—with Snotlout on his back—and right into the path of Meatlug. There was no collision as the larger dragon easily flicked the Gronckle away with a single wing, sending the smaller dragon spinning off towards the wall. Fishlegs fought to regain their bearings, barely succeeding in preventing them from slamming into the wall. The Gronckle rider was, however, thrown off of Meatlug’s back in the process and landed in a heap of tangled limbs, groaning in pain.

“Hey, everyone!” Snotlout clamored for everyone’s attention as he dismounted the Monstrous Nightmare and strutted arrogantly over towards his cousin. Hiccup felt the muscles in his jaw clench together, his hands tightening on Toothless’s saddle, while vivid green eyes narrowed at the audacity of the brunet, and for once, Snotlout picked up on his bad mood. The Monstrous Nightmare rider’s confident gait briefly faltered and instead of looking at Hiccup, he turned to wave at Astrid as he went. “Did you miss me? Of course, you did. Ha! Why do I even ask?”

“Snotlout, I'm very happy you're okay,” the Night Fury rider began as he dismounted Toothless while endeavoring to keep calm. He had already blown up at Jackson—which he was very much regretting—and he wasn’t about to let his lingering anger get the best of him now. Nevertheless, he still was the Head of the Dragon Training Academy, and all the other riders and the trainees were his responsibility. Hiccup could not have his cousin messing things up. Not at a time like this.

What was worse, Snotlout didn’t even appear to regret his actions. He knew the burly Viking never apologized to Astrid and with what just happened with Meatlug and Fishlegs, he was as reckless as ever.

“Oh, me? Ha! I'm more than okay,” his cousin said, not even looking at him.

Instead, Snotlout walked over to Astrid and was currently wiggling his eyebrows at her. She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, letting out a snort, yet there was no bodily injury coming from the usually violent shieldmaiden as Hiccup expected. In fact, it even looked like there was a quirk of her lips going on as she fought not to laugh at the Monstrous Nightmare’s antics. A fact which wasn’t picked up by the Night Fury rider, causing the Viking’s anger to well up once more seeing Snotlout’s nonchalant interaction with the Hofferson despite everything he’d put Astrid through.

“You broke the rules, again,” Hiccup gritted out harshly, a frown making its way onto his face. “And you almost got yourself killed in the process. Not to mention the training exercise where you almost got Astrid killed.”

“So? Me and Astrid–” Snotlout started but didn’t get the chance to finish as the Head of the Academy spoke over him.

“So? You Are Still Suspended,” Hiccup laid down the law, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t about to be pushed around by his cousin, not this time.

“What?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider reeled back in disbelief, his casual demeanor dissolving and even Astrid’s arms fell to her side as a shocked expression overtook her face.

“I found the Screaming Death!” Snotlout stalked over to Hiccup, arms swinging back and forth with each step, biceps clenching up while the brunet’s own features hardened in rage. “And, I captured Alvin the Treacherous!”

“Weren't you unconscious when you ‘captured’ him?” Astrid huffed, giving the burly Viking a look the auburn-haired teenager could not decipher.

“Unconscious like a fox,” the brunet Viking snapped, only to lose some of his steam at his own comment. Obviously, it didn’t come out as he’d intended.

“Uh, that doesn't even make sense to me, and I am foxy like a badger,” Tuffnut pointed out from where he, Ruffnut, Fishlegs, and their two dragons stood to the side, watching the whole scene as not so silent spectators.

“And that makes even less sense,” Fishlegs muttered out, only intending for the twins to hear him, but with the tense silence, everyone heard him.

“Look, nothing's changed. You're still suspended,” Hiccup ignored everyone and walked around his cousin over to Hookfang. Grabbing one of the straps securing the saddle to the Monstrous Nightmare’s neck, the Dragon Rider began to lead him to one of the Academy pens. “I'm sorry, Hookfang, but you’ll have to stay in your pen for a little while.”

“You can't do this, Hiccup! You can't take away my dragon,” Snotlout howled even as the chief’s son closed the door and headed over to the locking mechanism. Hiccup had to put all his weight into wrenching the lever after years of disuse. A heavy wooden bolt lowered into the metal latches and sealed the door, effectively locking the Monstrous Nightmare inside.

In all honesty, Hiccup took the idea from Jackson. Not exactly locking up the dragons, but giving Snotlout a punishment in which he could spend time reflecting on his mistakes in hopes of him truly learning a lesson.

“Hookfang?” the shorter Viking quietly called out, reaching through the latticed bars to rub the dragon’s muzzle. Hookfang whined, not understanding why he was being confined and Hiccup politely pretended not to notice as he left the arena. The other Dragon Riders followed his lead, save for Astrid who stayed back.

Dismissing the twins and Fishlegs, he mounted Toothless and flew off. For a moment he contemplated with the idea of going to visit Jackson, but seeing how he didn’t know where to find him—along with the very high probability the Druid was still mad at him—the Night Fury rider deemed it in his best interest to gather some intel of his own.

One of Huffnut’s men delivered a message to him while he was at the Academy, informing him Alvin requested an audience with Hiccup. The stubborn Viking wasn’t about to give the man the pleasure of him being at his beck and call. Whatever Alvin had to say could wait and he continued on with their council meeting which transitioned into training drills with the rest of the Academy members. Now that he was free, and Alvin had stewed awhile, Hiccup decided he was willing to hear whatever the former Outcast chief had to say.

Flying down to the jails, the chief’s son was only half surprised there was an angry mob situated around the jailhouse. He could understand though, that a few of the ones he spotted had lost loved ones to the treacherous Viking.

“Treachery—!”

“Down with Alvin!”

“—Blood—!”

“—Justice!”

“—Guts—!”

“We want justice!”

“—His head!”

Some of the things they were shouting—which he was deliberately ignoring—weren’t for young ears and as he flew over, he spotted a few children present. Meaning Jackson wasn’t present in Berk since he would have already drawn the younger ones away from the mob. The brunet abhorred any child, even a few of the younger teenagers, from bearing witness to violence if he could help it and shielded them from it as much as he could.

It was the thought of the Druid that had Hiccup reminding himself he wasn’t thinking about Jackson. He had to worry about more important things. Like landing Toothless away from the mob and having him lead the way through the crowd. No one would bump into Toothless, no one. Thus, no one bumped into Hiccup as he determinedly walked up to where two of the Berk’s Guards stood on either side of the door.

One of them nodded to him, and both uncrossed their spears blocking the door, allowing the two entry. The auburn-haired teenager walked the length of the jail all the way to the very back, to the last cell where barely any light reached. Looking in, Hiccup saw the once-feared Viking was reduced to sitting on the floor with nothing but a stool and a mug in his prison.

“I was told you wanted to see me?” the chief’s son put on a brave face and stepped in front of Toothless, looking through the small opening covered in bars on the thick wooden door. The man just chuckled, the sound grating on Hiccup’s last nerve but he fought to keep his indifferent façade. The Night Fury, on the other hand, had no problem growling, his teeth unsheathing themselves in hopes to scare. “What do you want, Alvin?”

“I have a proposal for you, Hiccup,” Alvin said, pushing himself up off the floor and strolling towards the door as if he wasn’t caged like the animal he was. Toothless’s growls grew louder the closer he came, causing the large man to halt in mid-stride. In turn, Hiccup placed a gentle hand on the dragon’s head and the Night Fury ceased. Acid green eyes narrowed into slits, lips curled to show off dagger-like teeth in a silent threat.

“Well, this should be good,” the teenager sarcastically snapped back.

“This Dagur, he's a bit of a loose catapult, wouldn't you say?” the Outcast offered as if he was dangling a juicy piece of bait in front of a starving dragon.

“That's one way to put it,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy answered. He would have shrugged if he was with his Dragon Riders, but he didn’t want to show Alvin any sort of emotion that could be used against him. It was a good thing too as the ex-chief stopped and observed him, searching for a weakness but Hiccup didn’t think he found one. Grunting, the traitor continued. “Well, he forced me off my own island, and I want it back.”

“Why? So you can get back to the business of destroying our island?” the chief’s son shot back, not giving an inch.

“Oh, Hiccup. I was upset!” Alvin glanced off towards the side and Hiccup knew there was something there. What it was, he wasn’t sure of, yet.

Instead, he fell back on his sarcasm which seemed to serve him well in the past. “For twenty years?”

Alvin grabbed the bars suddenly and pulled his face right up against the cold metal. The dark shadows under his eyes were all the more visible, showing how haggard the Viking really was. Hiccup watched the wrinkles on his face deepen, bringing his attention to the few grey hairs in the man’s otherwise dark beard.

“Very upset,” letting go of the bars, the traitorous man leaned back, looking up at the top of the wooden door. Alvin appeared to be caught up in his own memories and the teenager briefly wondered what the man was recalling. Everyone knew the original Outcast had been born in the Hairy Hooligan Tribe but was cast out. For whatever reason, Hiccup didn’t know, only that there had been some type of betrayal and Alvin had left Berk with the new moniker: Alvin the Treacherous.

“You know, losing everything tends to make a man see things differently,” the traitor of Berk spoke up because that is exactly what he had done. He had lost everything.

The chief’s son wasn’t about to fall for it so easily. “So, you're saying… you've changed?”

“I'm saying, I'm trying to,” the man admitted which came as more of a surprise to Hiccup than anything else. If Alvin had said he had changed, the auburn-haired Viking would have walked out right then. However, it was because of the man’s honesty that he stayed.

“All right,” Hiccup said slowly, looking the Outcast straight in the eyes, “let's say we accept this proposal. What's in it for Berk?”

“The Berserkers gone and the Outcasts your allies.”

Hiccup left the cell much later and headed home with a lot on his mind. He and Toothless went on their usual evening flight, but his mind was too distracted to truly enjoy it. There was just too much going on and he was drowning. The Dragon Rider didn’t know what to do and he didn’t even know where to start looking for a solution.

Reaching home, he listlessly fed Toothless a dinner of cod and sat down at the table where his father already had their evening meal prepared. It was just some chicken, which was tough and tasteless, further reminding Hiccup he hadn’t had Jackson’s cooking in almost two whole weeks. He’d started to become accustomed to the finer meals the Druid made and was eagerly awaiting the Druid's return. That was a far cry from the true reason he’d wanted to see the brunet again but then he had to go and ruin it.

“All right, spit it out, son. You've been staring at me all night,” Stoick spoke up, bringing Hiccup back to his senses. He hadn’t even realized he had been staring at his father until that moment. Still, it gave him the opportunity to ask a few questions that his conversation with Alvin had brought to his attention. Questions he hadn’t been willing to ask Alvin for the answers in fear the man would lie.

Or worse yet, tell him a truth he didn’t want to hear.

“Wh—what exactly did Alvin do to get cast out?” the teenager asked, his eyes focused on the table at the beginning of his question only to end up staring straight at his father in the end.

“I don't want to discuss it,” Stoick turned his head away, stabbing a fork into the piece of chicken on his plate. The middle prong of the fork snapped off and the chief glared at the offending piece of cutlery before throwing it to the side.

“But, where did it all start? I mean—” Hiccup placed his fork down and raised a hand up in a questioning gesture. Before he could get any further, the chief slammed his fist down on the table, making the plates rattle while Toothless hunched over his fish, looking for any trouble while guarding his dinner.

“It doesn't matter where it started…” his father snapped, jerking his head away from his son to keep from glaring at the teenager, “…just where it ended.”

“Yes, but, I just want to know. I… I need to know,” the Head of the Academy made another attempt to garner more information.

“All you need to know is that Alvin is our enemy,” Stoick said, pushing himself up with his hand planted firmly on the table while his chair screeched across the floor as it was forced back. “And that will never change.”

With that, the chief stormed out through the hut and into his bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.


“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jack questioned Snotlout behind Berk’s jailhouse. The brunet hadn’t even known the village had a jailhouse until Alvin had been thrown inside. He originally thought the place was another storage building and he was proven half right when some of the Guard members carried out some sacks and barrels from one of the other cells before moving Alvin in.

“I’m sure,” Snotlout confirmed, tilting his chin up and throwing his shoulders back.

Fawn zipped out of the Druid’s clothing from where she'd been hiding with a few other fae to pat the Viking’s nose in comfort. His façade cracked slightly, and the scowl transformed into a weak smile. Offering his palm to the Wyldfae, the little burnt orange ball of light made a tinkering noise before delicately landing on the offered hand. Then, with gentleness few people knew the burly Viking possessed, Snotlout carefully hoisted the Dewdrop Faerie up to his shoulder to allow her to take up residence there for the time being while letting him draw comfort from the small creature. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Nodding his head, Jack followed the Jorgenson around to the front of the jailhouse. They stopped before the two Guards who just looked at them with judging eyes. Snotlout glared back and the younger redheaded Guard flinched under the stare.

Move,” Snotlout Jorgenson demanded with a steely voice. The raven-haired Guard held out for all of three seconds before pulling his spear back and allowing them entrance.

Together, the two teenagers with a multitude of Dewdrop Faeries hiding in their clothes walked to the end of the hall, heading for the last cell. The only light came from the lantern Snotlout carried with him in his left hand. Jack took up the position to the right of the door, casually leaning against the opposing wall where he could see the Outcast Viking from his vantage point but it would be hard for Alvin to see him with Snotlout standing in the way, blocking the light coming from the lantern.

“Well, there he is,” the man laughed gruffly, standing up. “Looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

“You know, I could have made it off the island without your help,” Snotlout waved off the comment with arrogance even he didn’t have and the ex-spirit found himself smirking while the Wyldfae on his shoulders let out little chimes of giggles. He had to give the Viking teenager credit, he sure knew how to put on a show. By playing up his overconfidence, he fooled Alvin into thinking he was the one with the upper hand.

The older man let loose another bout of gruff laughter—this one in wicked amusement—and spoke with a cynical tone. “Of course, you could have. I probably jumped in too soon, eh?”

“Yeah, definitely,” the Dragon Rider shot back in a sarcastic voice. However, it went right over the Outcast’s head and Jack couldn’t keep the dark chuckle contained.

“Uh, you know, boy, you and I are a lot alike,” Alvin remarked with a thoughtful look.

“Oh, really? How's that?” The other brunet didn’t need to hear the edginess to Snotlout’s tone to know the Monstrous Nightmare rider was offended. Jack felt exactly the same when Pitch likened himself to the Guardian of Fun. He felt infuriated and offended, but at the same time, he wondered if the other Guardians saw him in the same light. The burly Viking must have felt the same way, wondering if the other Dragon Riders saw him as the Alvin of their group.

“People don't appreciate how we do things,” the Outcast continued.

Jack couldn’t keep the loud snort contained and stood up straight, uncrossing his arms when the two Vikings turned to look at him. “Yeah, real alike. Just because people don’t appreciate the methods, doesn’t constitute similarities between yourself and Snotlout when you both fight for two very different reasons, with very different outcomes.”

“And who are you to talk?” Alvin snapped, eyes straining to see the Druid in the darkness.

“Someone who has had the same accusation thrown at him,” the ex-spirit answered airily as he stepped forward and into the light, a frosty expression etched on his face, “and does not appreciate such a comment being directed at my friend. Now, how about we get passed all this bogus flattery and sweet talking to get to the real reason why you sent for Snotlout.”

The former chief studied him for all of two seconds before turning his gaze back to Snotlout, effectively dismissing Jack; it would be his mistake. “You know this is wrong, don't you? Locking me up like this. I admit, I’ve done some crazy stuff, but I also saved your life, Snotlout! I didn't have to bring you back to Berk. I could have left you on that island, and I'd be a free man today. But I didn't. All I want is my island back and my tribe out from under that deranged boy’s grasp.

“If you let me out, you'll never see me again,” Alvin promised and the Druid would have given the man some thought, if not for his next words. “You owe me at least that, Snotlout.”

“Snotlout owes you nothing,” Jack snapped, slamming the butt of his staff on the ground and the winds outside shook the jailhouse, trying to get in to see what had riled up the eternal teenager. “You saved his life, but how many lives have you taken? Saving one life doesn’t equate to the lives you took. If you want something from us, you’ll have to make a trade, give us something we want.”

“I can do that,” the older man assured, looking back and forth between the two teenagers. The Druid could tell the man didn’t know who to deal with since his original plan seemed to involve manipulating Snotlout into letting him go. As usual, Jack’s presence had thrown a wrench in his plans. Now that he was offering Alvin what he wanted, the former Chief of the Outcast Tribe was unsure which one of them he should be dealing with. “I understand completely.”

“Oh, I don’t think you do,” the brunet spoke as the Wyldfae flew off his shoulders, their magic shining brightly and forming the characteristic globes of colored lights. Lights that swarmed around them and gave the Druid an eerie appearance. Fawn even flew off of Snotlout's shoulder and floated above his head, her burnt orange light shining down on the Viking below her, making the Outcast take a step back at the blatant display of power. “You won’t be making a trade with us, but with the fae and they do not take kindly to being crossed.”

The Fae?!” Alvin gulped, staring in horror at the Dewdrop Faeries. Apparently, he too had heard of the fae to some extent, like the Chief of Berk.

“I see you’ve heard of them, not many Vikings have from what I’ve seen. But this makes things easier,” Jack said, fighting down a grin. He had to admit, mimicking Pitch to the best of his abilities definitely seemed to terrify even the toughest of Vikings, that or it was the Dewdrop Faeries. In which case, the brunet seriously wondered about the future of the Outcasts if Alvin was to return as their leader. He made it seem like they were the Sidhe or something a lot more powerful than Dewdrop Faeries were ever capable of being.

A horn started blaring, one that had both Snotlout and Jack freezing in the middle of their charade and breaking character as fright crossed both of their faces. The two looked at each other even as they heard the Guard members at the door abandon their posts to respond to the warning signal.

“Eh? What's that?” Alvin asked in confusion as the horn blared again.  

His words barely reached their ears as the two ran towards the only exit to heave open the heavy doors. Vikings were running through the middle of town, many of whom were clad in armor while others were busy ushering the elderly and the young back into their huts and out of danger.

Jack was the first to spot Astrid and waved his staff at her—and with a little push of will, the crystal at the end lit up—catching her attention.

“Snotlout, Jackson, come on!” she gestured in the direction the other Vikings were running in, her other hand gripping her axe with white knuckles.

“What? What's going on?” Snotlout demanded as the horn sounded for the third time and many of the Wyldfae zipped into Jack’s cloak, hiding themselves in fright.

“It's Dagur! He's been spotted by the arena. Stormfly wasn’t in her stable at my house, the twins can’t find Barf and Belch, and a few of the Dragon Rider Trainees’ dragons are missing as well. We think Dagur has done something to them. The dragons are in trouble!” Astrid shouted over the noise of the chaos descending upon Berk.

“Hookfang,” the Viking whispered in disbelief and worry, eyes widening in fear and yet he could not bring himself to move even as Astrid ran ahead, joining the mass of chaos. Jack nudged the frozen brunet and Snotlout looked at him, twin looks of determination blossoming in their eyes and with a nod, they too made to join the chaos.

“No, wait! I can help! Dagur hasn't come alone! You need me and I’m willing to make that trade,” Alvin’s voice echoed out from inside the jail, but it was only the last part that had them faltering.

Chapter 44: Out of Depth

Notes:

Ahh, you all make my heart melt with the kindness and your love of Druid Jack (I might get a big ego with all the praise, but then I read my own work and see my grammar errors which I've overlooked and am knocked back down. XP) That, and reading the discussions going on about Jack being more powerful vs. scaring the Vikings as a harbinger of winter is amusing to me.

I have lurkers who've spoke to me! Thank you lurkers and keep lurking. Although, I feel bad that I'm the cause of your lack of sleep. Please sleep more (I'm talking to you, Isaias_Q and everyone else who hasn't sleep too)!

I stand corrected, apparently more of you sided with Jack than with Snotlout or Hiccup due to the argument two chapters ago. I acknowledge my mistake and as for compensation, I give you my longest chapter to date. Have a good read.

HeichouTheTitan: I don't care if I have to wait for you to get a new tablet, I would love to see that drawing! ❤❤❤

Mihas: I agree with you totally, Jack being at Alvin's trial wouldn't have worked for his character; hence, he wasn't there. As for what's going to happen in the remaining chapters, that would be telling~! (No Spoilers from me.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The blaring horn had Hiccup bolting up from his otherwise restless sleep. He hadn’t even bothered to change his clothing when he’d gone to bed, too mixed up in his thoughts and he was partly glad for the oversight right now as he grabbed his shield resting by the bed and raced out of the hut. Toothless was waiting for him by the door, ear-plates twitching every which way as pupils no more than slits stared off in the distance.

“Come on, Bud!” Hiccup swung up into the Night Fury’s saddle while slinging the shield over his back all in one smooth motion. They were already hurling through the night sky when the teenager finally grabbed hold of the saddle with his hands, clutching tightly due to his lack of riding harness. He cursed at himself for not donning the article of clothing, knowing they could be going so much faster without the fear of him falling. Fortunately, seeing the mass of Vikings heading towards the Dragon Training Academy, he knew they needn’t go far.

Coming in close, Toothless reduced his speed while Hiccup took in the emergency and swore. Hookfang was no longer locked in his pen but in the middle of the Academy arena. Flames covered his whole body as the Monstrous Nightmare faced off against Firefang and Fanghook. Not far from them, Stormfly and Flystorm were circling around Barf and Belch, but they weren’t working together to take on the Hideous Zippleback. No, the two Deadly Nadders were attacking each other as well at every given opportunity.

It wasn’t just the large dragons fighting one another either. The Terrible Terrors were brawling in the arena as well, and it wasn’t just inside the Academy. On top of the chain-link dome, Torch, Skully, and Scauldy were battling each other while attempting to get into the sealed area. It was only when Skully knocked Torch to the side that the Head of the Academy saw the root of all the chaos.

“Dragon Root!” Hiccup hissed, finally understanding what had the dragons irritated. He thought that after Fishlegs and Meatlug disposed of the one found in Finn’s field, he would never have to deal with the root again. How Dagur had even gotten ahold of the bulging bulb, the auburn-haired Viking would never know, but he was going to have to deal with it.

Seeing the other Dragon Riders running towards the Academy—Fishlegs on top of an unaffected Meatlug—Hiccup landed as close to them as possible without attracting the attention of the berserk dragons outside the arena. “Dagur put Dragon Root in the arena and somehow lured the other dragon in so they would attack each other.”

“Hiccup,” Snotlout gasped out between large gasps of air, elbowing Ruffnut and Astrid out of the way to get to the front. “Listen, I need–”

“Snotlout, not now,” the Head of the Academy dismissed his cousin. Now wasn’t the time for them to get into another argument, they had far more significant problems to deal with.

“It's important! I have to tell—” the dark-haired Viking insisted frantically.

“I said: Not. Now!” the Head of the Academy harshly snapped, holding up his hand in an effort to silence his cousin. He further shut Snotlout down by turning his back on him and addressing the only other Dragon Rider currently in possession of a dragon. “All right, Fishlegs, this is all you. Toothless and I can't go in there because he'll be affected by the root. Instead, we’ll open the gate and you and Meatlug have to fly in and get that root out of there while the others distract their dragons.”

“You hear that, girl? It's up to you and me,” Fishlegs gulped while Meatlug nodded eagerly and before her rider could hesitate or really think about what his mission entitled, the Gronckle was heading for the entrance of the Academy whilst the rest of the riders followed on foot.

Toothless easily overtook the Gronckle as he flew towards the opening mechanism but flared out his wings when Hiccup pulled back at the sight of the Dragon Trainees running their way. Before they could get too close Bucket appeared and pulled a struggling Terrorthi into his arms while Typhan hauled the two boys away by the back of their tunics. He didn’t need to hear what they were yelling to know the young children wanted to help—Terrorthi more so since Neðan wasn’t affected by the Dragon Root—but it wasn’t safe for them to be out here.

Knowing the Dragon Trainees were in safe hands, Hiccup turned back to his part of the plan and yanked the lever. The arena’s gate began to open but not very far. Just enough for the Gronckle and her rider to fly in with the other Dragon Riders following on foot. Working as one, they each moved in front of their respected dragon partners and began to talk them down with soothing words and calming tones. The three large dragons battling above their heads from the other side of the dome caused a few problems.

Astrid was forced to dodge out of the way of Torch’s long tail flickering through the chain-link dome or risk being thrown. Without the calming effect of her rider’s presence, Stormfly shrieked, shooting a volley of spines as Belch emitted a large cloud of gas. The gas was ignited by Hookfang's simmering flames, producing a relatively small explosion.  

Fishlegs stood at the entrance petrified. The memory of his first day entering the arena for Dragon Killing lessons flashed through his mind. It was like the dragons were the same mindless killing beasts they had been while under the Red Death’s control.

Astrid flung herself between the two Deadly Nadders when things began to escalate even more. “Stormfly, no! Leave Flystorm alone.”

For a split second, it looked like the Deadly Nadder recognized her rider but when Flystorm made a move towards the Dragon Root, she snapped. Firing off a ball of fire that would have hit Astrid if she hadn’t rolled out of the way, Stormfly charged at the other Deadly Nadder. While the blast of magnesium fire didn’t roast the shieldmaiden to a crisp, it did, however, hit Flystorm, who used his own wing as a shield to protect himself. He wasn’t prepared for the full-on tackle from the blue dragon. Snotlout was having even less success as he and Fawn worked to calm down three Monstrous Nightmares while dodging countless flames being thrown their way.

“This was a bad idea!” both Ruffnut and Tuffnut screamed as one as they ran out from a cloud of Barf’s gas. They didn’t get far and were thrown clear across the arena when Belch ignited the miasma. This left an opening for Meatlug to spew a vat of lava around the Dragon Root to scare the flock of Terrible Terrors away and make a grab for the root.

“Got it!” Fishlegs cried out in success, the Gronckle hurtling towards the exit with the root in her mouth. “Come on, girl. We're gonna make it!”

Before they could fly through, the gate slammed down with a deafening crash. It was only thanks to Snotlout and Hookfang’s earlier impromptu lesson on abruptly stopping that he was capable of bringing Meatlug to a halt in time to avoid slamming into the gate himself. Better yet, he hadn’t fallen off. This also meant they were all trapped inside the arena with a bunch of crazy dragons along with the source of the problem.

Fearful green eyes darted up, to ask Hiccup what was the big idea of closing the gate when he came face-to-face-to-face with said reason: two Berserkers.

“Uh oh,” Fishlegs gulped down a high-pitched whine emanating from his throat, one which dissipated when he saw Toothless land behind the two Berserkers, teeth bared and ready to fight. The only thing holding the Night Fury back was his rider.

“Open that door right now or—" Hiccup demanded, only to be interrupted before he could complete his threat by the bane of his existence, Dagur himself.

“Or what?” the Berserker chief asked, and Fishlegs had to crane his neck to see Dagur with a bunch of his men positioned on the stands surrounding the Academy’s chain-link dome, all of them holding crossbows aim directly at the Night Fury and his rider.

“Dagur, what do you want?” Hiccup growled, eyes darting around as more and more of the deranged Viking’s men came out of hiding, pointing more weapons in his direction.

“What I've always wanted; the Night Fury!” Dagur demanded, a demented smirk on his face. “Hand him over, and we leave peacefully. That's your choice… your dragon or your friends…

“Isn't this exciting?” the deranged Viking cheered insanely, whirling around on his feet and gesturing towards the arena and back at Hiccup. “What will he choose, ladies and gentlemen?”

He could hear the roaring of the dragons in the arena and the huffs and cries of his friends as they fought to dodge their attacks. However, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dagur for one moment; there was no telling what the man would do. Hiccup could hear each of the Academy members yelling out, calling for help from one another. Yet he knew none of them would be able to hold out much longer. Hiccup had to make a choice and quick.

“So, Hiccup, what's your answer?” Dagur didn’t taunt him but asked in such a way that it truly frightened the auburn-haired Viking because the Berserker already knew his answer.

“The answer is… we run you through and open the gate ourselves,” the Chief of Berk shouted as the Vikings of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe descended from all directions, armed to the teeth with weapons and shields. Commander Huffnut came in from the opposite direction as the chief while Jackson and Finn led the third side, on the cliffs above the arena, archers at the ready.

With a battle cry from Stoick, the Hairy Hooligan Tribe broke from their positions and attacked. The Berserkers were forced to turn their weapons from Toothless and fire or risk being impaled, yet not a single bolt hit as a gust of wind blew in from the ocean. It was an all-out melee, Berk’s archers keeping those on the outskirts at bay while those on the ground fought head-on. It was all chaotic and hard to follow.

The somewhat more intelligent members of Dagur’s tribe hadn’t taken their weapons off of the Night Fury in an attempt to incapacitate them, permanently. However, they weren’t counting on Hiccup to deflect the bolts with his shield. Toothless retaliated with two plasma blasts, taking out the two Berserkers in front of the Academy gate with the intention of freeing the rest of the dragons. Before the Night Fury and his rider could reach the gate, they were assaulted on all sides by bolts and spears and were forced to retreat into the air.

Jackson, having witnessed his plight and not being much use to the archers, didn’t hesitate to jump from the cliffs. Finn’s shout as he dove down was obscured by the winds whipping around him, slowing his descent to the point he was unharmed when he landed on Torch’s back and slid down the Typhoomerang’s wing before falling the last few feet to the ground where he landed in a crouch. It was a wonder Torch didn’t turn on him in his frenzied state. Still, the Druid had made it to the lever and pulled it back.

The gate slowly creaked open only to slam shut once more when one of the downed Berserkers pulled himself up to his feet and cut through the chain linked to the gate with his sword. It would have taken Jackson’s head off too, if the brunet hadn’t ducked and rolled to the side in the nick of time. Toothless took care of the threat, emitting a high-powered plasma blast that hit the man dead on, sending him flying back and crashing into the Academy’s wall. He didn’t get back up and Hiccup caught sight of a faint trail of smoke leaving the man’s abdomen.

Stoick must have witnessed the byplay, for he came out of the chaotic fray in time to grab hold of the sliced chain and with the strength of his massive build, pulled. Ever so slowly, the gate inched open while Jackson kept a few Berserkers from stabbing Stoick in the back. Too preoccupied with fighting Dagur’s men off neither the Druid nor any member of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe saw Savage climbing the Academy’s wall, preparing to ambush the redheaded Haddock from above.

However, an Outcast had.

“Stoick! Duck,” Alvin shouted, shoving four of the Berserkers—who had been coming up behind Jackson—aside and used a fifth as a pedestal to launch himself into the air and at Savage. The ex-Outcast chief’s whole body became his weapon as he collided with his former second-in-command’s smaller form. The two went tumbling down, Alvin landing on top and knocking the man out with the combined force of his weight and the impact.

You!” Dagur's angry shout penetrated the air. “You’re supposed to be dead! I killed you myself!”

“Me,” the dark-haired man answered back with an unrelenting grin. “Don't look so surprised. I don't go down so easily.”

“Alvin!” Stoick pulled himself up from where he had fallen in his attempt to escape Savage’s ambush. The chief retrieved Savage’s lost blade and with no thought about it, tossed the weapon to the Betrayer of Berk which Alvin easily caught by the hilt. Grunting at the impact, the traitor stared down at the weapon incredulously before looking over at his one-time friend. “Well, don't just stand there!”

The Betrayer of Berk grinned and shoved the blade’s hilt back, making contact with one of his former underlings and sending the man tumbling to the ground. With one last nod to Stoick, he joined the fray, taking out as many Berserkers as he could while rendering his own men unconscious so he could deal with them later. And he would deal with them.

Stoick, on the other hand, grabbed hold of the chain once more and began pulling at the links in an attempt to open the gate for a second time. This time, with Alvin’s help keeping the enemy at bay and Jackson knocking out the few stragglers who managed to get passed the Viking, he succeeded.

When there was enough room for Toothless to squeeze through, the dragon dove between the narrow gap and shot a few low-powered blasts at the other dragons. They quickly disengaged from chasing Meatlug and Fishlegs around the arena for the Dragon Root the Gronckle somehow had managed to hang on to despite everything else going on and turned their attention towards the Night Fury instead.

“Fishlegs, this way! We'll cover you!” the Head of the Dragon Academy ordered as they flew passed the Boulder-class dragon and worked to disorient the others, keeping them back.

“Come on, girl, you can do this!” Fishlegs encouraged his weary dragon as they flew straight out of the fully opened exit. However, in his haste and combined with Meatlug’s fatigue, he rammed straight into the chief as they flew out of the Academy. The impact knocked the giant man down, resulting in him letting go of the chain, but the blond Viking didn’t stop. They couldn’t stop now, they had to get the Dragon Root well away from the affected dragons. Instead, he threw an apologetic shout over his shoulder and headed straight out to sea. “Ahh unh! Sorry, chief!”

As the gate fell closed for the umpteenth time, Toothless just barely scrapped under the points of the wrought iron gate’s tip as he followed Meatlug out. The Night Fury and his rider were the only ones able to escape before the others were trapped inside the Academy once again.

Not that any of the Dragon Riders noticed, they were too preoccupied with coaxing the agitated dragons back into their right mind. Each rider tentatively inched closer to their respective mounts and when the dragons didn’t try to kill them as they’d been doing moments prior, the young teenagers threw themselves at their dragons. Hugging the huge reptiles for all they were worthwhile inspecting them for any injuries they might have sustained during their Dragon Root-induced frenzy state. Torch cooed down at them.

Hiccup watched in relief as their dragons returned back to normal and shook his head when Skully joined in with Torch’s cooing.

“Hiccup!” Gobber scream brought the Viking’s attention back to the battle. Toothless huffed and flew out from the sloped incline of the Academy’s entrance, up to where the fighting seemed to have subsided. The little bit of relief he had felt at the dragons being back in their right mind dissipated at the sight of Dagur and two of his men surrounding the bound form of his father. The sword held to Stoick’s throat was wielded by the Berserker chief himself as the rest of his underlings retreated to their longboats.

“Dad!” Hiccup shouted, worry filled his voice as his fingers tightened on the leather of the Night Fury’s saddle.

“Nobody make a move,” Dagur demanded, chuckling maniacally as he stared straight at his greatest threats: Toothless and his rider.

“Dagur,” Alvin growled out as the Outcast took a step towards the deranged Viking. He halted when the sword tip was pushed further into Stoick’s throat, yet the Berserker never took his eyes off the vivid green orbs glaring daggers at him.

Dagur was not only compelled to look away from Hiccup but remove his weapon from the Chief of Berk’s throat when he was forced to duck to avoid getting brained by a Druid’s staff. The Berserker behind his chief wasn’t so lucky and was knocked out. Jackson wasn’t deterred by his failure and used the momentum to spin around, bringing up his foot. Dagur blocked the spin kick with his forearm and used his other arm to swing his sword at the brunet.

Jackson disengaged, doing a backflip to dodge the weapon. He landed on his feet and brought up his staff in front of his chest just in time to block Dagur’s kick. His heels dug into the soil from the force behind the attack as the brunet was pushed back. Holding their positions for a moment, the Druid then pivoted on his left foot, spinning out of the way and unbalancing the Berserker. Bringing down his staff with all the force he had, Jackson aimed for the deranged Viking’s side.

The staff caught Dagur in the side, but Jackson wasn’t prepared for the redhead to snag the hook with the crook of his elbow and wrap his arm around the length to get a better grip on the gnarled piece of wood. Jackson tensed when the deranged Viking grinned at him but didn’t release his staff. Instead, he shoved his end forward and twisted it, twisting Dagur’s hand who gave out a hiss of pain but made no move to let go.

“Laddie! Watch out!” Finn yelled in warning, causing the Druid to turn. However, he never got the chance to face his attacker as the Berserker creeping up on him smashed Jackson on the side of the head with a large meaty fist. The slender teenager immediately crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

“I said, nobody make a move. Next time, I won't be so nice. We'll be leaving now, and if I see one dragon following us, rider or not, you're gonna be looking for a new chief,” Dagur grunted angrily, turning back to face the members of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe and returning his sword’s tip to Stoick’s throat once more.

The Chief of Berk never flinched.

Dagur appeared to be displeased with the lack of response yet with a casual shrug, he pushed it aside. The deranged Viking threw his sword to the Berserker who had managed to knock out Jackson and gestured for him to take Stoick to their boats. Savage made a move to follow after the group, but Dagur whipped his hand out and slammed the Druid’s staff into the man’s gut. A wheeze left the winded man, not that the redhead noticed. Instead, he spun the staff around and pointed it at the brunet’s down form, and glared at Savage.

It took a moment for the Outcast Viking to comprehend what the Berserker chief wanted and when he didn’t move fast enough, he ended up with a bludgeon to the head with the staff. Once he understood what was expected of him, Savage hurriedly grabbed Jackson and flung him over his shoulder before jogging to catch up to the other fleeing Berserkers and Outcasts. Dagur grinned wildly and twirled the Druid’s staff lazily in his hand.

“We'll be in touch!” the deranged Viking cheered and grabbed both ends of the gnarled piece of wood in each hand, bringing it over his raised knee. The staff snapped clean in two with a deafening crack. Then, as if he didn’t have any care in the world, he threw the two pieces to the ground which skidded to a stop in front of Toothless. The Night Fury reacted by lowering himself closer to the ground and growling ferociously. But he didn't move, knowing what was currently at stake. “Bye-bye”

Once they were out of sight, Hiccup rounded on the tribe’s troops, a plan already forming in his mind. “Okay, we take the South pass, cut them off at the beach, and smash their boats before they even—”

“Don't do it, boy,” Alvin stepped up, cutting off anything else the Heir of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had to say. “You back a man like that into a corner; you may not like the outcome.”

“Especially when that man travels with a hundred-ship armada,” Gobber concurred, hobbling over to stand near the former Outcast chief. Yet there was an obvious amount of space the blacksmith purposely kept between himself and Alvin.

“But I have to save them!” the Head of the Dragon Academy argued, nails biting into the leather of Toothless’s saddle. He felt one of his nails break but he paid it no heed.

Alvin shook his head negatively. “Dagur is not gonna hurt either of them, yet. They are not what he wants.”

“He's right,” Finn came up to stand behind his mentor, laying a hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder. Gobber eased to an extent under the hunter’s touch but he couldn’t fully relax. Their chief—his best friend—and his charge had been taken.

“You want me to trust him?” Hiccup gestured wildly to the Outcast.

“If there's one thing Alvin knows, Hiccup, it's treachery,” the Guard Commander stated in her professional opinion, coming to stand on Alvin’s other side. Her right hand hanging close to her side, clutching a blood-soaked blade.

Hiccup looked from one member of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe to the next. Seeing they all had the same hard expressions and knowing that Gobber and Huffnut were a part of his father’s council, the chief’s son sighed and relented. Giving a brisk nod to the three Vikings, the Berk Guard Commander gave him a small bow before turning back towards the Guard—giving one final meaningful look at Alvin—and the other Vikings who had gathered to protect their home.

“Alright Hooligans!” she shouted addressing the mass as a whole. “Let’s clean this place up! If there is blood on you and it’s not yours, get to capturing any stragglers and throw them into the jailhouse. If the blood you are wearing is your own, grab someone else wearing more of their own blood than you are and head on over to the Great Hall to be treated.” When no one moved, she growled out and the cool-headed shieldmaiden exploded. “What are you waiting for? GET A MOVE ON!

“Yes Commander!” the masses affirmed as one and scurried to comply.

“And someone get my dragon out of there,” Huffnut shouted, pointing to the sealed Academy gates where the remaining Dragon Riders and their dragons were still trapped.

Finn walked forward and grabbed ahold of Alvin’s upper arm, the two glared at each other before the Hofferson led the man away. Probably to be put back into the cell he had been occupying before.

Vivid green eyes watched as everyone ran about before glancing out towards the open ocean. Toothless followed his longing gaze as the winds picked up and whirled around Hiccup. Lightning struck in the distance, thundering following a few seconds later. A hand on his shoulder had the chief’s son turning to see Astrid with the twins and Snotlout behind her all looking at him with a mixture of determination and sympathy.

“What do you want us to do?” she asked, her hand falling to her side as she took a step back, falling in line with the other Dragon Riders.

Hiccup looked out to the ocean once more before dismounting Toothless—something he didn’t want to do since it gave him a sense of comfort and reassurance, but it didn’t feel right to look down at his friends either—and observed his Dragon Riders. Astrid had a few cuts, most likely from a few spine shots, and her hair was a mess. The cloth bracers on Ruffnut’s left arm were scorched off and the skin beneath was burned and blistering. There was a large slash in Tuffnut’s right thigh and blood was flowing down his leg, being soaked up by his pants and staining the fabric. Meanwhile, his cousin was favoring his left leg and discreetly holding his ribs, however, they were all standing ready and willing to do whatever their leader ordered.

“We need to regroup,” the Head of the Academy finally stated, looking them all over. “Astrid, I need you to provide Commander Huffnut with any assistance she requires. Start by getting her some bandages for her arms. Ruff, Tuff, go with her and provide Gothi with any help she needs. Snotlout, help Finn keep an eye on Alvin, I don’t want him going anywhere.”

“Right,” the shieldmaiden nodded, she didn’t even have to grab the back of either of the twins’ vests to get them moving. They were already mounting Barf and Belch before she could get to Stormfly.

“Got it,” Snotlout grunted, grabbing onto one of Hookfang’s horn and pulling himself up onto the Monstrous Nightmare’s saddle. The two were already in the sky when Meatlug flew back to Berk. The Dragon Root nowhere in sight. Taking a look around at the battlefield and spotting the Night Fury duo near the Academy, the Gronckle rider landed the Boulder-class dragon near Toothless.

Fishlegs looked around as Vikings hustled about. “What did I miss?”

“I’ll fill him in,” Gobber said, using his hook to grab hold of the Gronckle’s saddle, and tugged the two after him. “Come on Fishlegs, you’re going to help me make sure Grump and Neðan protected the village.”

Hiccup nodded his head before a thought struck him. “Also set up a patrol schedule for the Dragon Riders to be on the lookout for any lingering Berserker boats or the Screaming Death.”

“Will do. But you’ll need to get to the Great Hall soon, those who weren’t here will be demanding an explanation,” the blacksmith grunted, waving his free hand about.

“I’ll head over there once we’re done here,” the chief’s son replied as his mentor pulled a confused Fishlegs and Meatlug away, giving him some time to stop and process everything.

Hiccup stood there for a long moment, before going over to the closest corpse. The man was lying face down and the Dragon Rider had to kneel down in an attempt to roll the body over on his back. He struggled with getting the man to turn but a prod from the Night Fury accomplished what he could not.

He didn’t recoil at the sight of blood coming from the stump of an arm that had been lying below the man. Neither did he shed a tear when he caught the unseeing eyes staring blankly into the sky. He knew this man, Liótr, he was a yak farmer and was at the forge a few days ago to order a courtship gift; an axe with a crest engraved in the middle. Hiccup had made the axe, not having anything else to do at the time, and it was waiting for Jackson to get back to add the bindings around the handle. However, it would seem Liótr would never get the chance to pick it up and give it to his beloved.

Reaching out, the auburn-haired teen closed the unseeing eyes of Liótr and whispered a small prayer. Maybe one day, he would meet his beloved again in the Halls of Valhalla. Standing up, Hiccup made his way over to another downed warrior with Toothless by his side. They continued on like that for some time, the chief’s son quickly losing track of time, finding more dead than injured. He only stopped when Astrid came up to him and handed him a flagon of water with instructions from Commander Huffnut for both of them to get to the Great Hall.

He didn’t even remember the flight over but the next thing he was aware of was walking through the massive doors of the Great Hall. The people closest to him were moaning and groaning as Gothi made her way from the most severely injured patient to the next. He spotted Myror—Gothi’s much younger brother and Terrorthi’s father, who was slightly taller than his sister with dark hair and brown eyes—helping those with smaller wounds, bandaging them up while Terrorthi ran between getting him more salves and bandages while Gustav and Snuffnut helped Norbert pass out bowls of gruel.

Further in the Great Hall, the more able bodies and the noncombatant villagers formed a semicircle around Gobber. If Hiccup thought things had looked bad when they brought Alvin in, this was worse. Much worse. Their shouting had increased in volume and the tension in the air was thick and heavy. The blacksmith did his utmost to subdue the roars and shouts from the crowd, but it proved to be futile. Without the chief, things would only get worse.

“We want answers!”

“Tell us the truth!”

“What is going on?”

“Everyone settle down!” Gobber yelled yet no one listened to the blacksmith.

Huffnut, who had seen them enter, walked through the crowd that parted for her without needing any encouragement and retrieved Hiccup, leading him and Astrid up to the front of the crowd to stand beside his mentor. He was surprised to find the other Dragon Riders already off to the side while behind them, the older Dragon Rider Trainees stood at attention. Astrid left his side and took her place next to Snotlout while Toothless stayed by his side.

Nodding his head in gratitude to the Guard Commander, Gobber whistled loudly, finally silencing the crowd. “Hiccup will answer all your questions.”

“Why him?” Spitelout demanded, taking a step forward from where he'd been huddled near the front of the crowd with half of the chief’s council not currently injured at his back while the other half were behind Commander Huffnut.

“He's the acting chief. That's why,” the blacksmith snapped back, looking pointedly at the chief’s brother-in-law. From the looks of it, they seemed to have already had a conversation about who would be acting chief and Spitelout hadn’t come out on the winning end. Seeing the man shrink in submission, Gobber turned towards Hiccup and whispered discreetly to the young teen. “They're all yours”.

“Right,” Hiccup responded absentmindedly as his mentor slowly hobbled over to stand by Finn and the rest of the Dragon Rider Trainees while he had to face dozens of angry and scarred Vikings twice his age and three times his size looking to him for answers all by himself.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Where's Stoick?”

Taking a deep breath, the chief’s son did what his father had done so many times before and held up his hands to chest height. He was surprised when the masses quieted down, not expecting the gesture to work. Still, he cleared his throat and steeled himself for what was to come.

“Good questions,” Hiccup began, having no other starting point to work off of. “Um, as you all know, Berk is no stranger to hard times. But the best thing is to—”

“Take arms!”

“Man the catapults!”

He didn’t even get to make it through a whole sentence before the crowd had started up again. Yelling out their desires and completely ignoring the chief's heir, which he wasn’t surprised at, but wished they would all shut up. He didn’t know how his father handled them day in and day out and dearly wished for his guidance at a time like this.

“Are we really going to let this fishbone lead us?” one of the Vikings chimed in and although it wasn’t Spitelout, Hiccup had a feeling it was one of the man’s supporters.

“He’s a hiccup!”

“We can’t take him seriously!”

SILENCE!

The whole crowd stilled, even those who were wounded and in great pain fell silent for a moment. All looking about for the one who had spoken, their eyes were drawn upwards to the sound of soft chimes as dozens upon dozens of multicolored orbs of light descended from above. Whispers of awe and fear weaved through the crowd as the glowing globes came to conglomerate around Hiccup and the other Dragon Riders along with the younger trainees in the crowd. Some of them even came to rest upon the Dragon Riders' shoulders.

However, it was one icy blue globe that came to a stop a few inches to Hiccup’s right that gathered everyone’s attention. “Listen to thy Dragon Master, for our allegiance and faith lies with him and him alone.”

“You can talk?” Hiccup hissed out under his breath. He never heard any of the Wyldfae speak save for the chimes and rings they emitted.

“We has't yet to master thy tongue; yet, thy Druid did teach us adequately enough,” Periwinkle answered, glowing brighter as her voice became louder for the whole crowd to hear. “Thy Druid Emissary hast did convince us thou art to be trusted and art not the Persecutors of Magic as we hath led to believeth. Because of thy actions to saveth and work with the Magical Creatures of Fire to better this isle and thy younglings' offers of suitable tradeth; we, the Wyldfae of Pixie Hollow, hast did agree to form a provisional alliance with thee as a show of good faith, doth the Dragon Master, ally of the Night Fury, accepteth?”

Toothless discreetly whacked Hiccup’s good leg with his tail and made a gurgling noise which snapped him out of his stunned state. Remembering Jackson’s ramblings about the fae, he bowed to the tiny faerie.

“I agree to a provisional alliance with thee, Periwinkle, Wyldfae of Pixie Hollow,” the chief’s son spoke in the formal tone his father started teaching him since before he could read.

“So mote it be,” Periwinkle bowed back to the auburn-haired teen as the other Wyldfae chimed in, a mixture of tinkering and words filling the air as all the faeries glowed brighter.

“So mote it be,” Hiccup echoed and was surprised when the Dragon Riders and the trainees echoed the words after him. There was a slight tug at him as if something was pulling him from the inside before the sensation disappeared and he was faced with a crowd of Vikings—his people—silenced by their awe. In the very back, he could see both Gothi and Myror gazing up at him in respect and felt like he had accomplished something they had only dreamed of achieving.

“What do you want us to do, Hiccup?” Gobber asked, walking up to stand next to him and no one contradicted him.

Looking around, the chief’s son thought back to Liótr and faced the silent crowd with Periwinkle hovering to one side and Toothless on the other. “Tonight, we honor our dead and give them the proper send-off to Valhalla they deserve. Tomorrow, we get our chief back.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Hiccup made his way through the masses who parted ways for him, the Dragon Riders and the Wyldfae following behind him. Once they were outside, the Head of the Dragon Academy instructed them to help with the funeral pyres and to head to bed afterwards. There was some hesitation, but they all agreed in the end and headed out to gather wood for the abundance of pyres needed that night. The Wyldfae, under Periwinkle’s instruction, split up to help with the funerals and force the Dragon Riders to rest.

Astrid stayed behind along with a dark-eyed fae—Nyx if Hiccup remembered correctly—who had determined it was her duty to look after the shieldmaiden. Unlike the other Wyldfae, the dark-haired, fair-skinned Dewdrop Faerie’s whole body was clothed from head to toe in what looked like some type of brown leather uniform with a green tree crest printed across her chest and a black shirt underneath that matched her boots. In her tiny hands, she held a small quill as if it were a dangerous weapon.

The shieldmaiden waited until the others were out of earshot before bluntly stating her view, the molten orange orb by her shoulder bobbing up and down in agreement. “We’re not going to ambush Dagur, I know we’re not because I know you Hiccup, so what is the real plan?”

Hiccup gave a wry smile, letting his worry and fear eat away at his features. “I’ll tell you when I know myself. Go home, Astrid, and make sure your family’s alright.”

“Only if you get some rest too,” the Deadly Nadder rider shot back.

“Doth not feareth, Shieldmaiden, I shalt maketh sure thy Dragon Master rests before the sunrises,” Periwinkle guaranteed her which appeared to work as those blue eyes of hers contemplated him for a moment before Astrid bid him farewell. A pointed look from the little fae had him heading off towards his hut or risk making a liar out of Periwinkle and Hiccup did not want to anger the little Dewdrop Faerie.

The chief’s son was expecting to enter a cold dark hut, absent of life since his father usually kept the hearth going. Yet, when he opened the door to his home, a flood of warmth washed out and enveloped the dragon and his rider. Light poured out from the blazing hearth as clattering could be heard from further within. Green eyes blinked a few times when he found Gobber standing by the fire, stirring a huge pot of something in the cauldron Jackson favored when cooking.

Hiccup closed the door behind them as he made his way over to his mentor who had yet to take notice of his arrival. When he passed by the table, vivid green eyes were drawn to his father’s favorite axe innocently resting on the massive chair. Changing course, he grabbed hold of the axe’s hilt. He had to use both hands to pick the weapon up whilst he knew his father only needed a single hand. A bowl was set down on the table next to him and he, in turn, sat the axe back down.

“You know, Hiccup, there's nothing easy about chiefing,” Gobber said a moment after the acting chief let out a heavy sigh and sat in his own chair. “You should've seen Stoick when he first took over. He was like a newborn yak trying to find his feet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Hiccup mumbled watching the blacksmith hobble back around the table to grab a large cod, throwing it to Toothless. The Night Fury lunged up and grabbed the fish out of the air, but he didn’t immediately swallow. Instead, the dragon set it down and pushed the fish around lazily with his nose before laying down and staring out longingly. “Gobber, I saw Spitelout tonight, he was one step away from shoving me aside and taking over if it hadn’t been for Periwinkle and the rest of the Wyldfae stepping in.”

It was his mentor’s turn to sigh loudly as he watched Hiccup. Just like the dragon, the Dragon Rider was also listlessly pushing his food around in his bowl using a spoon before setting the utensil to the side and resting his head on his fisted hand. Periwinkle hovering worriedly over him, yet she made no move to comfort him. Gobber shook his head and sighed again, sending a silent prayer to Odin before walking over and grabbing the back of the teen’s chair with his hook. He proceeded to yank the chair out and around with Hiccup still in it, so the teenager was facing him.

“It's true. In fact, there were some in this town that didn't think Stoick had it in him. Alvin, for one. He wouldn't shut up about it,” the blacksmith explained, blue eyes holding on to vivid green orbs despite his apprentice’s best efforts to look away. “Hiccup, being chief doesn't mean everyone's going to agree with you. Sometimes you have to deal with the Alvins and Spitelouts of the world.”

“I feel like that's all I do,” Hiccup slumped back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Green eyes finally broke eye contact, diverting down and to the side.

Gobber took a step back, both literal and metaphorical, and tried a different tactic. “They were best friends, you know.”

“Who?” the teenager asked disinterested but went along with the conversation, not even bothering to look up.

“Alvin and Stoick. They were inseparable since birth,” auburn-haired flew up as green eyes snapped to attention.

“So what happened? What… changed?” Hiccup pushed himself up in the chair to sit upright.

The blacksmith didn’t appear as if he was going to say anything more, but as a wretched look crossed his face, the blond Viking forced himself to answer. “Everything.”

He wanted to ask what his mentor meant, what had caused the rift between his father and the Outcast but he wasn’t given the chance. Toothless’s head shot up as the Night Fury’s ear-plates began twitching wildly before the door burst open. Fishlegs didn’t even stop to close the door as he ran straight towards the Head of the Academy, but it was the bright yellow light that reached him first.

The dark-skinned Dewdrop Faerie with a yellow flower for a dress hit his nose, unable to stop in time. Her black hair, which had been rounded up in an updo, fell down in tiny little braids as brown eyes blinked rapidly as little chimes left the tiny fae. Apparently, Iridessa wasn’t one of the Wyldfae who had learned to speak their language, luckily Fishlegs was there.

“Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup!” the Gronckle rider had to stop in the middle of the room, leaning over and panting as he tried to catch his breath, but it didn’t keep him from trying to convey his message. “Screaming! … Coming! … Oh.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hiccup said, moving around Iridessa to get to the heavyset Viking’s side as he fell to his knees in a quivering mess. Patting Fishlegs on the shoulder, the acting chief worked to calm his friend down. “Take a breath there, Fishlegs.”

“I was on patrol with Meatlug and Iridessa,” the blond teenager spoke after taking a deep breath and pushing himself back onto his feet. Though Hiccup wasn’t prepared for the heavier Dragon Rider to throw himself at him, grabbing him by the shoulders as fingers dug into the green fabric of his shirt. “The Screaming Death, we saw it. It's eating its way to Berk.”

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy didn’t remember freeing himself from Fishlegs’s grip, but he did have a destination in mind as he sprinted out of the hut. Not a lot could be seen in the dark sky, which had him guessing it would be around the middle of the night, yet his feet knew the village better than he thought and he didn’t slip once as he reached the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Toothless was right next to him, releasing a giant earsplitting roar while his ear-plates moved about agitatedly, using his echolocation to search for any signs of the Screaming Death.

“How much time do we have?” Hiccup asked when Fishlegs came jogging up to stand on his other side, never taking his eyes off of the dark ocean he could only hear lapping at the rocks below.

“Not much. It was just off Dragon Island when we saw it,” the Gronckle rider answered as two orbs of light—one yellow, the other icy-blue—circled around the two riders. A screech had their heads shooting up to the night sky to locate Stormfly’s silhouette gliding down towards them. The Deadly Nadder landed just a few feet off, yet Astrid was already out of the saddle before Stormfly could land.

The shieldmaiden’s feet had barely hit the ground before she made a beeline towards them with a molten orange glow guiding her way. All of this happened in only a matter of moments which didn’t give Hiccup any time to speak up as a large scroll was shoved into his hand. Astrid’s own hands shaking slightly, the only indication betraying her frayed nerves of her otherwise composed demeanor.

“This came for you,” the Deadly Nadder rider informed him even as he started to untie the leather cord keeping the scroll rolled tight. “It's from Dagur.”

Hiccup momentarily stilled before he continued to unroll the scroll, grumbling under his breath sarcastically. “And the hits just keep on coming.”

“Well, what does it say?” Astrid prompted, despite her leader having just started to read the contents within, using the light from the three fae to read with. Granted, with green eyes zipping across the page, he was able to answer her.

“We have until tonight to deliver Toothless, or my father will—” Hiccup abruptly stopped, crumbling the scroll up and throwing it with all his might. He didn’t even need to tell Toothless to destroy the offending scroll as a plasma blast had already incinerated it.

“It's a trap, you know that,” the shieldmaiden tried to calm his raging emotions down, Nyx chiming in her agreement. “If we fly anywhere near Outcast Island—”

Hiccup didn’t let her finish; he already knew what she was going to say but it wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. “Okay, listen, you guys get Snotlout and the twins. You tell them to be ready for the Screaming Death.”

“What about your father?”

“I'll handle that,” the Night Fury rider answered Astrid, a determined note to his voice.


As the night began to give way to dawn, Hiccup stood on the cliffs of Berk overlooking the ocean. Vivid green eyes affixed in the direction Outcast Island lay far out of his sight, but he knew it was there. Toothless stood at his side with Periwinkle resting on his head and growled. A sentiment the Wyldfae echoed with an angry chime of her own and a slur she could not have learned from Jackson muttered under her breath.

“Don't worry, Dad,” Hiccup spoke with an unwavering resolve, an edge to his voice that had never been there before. “We're gonna get both of you back, no matter what it takes. You and Jackson will come home.”

Toothless growled, before letting out a deafening roar which was picked up by the howling winds.

Notes:

So, Dagur kidnaps Jackson…and that's how I'm leaving it for now…(going to go hide where readers won't find me. Siberia maybe…?)

Just be glad I didn't end the chapter right after Dagur got away. I was really tempted to leave it there, but continued on.

Chapter 45: Out of Time

Notes:

Misdirect is my friend! While you were all searching for me in Siberia, I was sipping piña colada in the Bahamas (I wish). XP

Chapter Text

Stoick surveyed his surroundings. His captor—the bastard who had knocked Jackson out—had taken great pleasure in chaining him to the mast of the Berserker's flagship for all to bear witness to his indignity. He heard countless jeers and taunts as haggard soldiers fell back yet the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe held his head high. Not once did he grace them with any type of response. They lost after all. The Berserkers and conquered Outcasts were the ones retreating, his tribe had forced them out. It was only because Dagur had taken the coward’s way out that he was here.

His positive outlook rapidly deteriorated when he caught sight of Savage bringing an unconscious Jackson aboard moments before they shoved off. Stoick tried to keep an eye on the boy, yet the former Outcast took him down into the ship’s cabin and he hadn’t seen the unconscious Druid since. The chief counted his blessings that he hadn’t seen Dagur as they shoved off and sailed out. He hoped the Outcast Vikings—who mainly made up the men aboard the ship—would abandon the deranged Berserker, but he had no real way of confirming the assumption.

All he could do was stand there and mark their passage out to sea by the familiar sea stacks they passed by. When that was no longer an available option, he marked the distance by the outlying islands. By his calculations, they were halfway to Outcast Island when another longboat pulled up alongside the flagship and Dagur jumped across the distances between the two ships, shattering any hope he had of the Berserker chief’s demise to pieces.

The deranged Viking landed on the ledge of the flagship and took a step down onto the deck as if it was nothing. Savage immediately ran up to the young man and bowed lowly to him, resulting in the sniveling rat getting kicked in the face. The Outcast went down and Dagur casually observed the deck of his flagship as if he hadn’t done a thing wrong. Upon spotting Stoick tied to the mast, a maniacal grin graced the demented Viking’s face.

“I trust you're finding your accommodations adequate?” Dagur asked, waltzing over to the bound Viking. A concerned look crossed his face as if he was assessing the treatment of the Chief of Berk at his men’s hands. “Gosh, those ropes look awfully tight.”

He grabbed a former Outcast Viking passing by and threw the man towards the massive chief. The Outcast stumbled and glanced back at the deranged Viking with wide eyes, unsure what his new chief expected of him. A growing look of annoyance on Dagur’s face had the Viking petrified to the spot and it looked like Stoick was about to witness a homicide other than his own.

His eyes were spared when Savage staggered to the man’s rescue, holding his bleeding nose with one hand while using his other hand to gesture wildly about. The mimed action of tightening ropes had the Outcast frantically nodding his head in understanding before rushing to tighten the bindings around Stoick. A grunt of pain was forced out of the older chief’s lips, which had the Berserkers’ chief grinning madly.

“Don't go getting too cozy, Stoick. Look at it this way—” the redhead strolled around the mast, disappearing from Stoick’s sight, “—by sundown tomorrow, you'll either be back on Berk… or…. at the bottom of the ocean. It's really up to Hiccup.” Dagur popped up around the other side, looking disenchanted. “Oof. Wow, can't feel too good about that. Savage, deliver this ultimatum to Berk.”

The deranged Viking pulled a scroll from his pouch and handed it to Savage, shoving the man towards one of the small boats. Four Berserkers were already waiting to lower the boat—already positioned towards Berk—into the water. One of the larger Berserker soldiers went so far as to grab the back of Savage’s tunic, bodily picking him up with no hesitation, and shoved him into the small wooden vessel which did not appear to be in the best of conditions. With a nod of his head, the other three Vikings let go of the ropes and the boat fell through the air, landing with a splash. Savage’s screams were heard by all.

“I’d give him to midnight for the message to be delivered,” Dagur said, looking over the edge of the longboat with glee. “We’ll be back on Outcast Island by then.”

“And what of Jackson?” Stoick finally broke his silence, causing the young chief to turn and look at him in confusion. “You said I’d be back on Berk by sundown tomorrow, but what of Jackson?”

The maniacal grin Dagur turned on the other chief almost split his face in two. “To the victor goes the spoils… of war.”


Hiccup wanted to explode; wanted to yell, to scream, to cry, but he had to keep his composure, He couldn't be seen leaving the jailhouse in such a state and hurried to climb onto Toothless's back. No one informed him the rarely used jailhouse was filled to capacity and that the commander had arranged for some of the prisoners to be held within the Academy, using the dragon stalls as makeshift cells. Alvin had been one of those prisoners.

The flight was made in record time, not that either dragon or rider cared about the new achievement. The acting chief barely had time to unhook himself from the harness and dismount as he made his way on foot to the entrance. Periwinkle—somehow—had already arrived and was hovering in front of the two Guards waiting for him. Both of them were already drawing back their spears to allow her entrance along with Hiccup and Toothless. A third Guard member hoisted the gate, pulling the chain to create an opening since the mechanism hadn’t been fixed and probably wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon.

Hiccup gave a brief inclination of his head in thanks before heading into the Academy. He didn’t bother looking at the other cells and their many prisoners. His eyes were already affixed to the cell housing Alvin, who had a whole dragon stall to himself. The former Outcast chief apparently had seen him coming and headed to the front of the stall to meet the newest bane of his existence.

“So how'd that tribal meeting go? Sounds like you had 'em right in the palm of your hand,” the Outcast mocked as his large hands wrapped around the latticed iron bars. His chuckles were dark and ominous, sending a spike of unease through Hiccup. Toothless gave out a growl in warning, but it was Periwinkle, inches from the iron gate, that had Alvin jerking back.

“Hold thy tongue, mortal, thou art speaking to the Dragon Master!” the tiny Dewdrop Faerie snarled as ice formed on the iron and the Outcast Viking hastily let go with a yelp. The tips of his fingers were already exhibiting the symptoms of prolonged exposure to the cold at the briefest of contact and if he hadn’t been watching, the auburn-haired teen wouldn’t have believed the sweet little fae could do such damage. Neither would he have believed she had that kind of power. “Doth not tempteth me or suffer the consequences of breaking thy oath to a fae. The Winter King shall not be merciful.”

“That’s enough Periwinkle,” Hiccup held the Wyldfae off as he eyed how the lattice of iron was now mostly covered in frost. He was kind of curious to know who this Winter King the Dewdrop Faerie spoke of was but pushed the thought aside. Instead, he opened the gate, being mindful not to touch the ice or let the iron come in contact with the fae, and waited.

“Well, this is awkward,” Alvin said, taking a hesitant step forward but only one. Toothless's snarls as ice slowly crept across the ground towards him had the former Outcast chief properly cowed. “Do I stay? Do I go?”

“Both, you are gonna show me a way into Outcast Island,” the Dragon Rider peremptory said, causing the former chief to look at him warily. He obviously didn’t like the options open to him. “We're going there together, Alvin. We're going to bring both my father and Jackson home.”

“Ah,” the large man nodded, a look of understanding dawning across his features followed by a much more sinister expression.

“And if thou think of betraying us, the Winter King hast did lay claimeth on thy eternal soul,” Periwinkle helpfully added which had the sinister expression melting away into one of horror.  Hiccup could only speculate what the Wyldfae was insinuating and had to wonder when the two had met before because it was becoming clear to him, that Alvin's fear of Periwinkle wasn't unfounded.

“Follow me,” the Heir of the Tribe commanded as he headed back towards the iron gate, the Guards already had it opened since they had been eavesdropping in on his conversation, along with everyone else in the vicinity. A few of the other prisoners were scrambling to get to the back of their stalls and as far away from Periwinkle as possible as she floated by, leading the way.

Alvin was forced to follow by means of a well-placed plasma blast dangerously close to taking off his left foot. The Guards took their own revenge by tripping the Outcast as he passed by, which Hiccup chose to ignore since it gave Toothless time to come around Alvin to his rider’s side. Swinging up onto the Night Fury’s back, the auburn-haired teenager secured his harness to the saddle and then looked over at Periwinkle with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Hiccup looked around the framed dome of the Academy, searching the Terrible Terrors perched there. Sitting almost unnoticed behind the two Guards, Head and Butt perched on either side of the gate. One moment, Sneaky was curled up on top of the third Guard manning the gate and gone the next. Izzy circled around the Academy; stopping every now and then to land and stared down at the prisoners below to make sure none of them had escaped. He had seen Pain inside the dome, nipping at any prisoners who got too close to their cell doors and would occasionally shoot off a volley of fire to intimidate those he found lacking. Then there was Sharpshot perched at the very top of the dome, giving out little chirps now and again that one of the other Terrible Terrors would answer.

Whistling, the green Terrible Terror perked up and flew over to land on Hiccup’s outstretched arm. “Think you can give Periwinkle a ride to Outcast Island? I don’t want her to get lost while we're out at sea.”

Sharpshot screeched and ruffled his wings before head-butting the acting chief in the chin affectionately.

“I wouldst be just fine flying myself, Dragon Master,” Periwinkle offered, eyeing the Terrible Terror with a tad bit of trepidation.

“And I would feel better if you had some help,” Hiccup replied, scratching underneath the little dragon’s chin which had the little guy letting out a thrill of pleasure. “I don’t want to be the one to tell Jackson when he gets back that we lost you while flying to rescue him.”

“Very well then, I shalt doth as thee wisheth, Dragon Master,” the orb of icy blue light bowed and climbed onto the Terrible Terror’s back. Sharpshot took a moment to adjust to the foreign feeling and then took to the air, waiting for further instructions.

“Climb on, Alvin, it’s a long way to Outcast Island and we intend to get there before the midday meal,” the acting chief called out as one of the Guard’s ‘helped’ the Outcast and shoved him towards the teen.

Alvin hesitantly stood to the side of the Night Fury, not appearing as if he was going to be moving any time soon. Toothless solved the problem by whipping his tail out and around, smacking the man’s legs which had him stumbling forward. After that, he climbed on behind Hiccup without further prompting and before he was situated, the dragon took off with Sharpshot and Periwinkle following. Although, Hiccup knew the takeoff was deliberately bumpier than normal and Alvin definitely didn’t appreciate the extra turbulence judging by the grunts and flaying of his arms.

When the Outcast grabbed hold of his shoulders for stability and purchase, tightening to the point of pain, that was when Hiccup determined he would have to actually talk with the man again. “You mind loosening up that death grip a little bit?”

Alvin laughed nervously to hide his discomfort as his grip loosened, barely. “Sorry, they all tend to be death grips.”

Toothless didn’t deem the answer appropriate as the next flap of his wings extended way too far upwards, smacking the dark-haired man on both sides of his head. A grunt of pain escaped Alvin before one of his hands let go of Hiccup’s shoulder—giving it a much-needed reprieve—to hold on to his aching head.

“Toothless, no!” the Dragon Rider chastised. However, it was all for show as the Dragon Rider leaned forward to give Toothless a smirk befitting of Jackson and the dragon gave a small gurgle of approval. Periwinkle’s tinkering laughter didn’t go amiss either.

Another silence fell upon them as they flew onwards, giving Hiccup some time to think. Thinking which led to countless scenarios running through his head about his father and Jackson at the hands of Dagur. About the outcome of what could happen to Berk if his mission failed. If Dagur didn’t keep his word and his father was already dead.

Hiccup hated the silence. He did not want to think. Didn’t want to imagine all the worst-case scenarios. Without meaning to, he blurted out the question that had been nagging him from the back of his mind for a while now. A question no one else was willing to answer.

“So word on the street is… you and my father used to be best friends,” the chief’s son somehow managed to make the comment sound casual.

“Yeah, that was a long time ago,” Alvin answered, his tone distant and far off. The man’s weight leaned away from the Dragon Rider and Hiccup felt the need to look back to see if Alvin hadn’t fallen off. The Outcast was still there, but his eyes were glaring off into the distance at nothing in particular.

“So what changed?” Hiccup asked, shifting the tailfin as they hit a bout of crosswinds and he was forced to compensate.

“Your father and I were young Vikings charged with defending Berk against dragon attacks,” the Outcast began the forbidden tale. “Stoick was the chief's son, so he was in command. I was just a soldier. Sound familiar?”

“It does,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy agreed, not bothering to look back and give Alvin the pleasure of seeing his discomfort. “Sounds a bit like me and Snotlout.”

The older Viking wasn’t discouraged by the short response and continued. “Yeah, well, anyway, there was a Monstrous Nightmare attack one night, your father and I disagreed on how to defend the village. Well, I disobeyed orders, and there were a few… injuries—" deaths Hiccup concluded at Alvin's hesitation, “—things were never the same after that. When Stoick became chief, it was only a matter of time before he banished me.”

“Well, on that cheery note, we've arrived,” the auburn-haired teenager said—and sent a grateful prayer to Odin—upon catching sight of Outcast Island off in the distance. He had nudged Toothless forward to fly closer to the ocean, reducing the likelihood of them being spotted between the sharp jagged rocks protruding from the ocean.

“Let's get on with it,” Alvin agreed, pointing towards the island.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hiccup pulled Toothless to a halt so they were hovering within a cluster of the sharp rocks. Sharpshot landed on one of the boulders, either to take a break or in preparations to attack the Outcast if he made even one wrong move, the Dragon Rider didn’t know. “We can't just fly over the island, Alvin. They're going to be expecting us.”

“I'm well aware of that. We're not flying over the island, we're flying under it,” the haggard man retorted and pointed to the water below. He then, quite unexpectedly, shoved his foot on top of Hiccup’s metal prosthetic, shifting the tailfin closed. The response was immediate and Toothless began thrashing, fighting gravity to keep upright without his much-needed tailfin. “Hold your breath.”

“What are you doing?” the Dragon Rider shouted back, frantically struggling to shift the tailfin open.

“Dive, dragon, dive!” Alvin bellowed.

“No, Toothless,” Hiccup's distress was muffled by the Outcast's yelp. His boot grinding into the top of the metal prosthetic was struck by a ball of flame which quickly burnt out, only to be covered by a layer of frost.

With the Outcast preoccupied, Hiccup was able to dislodge the man’s foot and restore his control over the tailfin, stabilizing their flight even as the Night Fury’s paws grazed the surface of the water.

“What? I thought you were gonna trust me,” the dark-haired Viking spoke, his sickly-sweet tone of sincerity returning as he took in the Terrible Terror puffing up on one side and the glaring Dewdrop Faerie on his other side. “Moment of truth, boy.”

The chief’s son had to give it a moment of thought, before looking over at Periwinkle. “Will you be able to make it?”

Periwinkle glared one last time at Alvin and nodded her head tersely. “I shalt be fine, doth not concern yourself with mine own well-being, Dragon Master.”

Not giving it another thought, Hiccup tucked Sharpshot and Periwinkle close to his body inside his vest and used one arm to wrap around them protectively. “Do it, Bud! Just do it!”

This time it was the Dragon Rider who skillfully closed the tailfin even as Toothless snarled his displeasure at the situation. Moments before they hit the water’s surface, deep breaths of air were greedily gulped down followed by the shocking cold of the ocean engulfing them. Saltwater burned at his eyes, but Hiccup fought to keep them open as the Outcast directed them further and further down into the watery depths.

A jab towards a pile of rocks had Toothless swimming through an almost hidden cavern. One which led them into an underground cave filled with blessed air. Gasps of breath echoed off the slick rocks as Hiccup fought to unhook his harness from the saddle allowing both dragon and rider to climb out of the water and onto the rocky ledge where Alvin already stood, doing his best to wring the water out of his clothing.

Sharpshot and Toothless had an easier time of drying off by shaking the water off their slick scales. Periwinkle, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky as the water clung to her delicate wings which distressed the little Wyldfae. The Terrible Terror—after his head was sufficiently dried—was kind enough to help via a small fireball close enough to the fae to quickly dry her off, but not close enough to cause any harm. She gave him a thankful smile and flew up into the air to test her wings before flying over to kiss Sharpshot on his little horn in gratitude.

“That tunnel will take us directly to the heart of the island,” Alvin motioned to a previously unnoticed tunnel which might have been a natural formation at one point but had obviously been expanded by human hands.

“Wait,” Hiccup held up his hand, blocking the Outcast from taking any further steps. “How do you know Dagur hasn't found this tunnel?”

“Because I got a man on the inside who assures me that it's clean,” the former chief of the island confidently grinned, pushing the teen’s arm aside and walking through the cave. Left with no other choice but to follow, the Dragon Rider quickly fell into step behind the mountain of a man. Periwinkle chimed softly before flittering about Hiccup before taking up residency on his shoulder, extinguishing her light, to prevent giving away their position while Toothless and Sharpshot brought up the rear.

They walked in silence for the first couple hundred feet before it was replaced by the faint growls of dragons coming from further within the tunnel. It took Hiccup a bit, but he eventually identified the dragons from their growls alone. The whimpering though, that was clearly human in nature and one he’d heard before too. Rounding the corner, Alvin shoved aside a large boulder to grant them access to a chamber Hiccup was familiar with. It was the very same cavern he’d been held prisoner in a year prior, a few months before Jackson had arrived on Berk.

Most of the cells were still filled with dragons, yet there was only one species and not the multitude of dragons Alvin was last known to have. All of these dragons were the familiar form of Whispering Deaths, growling and snapping at the bars of their cages. In front of one of the enclosures stood an elderly man busy throwing fish to the displeased Boulder-class dragons, terrified out of his skin with a sheep hiding behind his scrawny legs.

“Mildew?” Hiccup recognized the traitor. Turning to Alvin and pointing his finger accusingly at the older man. “This traitor is your man on the inside?”

The sheep turned and when it saw Toothless, bleated loudly and made an attempt to run between the grey-haired man’s legs. Mildew turned around and dropped the bucket of fish at the sight of the Night Fury stalking closer to him, teeth exposed while emitting low menacing growls. The traitor held up his staff in a futile attempt to defend himself, but Toothless easily grabbed the piece of wood and wrenched it from Mildew’s weak grip.

“Well, he's always been faithful to me,” Alvin pointed out, causing the old man to look over towards the Outcast like he was Thor. But Alvin made no move to help free him from his current predicament and just watched as Toothless stalked closer, cornering Mildew and his sheep.

“Oh, well, there's that warm, fuzzy feeling I was looking for,” the acting chief snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and getting a good look at the quivering old man with the scattered fish lying around him. “Mildew, I have to say I never thought I'd see the day you'd be playing nanny to a nursery of dragons.”

“An interesting turn of events, to say the least,” Mildew agreed, pushing himself up to lean up against the cage behind him only to jump forward when the Whispering Death in the cell lunged at the iron latticed gate; displeased at the lack of food.

“So this is where all those Whispering Death eggs you planted came from,” Hiccup remarked, walking around the trembling waste of a human and peering into the cell to see countless more eggs tucked as far in the back as possible.

“His idea…” Alvin pointed the finger elsewhere as he came up beside the teen, “and not a very good one, at that.”

“So this Whispering Death laid all the eggs?” the Head of the Dragon Academy asked, picking up one of the fish and throwing it to the hungry mother dragon. She caught it and devoured it in one go. Eyeing him, the mother dragon came right up to the bars of the cage and nudged her head against his side the best she could in hopes of getting more.

“Every one,” Mildew agreed, picking up another fish and offering it to the Whispering Death. The mother dragon turned from her pleasant self and became wild and unruly once more, nearly snapping the old Viking’s hand off.

“Which would include a large red egg?” Hiccup ventured a guess as he took the fish from the paling man’s unsteady hands to offer it to the Boulder-class dragon. The Whispering Death, in turn, gently took it from his hand.

“Odd, that one, I was wondering about it. How did it turn out?” the quivering Viking inquired, fighting to keep his voice steady and even, failing spectacularly.

Vivid green eyes looked back at the mother dragon—remembering the Screaming Death—and held out his hand, allowing her to place her head trustingly into the offered appendage. “Eh… big.”

Mildew just clicked his tongue and nodded his head disapprovingly, humming and hawing. Hiccup paid him no mind, pulling his hand back from the Whispering Death and searching his pockets for some parchment. He cursed when he realized he had none on him, wishing he had pouches like Jackson to keep supplies on him in case of emergencies like this.

“What are you doing?” Alvin asked, watching as he patted down his pockets.

“Sending a message home,” the teenager answered absentmindedly, turning his head towards the Outcast he caught a glimpse of Periwinkle on his shoulder. He didn’t have parchment, but he had the next best thing. “That red egg turned out to be a Screaming Death. It's been destroying whole islands looking for something, and now it's headed to Berk, but I think I might know what it's really looking for. Periwinkle, do you think you and Sharpshot can deliver a message for me?”

“Forsooth, Dragon Master,” the Dewdrop Faerie answered. Flying off of his shoulder, she hovered before the Dragon Rider’s face to give him a small bow. Mildew, in contrast, let out a screech and pointed at the ball of icy blue light, babbling incoherently as Hiccup had the fae repeat the message to make sure she remembered. Alvin, finally having enough of his constant jabbering, elbowed the elderly man in the gut and ended up knocking the wind out of him.

“All right. Here's our plan—” Alvin said as soon as Sharpshot took off down the tunnel with Periwinkle on his back. The two would be able to bypass the Berserkers without any trouble since they would be on the lookout for much larger dragons approaching the island and would—hopefully—overlook the tiny Terrible Terror leaving.

“Uh, no offense, there, Alvin, but your plans are terrible. Here's what we need to do,” Hiccup cut him off before the former Outcast chief could even get started.

It took a little while to get things prepared, but once they were ready—although Hiccup wasn’t sure if he could trust either of the traitorous men—the Dragon Rider headed up to the surface. The plan was almost flawless, in theory. The only problem in the otherwise flawless plan was the old Viking hadn’t known Jackson was on the island and thus didn’t know where to find the Druid. The first step in their plan was for Toothless and his rider to sneak into the Dragon Killing arena where Mildew had confirmed Dagur was keeping his father.

To do so, Hiccup and Toothless had to creep across the island which the auburn-haired teenager found to be a bit too easy. His concerns were put to rest when he spotted the majority of the Outcast guards patrolling around the arena where they had his father held captive. The Dragon Rider counted four guards from his position behind the outermost hut before having to duck back behind the structure or risk being seen.

“Okay, Bud. It's show time,” the teenager whispered, climbing into Toothless’s saddle. He didn’t even bother to secure his harness, his need to move freely at a moment's notice outweighing his need for safety.

The Night Fury grunted before bounding across the surface, not wanting to give away their position by taking to the skies just yet. Even on land, Toothless was fast and precise. The dragon was able to take out the guards Hiccup made note of with plasma blasts and render them unconscious in a matter of seconds. From there, it was simple to slip through the gates of the Dragon Killing arena.

Once hidden in the shadows, Hiccup dismounted and pulled his shield from Toothless’s saddle. Cautiously, he crept into the open arena. Surveying the area and taking one step at a time proved to be the smart choice as he yanked the shield up and deflected a bola away from his face. Toothless let loose a low growl when Berserkers sprang forth from their hiding places, slinging weapons at them.

The Night Fury was forced to jump back as three additional bolas flew in his direction, destroying a fourth with a plasma blast. Hiccup wasn’t having any luck of his own, being pushed away from the dragon as he too was bombarded with bolts.

“Toothless, look out!” the Dragon Rider shouted, glancing over in time to see a large cage fall from above, trapping the Strike-class dragon. Toothless’s roar at his sudden confinement had a few of the guards flinching and a few scrambled back as a plasma blast hit the iron but didn't free the enraged dragon. Throwing his weight against the metal bars did nothing but confirm what his rider already feared.

Toothless was truly trapped.

“Welcome back to Outcast Island, Hiccup,” Savage snidely remarked as he strolled out of one of the stalls that several Berserkers and Outcasts had used for cover during the ambush and, even now, more soldiers were pouring out to surround him with weapons pointed dangerously close to his body. Toothless’s hostility increased, shaking the whole cage with another blast but the bars didn’t give.

Dagur cackled, coming out of his hiding space, sauntering straight towards the Night Fury, and grinning down at those narrowed acid green eyes. “You're finally mine. All mine.”

The deranged man walked around the cage to get better a look at the Night Fury but Toothless wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction and kept moving around, maintaining eye contact with his captor the entire time. Pearly white teeth glistened in the light, the fangs so sharp Dagur started murmuring to himself what they would do to his enemies. Hiccup could see the shivers of fear—or, it very well could have been in pleasure—running down the Berserker chief’s spine at every growl coming from the Night Fury.

“First thing we're gonna do is change that name,” Dagur began walking away from his caged prize and over to the group of Vikings surrounding Hiccup. The Dragon Rider, for his part, struggled to make a move, only for one of the soldiers to almost cut his throat wide open with the sharp blade. To add insult to injury, the guard then divested him of his shield.

“It makes no sense. Look at all those teeth,” the deranged Viking continued, gesturing to Toothless’s teeth. He had to pull his hand back or risk losing it. Leaning forward, Dagur growled right back at the Night Fury and brandished his own sword from its sheath on his back, pointing it at Toothless. “You'll learn to respect me, dragon… Or I'll wear you as a hat.”

“Leave him alone, Dagur!” Hiccup snarled, making another attempt to move forward only for two different Berserkers to grab hold of his arms and pull him back. The auburn-haired teenager struggled against his captors but they had the distinct advantage of being fully grown adults and twice his size.

“Put him with his father. We'll dispose of them later,” Dagur ordered, waving his sword around dismissively as he eyed Toothless. The weapon was only put away when one of his men presented him with the Gronckle Iron shield and the redhead yanked Hiccup’s shield from the man’s grasp. The deranged Viking turned the weapon this way and that before sliding it on his arm with a demented smile.


“Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow! Painful message. Painful message!” Snotlout shrieked frantically as he ran into the blacksmith stall where the Academy members had taken up operations since their Academy had been repurposed. The burnt orange and icy blue lights belonging to Fawn and Periwinkle followed closely behind the Monstrous Nightmare rider.

The other Dragon Riders turned to look for the problem and found Sharpshot’s jaw latched onto Snotlout’s left forearm. Ruffnut and Tuffnut immediately jumped to help with their two Wyldfae guardians Gliss—a small white-haired fae with icy-blue eyes who wore a blue outfit similar to Periwinkle—and Rumble—a muscular dark-haired, blue-eyed male with a dark indigo and silver outfit—flying over each of their shoulders respectively. Together the twins grabbed ahold of the green Terrible Terror and pulled while Snotlout worked to remove Sharpshot's teeth from his skin. They succeeded in freeing the Monstrous Nightmare rider’s arm, sending him sprawling onto the floor, while Ruffnut cradled the Terrible Terror in her arms, cooing at the weary dragon.

“Whoa! Is that your skin in his mouth?” Tuffnut asked, pointing at a row of Sharpshot’s fangs.

“That must hurt,” his sister agreed, chuckling as she stroked the Terrible Terror before looking over at her brother. An evil expression overtook her features as she glanced back at the dragon in her arms and then at the blonde Viking once more.

A second later, Sharpshot was hurled at Tuffnut, and on instinct, the little dragon reacted by attacking Tuffnut’s face. Belch’s rider screeches of pain were ignored by the other Dragon Riders save for his sister who was laughing hysterically.

“Wah! Ow! Argh! Yeah, definitely hurts,” Tuffnut confirmed as Gliss and Rumble worked to dislodge the now livid dragon. While the twins had their fun, the other Academy members surrounded one of the tables, listening to Periwinkle.

“What does Hiccup want?” Fishlegs asked, wringing his hands together as Iridessa zipped back and forth over his head.

“Thy Dragon Master hast an idea to standeth against the Screaming Death,” the icy-blue fae informed them as Nyx and Astrid nodded their heads in agreement. “But thy must lure the Screaming Death to Outcast Island.”

“Okay, what could we use to lure it?” Tuffnut asked, rubbing his nose where Sharpshot had been latched on to a moment prior, and threw a glare over at the Terrible Terror being fed pieces of fish by Gliss and Rumble.

“It likes eating islands,” Ruffnut offered up, holding up a small stone from Jackson’s workbench. Both twins hummed as they looked at the shiny stone. Entranced by the stone before the blond Viking suddenly slammed his hands onto the bench.

“Ha! That's it!” Belch’s rider cried out, gaining everyone’s attention. “We need to find a really tiny island and a really big rope,” he declared snatching the stone from his sister and retrieving a small cord of leather, wrapping it around the stone to dangle in the air for all to see. However, looking at his new creation, a glaring problem came to mind. “Who do we talk to about the rope?”

The shieldmaiden couldn’t hold in her frustration and punched Tuffnut in the arm, eliciting a cry of pain.

“What about the Dragon Root?” Fishlegs offered as Iridessa nodded her head vigorously, excited chimes coming from a couple of the other Wyldfae.

“Eh! And you thought my tiny island idea was dumb. Dragon Root. I mean, a rope can be infinitely big,” the Viking with blond dreadlocks grumbled, rubbing his arm and chuckling at the absurdity of the Gronckle rider’s suggestion.

“Great idea, Fishlegs. Gobber locked the Dragon Root up, so we could get rid of it,” Astrid spoke over the Thorston, her excitement building now that they actually had a plan to work off of.

“Just one problem,” Snotlout snarled with one arm folded across his chest while the other was held out for Fawn to inspect. “All our dragons go nuts when they go anywhere near it.”

Fishlegs shook his head negatively. “Um, if you recall, not all the dragons are affected by the Dragon Root. For example, as a Boulder-class dragon, Meatlug is—”

“Actually, you got two problems,” a voice cut the Gronckle rider off. As one, the group of Dragon Riders turned to the forge’s opening to see Terrorthi standing near the opening.

“And what is that?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider snapped to keep himself from hissing in pain as Fawn sprinkled some kind of dust onto the bleeding bite marks.

“The Screaming Death is a subspecies of the Whispering Death,” the little girl spoke again, grimacing when she caught sight of Snotlout’s arm.

“So?” Ruffnut huffed, folding her arms over her mostly flat chest.

“So, they’re Boulder-class dragons too,” Terrorthi answered, causing the Dragon Riders to pale at the implications.

“But…but…but,” Fishlegs stuttered out helplessly, “how are we going to lure the Screaming Death to Outcast Island without the Dragon Root?”

“Algaenite,” Terrorthi chirped happily.

“Algae what now?” Tuffnut asked, scratching his head.

“These,” the girl spoke up, riffling through her pockets to produce a few greenish-brown stones. “They’re mineral deposits that form in Flightmare Pond. Jackson found out that Neðan loves them. Maybe if we collect enough of them, we can use it to lure the Screaming Death to Outcast Island.”

“The question is can we collect enough of this Algaenite in time?” Astrid pondered out loud, tapping her finger against her chin while looking at the floor.

“We’ll help!” Snuffnut volunteered as he and Gustav peered around either side of the door, having been hiding there the entire time.

Chapter 46: Cast Out all Hope

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Jack feverishly worked to free his restrained hands tied high above his head. However, as a result of the position he was bound in, his arms were strained to the point it made it nearly impossible for him to break free. His struggles only caused the rope to dig further through his lone arm warmer and into his skin while his other wrist was already raw due to his missing arm bracer. Amber eyes could already see a bruise in the shape of a handprint blossoming around his wrist and he wouldn’t be surprised if he started bleeding. Maybe then he could use the red liquid to slide his hands through the bindings; at the very least, it would hide the bruising.

If he could only get enough leverage, Jack knew he could free himself. As it was, he was standing on the tip of his toes barely able to find purchase and keep himself from swaying. What’s more, the brunet was tied in the middle of what appeared to be a chamber of a cave. Everything of use was far out of his reach which was a pity because the chamber was filled with useful stuff. A bed was positioned behind him pointing towards the tunnel entrance and there was a desk to his side with all sorts of sharp objects scattered across both surfaces. On his other side was a rough drawing of what he assumed was supposed to be Toothless impaled by axes and knives.

“Ah! You’re finally awake!” a voice which had unpleasant shivers running up his spine exclaimed in delight.

Brown locks fell into amber eyes as his head snapped away from the ropes and towards the tunnel he’d spent who knows how long trying to peer through the darkness. Instead of darkness—which had him reminiscing of the unpleasant time in Pitch’s lair—amber eyes found a silhouette walking towards him. He couldn’t make out the person, not right away. But the footsteps were heavy and unsettling, getting louder with each stomp until Dagur was revealed in all his deranged glory.

“Considering the company, I would rather not be,” Jack spat back, eyes narrowing as the Viking set something down by the tunnel’s entrance and began to circle him. The brunet strained to keep him in sight, but it was rather difficult with his current position.

“Defiant, I like that,” Dagur laughed from behind him and the eternal teen fought not to shudder from the breath on the back of his neck. “I’ll like breaking you of that habit even more.”

“A crueler man than you has tried,” the brunet growled, tugging at his bindings harder as he thought of Pitch. The King of Nightmare’s couldn’t keep him down and this deranged Viking wannabe wouldn’t be able to either. “And he failed. What makes you think you’ll succeed?”

“Come now, Druid,” the Berserker chief spoke softly, yanking Jack’s chin upwards to force him to look into harsh beady green eyes filled with hatred, “who are you to deny me?”

Dagur brought his mouth down, intending to capture the brunet’s lips in a harsh, bruising kiss. However, the eternal teenager would have none of that and struck out, slamming his head against the Viking’s nose. The redhead stumbled back, but Jack wasn’t done with him yet. He swung his legs up and wrapped them around Dagur’s neck, forcing the Viking closer to him. Using him as leverage, the brunet hoisted himself up and squeezed his legs together around the Berserker’s neck.

The young chief fought, clawing at Jack’s legs to break free. His fingers couldn’t find purchase and spots began forming in his vision. In a last-ditch effort, Dagur succeeded in breaking the strangling grip by grabbing the brunet’s ankles and twisting. The slight give in the pressure around his neck provided him with enough room to slip out from under the Druid’s hold.

His helmet, lost in the struggle, noisily clattered to the ground. The sound did little to hide the Viking’s harsh gasps, desperately sucking in much-needed air. Now free to glare at the brunet swinging back and forth from his lost purchase, Dagur cursed him out.

Jack glared back and made sure his voice was clear with no room for misunderstanding. “My name, Dagur, is Jackson Overland. It would be wise of you to remember it.” Jackson followed up his threat with a sly grin, showing how unafraid of the deranged Viking he was.

Dagur backhanded him for his trouble, making the brunet spin from the force. Only to stop when the Berserker grabbed him by the neck and forced Jackson to look him in the eyes once more.

“As I told the dragon, you'll learn to respect me, Druid… Or will face death by my hands,” the deranged Viking hissed.

Jackson’s grin just widened. “Death does not frighten me, Viking. It is you who should fear what is to come at the time of your demise.”

Dagur growled angrily, striking the brunet once more before storming out of the cavern chamber, swiping his helmet off the floor as he went. Jackson hung there limply for a moment, waiting for the world—or was it him?—to stop spinning before looking up. He could feel the blood flowing down his chin from his lip but that didn’t stop him from smiling widely.

For there, in his hand was one of the spikes from Dagur’s helmet. Using the pointed end, Jackson dug the spike into the bindings and worked it back and forth, sawing the rope in two. The brunet fell to the ground, not in any condition to land on his feet and it took him a moment to regain his bearings before pushing himself up.

The teenager had every intention of leaving this place as soon as possible; however, a glint of blue had his eyes darting over to the desk where his missing arm bracer rested innocently on top. A sneer made its way across his face as he stalked over to retrieve the missing armor, vowing if the gift was broken he would take it out on Dagur. Thankfully—for his peace of mind—the bracer was undamaged and he quickly affixed it to his arm, wincing as it rubbed against raw, bruised skin. Once he was finished fastening the straps around his arm, amber eyes were drawn to the object Dagur left by the entrance in his haste to retreat.

“Hiccup,” Jackson smiled as he reached down to rescue the Gronckle Iron shield with Toothless’s silhouette painted on the surface. “Looks like I’ll have help escaping this time around.”


Hiccup discreetly struggled with his wrists tied in front of him, trying to keep the Berserker guards surrounding him from noticing. He abstained from any additional attempts to escape when one of them forced him to watch Savage savagely muzzle Toothless with a crude metal muzzle. He briefly wondered where Dagur went after the deranged man had taken his shield.

There was no time to dwell on his missing weapon. Not when four more guards escorted his bound father into the Dragon Killing arena. The teenager was struck with a momentary flare of relief at the sight of his father alive and unharmed.  A feeling which didn’t last when Stoick caught sight of him tied up in between two Berserkers and frowned disapprovingly.

Neither spoke while the guards surrounding the Chief of Berk shoved him forward to stand beside his son while they surrounded the two Haddocks. Neither side spoke as Dagur came storming back into the arena, a dark cloud over his head that frightened his people more than it did either of his captives. Upon catching sight of Toothless muzzled, the deranged Viking seemed to perk up, giggling maniacally which had the guards further on edge.

With Dagur circling the Night Fury’s cage, taunting the dragon, and their guards more attuned to their chief than to their prisoners, the two Hairy Hooligan Tribe members deemed it safe to talk. 

“Are the other Dragon Riders here, son?” Stoick quietly conversed—because it definitely couldn’t be described as whispering—with his son.

“Well… not exactly,” Hiccup replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the deranged chief. Something looked different about him, but the auburn-haired Viking couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Oh, the Berk fleet,” the chief hummed, having no clue at all what his son had in store.

“No,” the Dragon Rider responded automatically, still focused on the demented Viking circling around Toothless. The redhead Berserker still wore all his clothing from his boots up to his helmet, yet something nagged at Hiccup as being out of place.

“Do you have any plan at all?” Stoick asked, turning ever so slightly to glance down at him.

Giving up on finding out what had changed about Dagur, Hiccup turned his head to face his father, uncaring the motion gave away their conversation. “I do, actually.”

“Oh, good, good,” the massive man deadpanned, expecting an explanation, and when he received none, probed on. “Would you like to fill me in?”

“Uh, no,” the teen hummed and hawed, knowing the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe wasn’t going to like his plan. Moreover, his father would like the plan even less when he would undoubtedly find out Hiccup had gotten himself and Toothless captured on purpose as a part of said plan. “I'd just like to watch it unfold; if it's all the same to you.”

Gesturing towards the pacing deranged Viking, Hiccup signaled him to watch.

“—I have big plans for you, Mr. Night Fury,” Dagur carried on taunting Toothless. “You'll be the new symbol of the Berserkers. Every corner of the archipelago will know and fear you.” The young redhead never noticed when the ground opened up behind the guard standing closest to Hiccup, swallowing the Berserker up while the guard’s chief continued rambling to himself, none the wiser. “Of course, we'll need to change all the sails and shields, and I'll need a new belt buckle. What's that gonna cost? Well, we'll worry about that after we've burned Berk to the ground.”

In the time it took Dagur to walk to the other side of the arena and head back, three more guards were swallowed by the ground. Still, the deranged Viking didn’t take notice. Hiccup turned and gave his father a lopsided grin when all the guards around them were gone.

“Hey!” Dagur turned around abruptly and the Night Fury rider froze, fearing the plan would be ruined. “How about ‘Deathkiller’?” he asked Toothless as the two guards who were in his line of vision just seconds previously fell through the ground while the redhead’s attention was elsewhere. “You like that name? Deathkiller? No? Oh, well. We'll keep brainstorming.

“I mean, there's gotta be ‘death’ in it, right? I mean…,” the Berserker chief trailed off as the earth rumbled and he finally turned around to find the majority of his men were missing.

The ground rumbled again as the few remaining Berserkers looked around, scared out of their minds before Whispering Deaths came bursting out from below. One of the Boulder-class dragons stopped to survey the group of humans, observing them all and taking a special interest in Hiccup before roaring and launching herself through the rusted iron dome. The frame held for all of a moment, groaning under the stress. It shattered into pieces as the cyclone of Whispering Deaths flew out to their much-coveted freedom.

Those who couldn’t fly were left to deal with the aftermath of a massive tunnel system dug underneath the Dragon Killing arena. The ground shifted and groaned while small cracks formed in the once-solid rock foundation. Cracks that quickly spread outwards, growing increasingly larger, creating a web of fissures. The ground Hiccup and Stoick stood on plummeted a few inches down and away from the rising piece of terrain Dagur stood on; their stomachs dropping with it. Their racing hearts slowed when the two Haddocks realized they were fine at the moment.

“Wha—? What's going on? What is this?” Dagur screamed, his head whipping around him as demented green eyes took in the surrounding chaos.

Another Whispering Death burst forth from the ground. Unlike the other Boulder-class dragons, this one had a few additions. The biggest of which was Alvin holding on to the tail of the dragon with one hand while his other was wrapped tightly around Mildew’s arm. When the dragon was clear of the crumbling earth, the former Outcast chief hurled the old Viking towards Toothless’s cage.

Alvin’s aim was perfect and Mildew slammed head-first into the iron bars, his helmet the only thing keeping him from being knocked unconscious. He needed a moment to pick the lock and thanks to the chaos surrounding him, he had plenty of time. Flinging the door open, the old dragon-hating Viking surged forward without any hesitation and grabbed ahold of the muzzle.

Mildew flung himself back and with him, he took the leather bindings preventing the Night Fury from attacking. Toothless’s fury filled roar echoed throughout the arena seconds later as pearly white teeth glistened dangerously in the light.

“Alvin, Mildew, and Whispering Deaths,” Stoick said drily before his voice rose to new heights. “This was your plan?!

“Did not see that coming, did you?” Hiccup grinned with great enthusiasm even as screams of pain and fear bombarded them from all sides.

Alvin chose that moment to drop to the ground by Hiccup as the Whispering Death carrying him flew by. He landed on his feet, only stumbling a bit, throwing out his hand to steady himself as the disintegrating foundation gave another shutter. Standing up, the dark-haired Viking worked feverishly to untie the ropes binding Hiccup. When his overly large hands got in the way, the Viking resorted to pulling out a jagged dagger to cut him free before moving on to Stoick’s bindings.

“Just like the good, old days, eh?” Alvin laughed giddily as Stoick worked the feeling back into his hands.

Suddenly, the Chief of Berk lashed out at the Outcast. His large fist struck flesh, knocking the Berserker coming up behind Alvin out cold. A grin formed on Stoick’s face. One which was returned and with twin nods, the two launched themselves into the chaos, dodging dragons and Berserkers alike. The few Outcasts in the arena quickly changed sides once more, throwing their allegiance back behind their chief and attacking the nearest Berserkers.

Hiccup didn’t even bother watching the massacre and sprinted across the rough terrain, leaping over the small fissures and ducking under two Berserkers after his head. He only had a moment of satisfaction when the two knocked each other out before he had to dodge another Viking’s weapon. He really wished had his shield right about now. A plasma blast took care of the attacking Viking as Toothless came to his rescue.

“Ya! Come on, Toothless!” Hiccup shouted over the riot.

The dragon ran towards his rider, blasting at those who got in his way and using his tail to knock others aside. Before he could reach Hiccup, the ground beneath the Night Fury gave away. Toothless’s frightened roar increased in volume as he and the Berserkers attacking him fell into the collapsing hole.

The Dragon Rider, no matter how much he wanted to follow after the dragon, jumped back and out of the way of the dome frame sinking into the arena. Massive rods of metal almost crushed him as they dropped from above. The Berserker behind him wasn’t as lucky. His arm was severed off before a piece of rusted iron went straight through his gut. Hiccup didn’t need to see the end result as the ground gave way beneath him to know the man was dead.

The auburn-haired Viking saved himself by leaping up to grab ahold of a piece of the dome frame dangling in front of him. The metal shifted and groaned, making sounds as if it too was going to break. Somehow, despite the frame jerking to a sudden halt and leaving him hanging above an open pit of darkness, Hiccup managed to keep his grip.

He frantically looked around for anything to save him, only to have his breath catch in his throat at the sight of his father in a similar situation, hanging by the edge of the pit. The ground beneath his feet was gone. Stoick didn’t pull himself up though but swung out to grab the back of Alvin’s scalemail armor even as the man knocked a Berserker off their small dissolving patch of rock and threw the Outcast over the ledge to safety. The Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe then repeated the process with a cowering Mildew who was backing away from the crumbling edge. Once the elderly traitor had been thrown to safety, only then did Stoick pull himself up.

“Okay, Night Fury. Come to daddy,” Dagur’s yell had Hiccup glancing down from where he was suspended in midair into the depths below.

The darkness was hard to penetrate, but vivid green eyes found that the deranged Viking also fell down into the pit and miraculously landed on a stable niche. What was more, Dagur was making his way across the available shelves, jumping over fissures and dodging out of the way of crumbling boulders as he headed straight towards a second niche where Toothless was trapped. A bright light of plasma built up in the Night Fury’s mouth, but there was no resulting blast and the light died down.

“Six-shot limit. Oh, great,” Hiccup muttered, only for it to turn into a yelp as the piece of iron he was holding trembled. The brief distraction cost him his view of the Berserker and when vivid green eyes found him again, Dagur had rounded up a few of his soldiers fortunate enough to survive the fall and was working to corner the dragon. “Toothless!”

The Night Fury fought them off the best he could, but too many of them had fallen—or in some cases jumped in—to the growing fissure and all of them were combining their efforts in subduing the flightless dragon. Hiccup contemplated letting go, trusting Toothless to do whatever it took to catch him. However, before he could release his grip on the metal, a bola came out of nowhere, catching two of the Berserkers and binding them together.

An arrow followed soon after but missed hitting anyone completely. Instead, the bolt embedded itself in the wall above the Night Fury. It was only when the line attached to the end of the arrow was pulled taunt that the rope became visible and a blue blur swung across the pit, landing beside Toothless.

Jackson used the shield attached to his arm to knock out the two remaining Berserkers before swinging himself up and into the Night Fury’s saddle. His foot was already in the process of shifting the mechanical tailfin even before he was completely in the saddle.

NO!” Dagur screamed, chasing after them but it was already too late.

Toothless was in the air, flying up and underneath Hiccup. This time, the Dragon Rider didn’t even hesitate and let go of the beam, falling right behind Jackson.

“So, since I found your shield, do I get to keep it?” was the first thing out of the brunet’s mouth.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want, just get us out of here!” Hiccup yelled as bolts flew past them too close for comfort.

“You got it,” the Druid said, shifting the tailfin and Toothless soared through one of the holes in the dome-frame moments before the structure completely came apart.

The collapse turned out to work in the Berserkers' favor as they used the iron frame as a ladder, climbing out and hurling even more weapons at the Night Fury. Toothless dodged, yet there were too many close calls and the flight was nowhere near as smooth and precise as his flying would have been if Hiccup were the one flying.

They were saved when a cloud of gas came from above and separated the Berserkers from them. A hissing sound followed as the gas ignited and a huge explosion rocked the area.

“Whoa, this is chaos on a level I've never seen before!” Ruffnut shouted in delight, as Barf and Belch flew to the rescue.

“I know,” Tuffnut shouted back in agreement. “I want to live here!”

“Forever!” the twins finished together.

“Boy, are we ever glad to see you guys,” Hiccup sighed in relief while Meatlug spewed lava rocks at some of the Berserkers off to his left, close enough for him to feel the heat and that was too close for comfort.

“Don't thank us yet. Things are about to get a lot crazier,” Fishlegs gulped as the Gronckle came up alongside Toothless. His grin faltered when he saw it was Jackson flying before it turned into the brightest smile when he realized the brunet was alive. “It’s good to see you’re alright Jackson.”

Jackson grinned back, grimacing when the action pulled at his split lip. “It’s good to see you too, Fishlegs.”

With Meatlug providing the firepower, the Druid followed them to land next to Stoick. Hiccup was the first to dismount and Jackson was untangling his foot from the stirrup only to freeze at the ear-piercing roar coming from the ocean. The four turned to find Stormfly carrying a net full of a greenish-brown goop approaching Outcast Island. Behind her, the Screaming Death followed and when Hiccup had told Jackson the dragon had grown even more since it was first hatched on Berk, he hadn’t been lying. If anything, it was a gross understatement.

“Why in the name of Odin did you bring that here?” Stoick shouted, waving his arms around as the Druid could do no more than stare at the gigantic dragon.

“This may be the only chance we have to get rid of it,” Hiccup half explained, half yelled. “I saw the Screaming Death's mother. It's been destroying those islands searching for her.”

“That thing has a mother?” the chief whispered, although it sounded more like a dawning realization than anything. Still, his son answered anyways.

“Yeah,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy pointed to a Whispering Death who was surrounded by the other, smaller Boulder-class dragons. While the cyclone of dragons appeared to be taking out as many Berserkers as possible, they were all surrounding the mother dragon, protecting her more from those who tried to attack than actually fighting.

Another roar had the mother Whispering Death looking out to sea and the members of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe knew the precise moment she spotted the Screaming Death. A much weaker roar from the tiny dragon—in comparison to the monstrous Titan before them—held a sort of longing sound to it. There was no doubt the mother had recognized the Titan Wing Boulder-class dragon as one of her brood and a third roar from the Screaming Death alerted them to the fact he too recognized the Whispering Death as its mother.

“They've seen each other,” Fishlegs whispered out, not knowing how this would play out, eager and nervous all the same.

“All we have to do now is get them together and get clear of this place,” Hiccup took a step forward to climb back into the saddle.

“Then what?” Jackson asked after scooting back to make room for the auburn-haired Viking.

“I'm hoping it does exactly what I think it should,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy answered cryptically.

“And what would that be?” the brunet asked, casually deflecting a bola with the shield still attached to his arm.

“Something good?” the Night Fury rider more asked than answered, all of them wincing as the deafening roars grew louder. Meaning the Screaming Death was closer, a lot closer. They could now see Astrid’s silhouette on Stormfly’s back, meaning she could definitely hear them if they were to yell which Hiccup monopolized on. “Now, Astrid, now!”

“Thank Odin,” the shieldmaiden sighed in relief, releasing the rope tied to the side of Stormfly’s saddle to allow the net full of rocks and dead algae to fall to the ocean below. “Algaenite away!”

The Screaming Death kept flying forward though, no longer interested in the Algaenite and headed straight for its mother. The massive white dragon’s red eyes softened upon reaching the Whispering Death and they no longer looked like they were glued in a perpetual glaring state but held a vagueness to them. Almost like the Screaming Death saw what was before him, but couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Oh, I see. It wants its mommy,” the cackled laughter had the Hairy Hooligan tribal members’ heads snapping down to see Dagur and his men had finally escaped the pit and in their distracted state, one of the Berserkers succeeded in lassoing the mother dragon. Together, the group of Berserkers pulled the Whispering Death matriarch down.

The Boulder-class dragon rounded on the men but didn’t get far as two more of Dagur’s men caught the Whispering Death with additional lassos followed by the Berserker chief himself. The mother dragon roared out in displeasure, attempting to fight them off, but with the four men holding her down, she could do nothing but lash out with her tail, only for Dagur to trap the end under one of his boots.

“Dagur, no! You don't know what you're doing,” Hiccup shouted as Toothless glided down into the pit to land a good distance away from the Berserkers, but close enough to react if need be. “You let that Whispering Death go before you destroy us all!”

“Why would I do that? Hello, I'm Deranged!” the Berserker sarcastically snapped. Turning his head to glare at the auburn-haired Viking. His momentary lapse in concentration had him shifting his weight which gave the Whispering Death enough leeway to move about and she used it to her advantage. Yanking the spiked appendage out from underneath Dagur’s foot, the mother dragon used her newly won freedom to strike out at one of her other captors, knocking the man out. The Viking next to the unconscious man released his hold on the rope in favor of pinning the dragon’s tail down.

“Well, can't argue with logic like that,” Jackson muttered only loud enough for the teenager in front of him to hear.

Or so he thought up until the point Belch’s head lowered down so it was almost right next to Toothless, his rider hanging upside-down from the Hideous Zippleback’s neck from his crossed legs. Ruffnut happened to be the saner of the twins at the moment and sat properly in her saddle as Barf lowered his head on the other side of the brunet.

“Right?” Tuffnut agreed, chuckling slightly

The Whispering Death, not able to get anywhere, let out a cry of distress. One which was answered with a roar of rage from the Screaming Death overhead, right before the large white dragon descended on them. Instead of the albino dragon heading straight for Dagur and the Berserkers holding its mother captive, the beast took out its rage on all humans at ground level first, unable to reach those in the pit.

One unlucky man was swallowed whole before being regurgitated into another Viking. Whereas Alvin was nearly impaled by the albino dragon’s spiked tail, narrowly escaping his fate when the massive dragon took notice of another Berserker off to its side and lashed out at him with its tail. The Outcast barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before he was dodging out of the way of boulder-sized debris the Screaming Death was kicking up in its mad dash to hurt, injure, and maim any living being that was not dragon-kind. The other Dragon Riders dived into the pit, landing on various niches to avoid being caught in the havoc going on above ground.

“Back off, Hiccup! You know if I destroy her, that thing will take us all out!” Dagur threatened, drawing his sword from his back and pointing it dangerously close to the bound Whispering Death.

“He's right. Everyone, back off,” the son of the chief commanded as the dragons all took a step back.

“Wise choice,” the deranged Viking chuckled arrogantly. His sword inching even closer to the Whispering Death despite their show of good faith, which did not surprise any of them; they were dealing with Dagur the Deranged after all. “Now, I might be interested in a trade.”

Jackson’s grip on Hiccup tightened ever so slightly, not letting up in the slightest at the demented Viking’s words. The auburn-haired teen thought he hid his surprise well from the brunet’s uncharacteristic show of fear, but his facial features must have betrayed him.

“Oh, come on, really? You couldn't see this coming?” Dagur asked exasperatedly. His hand, unoccupied by the weapon, tightened around the fraying rope holding the struggling Whispering Death down.

A battle cry from above had all of them looking up. “Never retreat! Never surrender!”

“Snotlout!” the Head of the Dragon Academy shouted, reaching out his hand as if that action alone could stop the Monstrous Nightmare and his rider where they were.

“Go for it!” Jackson yelled gleefully in the same instance that Hookfang ignited into flames.

In an unusual move, the Stoker-class dragon started to fly in a tight circle while simultaneously breathing out a large lungful of flames, creating a spiraling mass of fire, steadily growing bigger and bigger with each revolution. On Hookfang’s third rotation, the dragon suddenly came to a halt on the other side of the fireball while continuing to expel his flames. In conjunction with a Wind Blast from his wings, Hookfang hurled the flaming ball straight at Dagur.

“Oh!” was all any of the Berserkers could get out before the sphere hit them directly and all of the Berserkers were engulfed in flames.

The ropes holding the Whispering Death were incinerated due to the intense heat. The dragon’s scales provided the mother dragon some protection from the flames, unlike the humans burning around her. She could have been seriously injured, if she’d stayed engulfed in the flames, but the matriarch of the Whispering Deaths wasted not even a millisecond in escaping once her bindings were gone.

A loud roar from the mother dragon was answered by various Whispering Deaths surrounding the pit and echoed by the Screaming Death above. It was interesting to note, that the giant white dragon ceased its rampage upon hearing the matriarch’s roar and flew harmlessly over the pit, waiting for its mother like a petulant child.

Letting out another roar, this one much softer and less enraged, the Whispering Death flew over towards Toothless. A nudge from behind him had Hiccup standing up in the stirrups to reach out a hand. In turn, the Boulder-class dragon butted her head against the offered appendage. A soft gentle growl let him know she was grateful for his efforts before she pulled back. She then flew a little bit higher and flicked her tail around the Dragon Rider and across dark brown locks, ruffling Jackson’s hair. The Druid laughed and dug into his pouch, retrieving a small piece of Algaenite.

Offering it to the Boulder-class dragon, the Whispering Death gently took it from his hand and swallowed the petrified algae whole. A screech had both Jackson and Hiccup looking to see another Whispering Death to their right, followed by another screech to their left where another Whispering Death was. Toothless growled and took a step back as more and more of the Boulder-class dragons surrounded them.

“Sorry, just had the one,” the brunet shrugged his shoulders, showing them his empty hands. The Whispering Deaths all gave out displeased rumbles but one sharp, low hiss from the matriarch had them backing away without any further grumbles. Together, the cyclone of dragons flew out of the pit and the Dragon Riders followed; all of them wanting to get as far away from Dagur as they could.

Once above ground, the dragons from Berk landed and together they watched as the cyclone of Whispering Deaths flew out to meet the Screaming Death. A gentle snarl, one which didn’t sound right coming from such a massive dragon, vibrated out of the Titan Wing dragon’s mouth as it looked longingly at its mother it had been searching so long for. The mother dragon gave an answering screech and flew over to the white dragon, nuzzling her head against the massive jaw of the Screaming Death.

As one, they turned to look at the Dragon Riders. Without warning, the Screaming Death lunged forward, stopping way too close to Toothless for Hiccup’s comfort. The Night Fury didn’t flinch, not even as the massive dragon opened its mouth and let out a mighty roar, right in their faces. Jackson had to hang on, burying his head into the brown fur vest in front of him to avoid getting saliva on him. The auburn-haired teen wasn’t so lucky.

When the roar finally ceased and none of them felt like they were going to fall off by the sheer force, the Screaming Death fixed its red eyes on the three of them. A hard look crossed its face as it appeared to search their very souls, looking for something. Whatever the massive dragon was looking for, it seemed to find; because with a single nod of its head, the Screaming Death turned and flew off.

“Uh, you're welcome?” Hiccup offered as the massive white dragon rejoined the rest of the cyclone of Whispering Deaths. Toothless let out a content growl of his own, which had Jackson bursting into a fit of laughter for reasons unknown. The auburn-haired teen didn’t even bother to figure out why the Druid was laughing and leaned over, rubbing the Night Fury’s head.

Their view of the Boulder-class dragons flying off was cut off when Hookfang landed right in front of Toothless, Snotlout already spewing out excuses regarding his earlier actions. “Okay, I know I wasn't following orders, Hiccup, but I… Well, um—”

“Snotlout, you did the right thing,” Hiccup finished for him. Yeah, so his cousin hadn’t followed orders—again—and while what he had done was dangerous, if not suicidal, Snotlout had saved them all. If Dagur had killed the matriarch of the Whispering Death cyclone, the Head of the Academy didn’t doubt the Screaming Death would have killed them all in revenge. His own choice to play it on the safe side nearly cost them their victory but the Monstrous Nightmare rider prevented it because he saw an opening Hiccup hadn’t and took the risk.

“Yeah, I did, but…” the broad-shouldered Viking continued to rant, his cousin’s words not sinking in right away. “Wait, what? Are you messing with me? I was reckless!”  Snotlout accused, pointing his finger at Hiccup.

“Sometimes reckless can be courageous,” Jackson remarked.

“And you realized you were reckless,” the Head of the Dragon Academy nodded in agreement, which was a real improvement for Snotlout. It meant he was paying attention to Hiccup and was learning. The brunet Viking knew what he was doing was reckless but did it anyways and while that wasn’t the ideal thing to do in all situations, it was an improvement. There was hope for him yet. “Your suspension is well… suspended.”

Hiccup nudged Toothless to get him to move closer to Hookfang and offered his arm out to his cousin. The brunet Viking looked at him suspiciously before clasping their arms together.

“Welcome back to the Academy, cousin,” the chief’s son acknowledged their relationship out loud for the first time in years.

“You know I’m not going to listen to you still, right fishbones?” Snotlout grinned back, but neither of them let the other’s arm go.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hiccup replied before a scream had the two releasing each other and all the Dragon Riders turning towards the source. Their dragons were tense, ready to attack because that was no ordinary scream, that was a war cry.

They saw Dagur hurtling towards them, sword raised but before he could get into striking distance, he slammed into a fist and knocked himself out. Alvin came out from behind the rock, rubbing his right wrist and walking to stand over the top of the dazed deranged Viking.

“Hello, Dagur,” he said, with a huge maniacal smile befitting the Chief of the Berserkers on the Chief of the Outcasts' face. One that promised payback for everything Dagur had put him through. “Remember me?”

“Oh, no,” the deranged Viking squeaked out. He tried to get up and run, but the Outcast Viking had already grabbed ahold of the redhead and held him at arm’s length to keep the teen’s frantic kicks from connecting. When he realized he wouldn’t be able to break free, Dagur turned his head to face the group of Dragon Riders pleadingly. “No! Hiccup! Brother? Druid—er…? Help, please! I was just kidding, everything was just a joke. Haha. It was—”

“Take him away,” Hiccup's glare at the Berserker hardened when he felt Jackson tense up behind him.

“Gladly,” Alvin said, heading towards the caverns that housed his prison.

Notes:

…so, who really wants to kill Dagur now?

*Offers Dagur up*

Please him and not me.

Chapter 47: Cast Aside Our Difference

Notes:

I have a love-hate relationship with this chapter. I'm trying to wrap everything up but it just doesn't seem to be coming out right and I keep having to rewrite everything. Still, I've put off posting this trying to get it right and I'm still not completely happy with it but since it's done better than the last few drafts I'm posting it.

Mihas: How did I not foreshadow Dagur's interest in Jack? The first time he meets him, he asked to buy him from Hiccup and he wants Jack as a spoil of war. I thought I foreshadowed and implied things pretty well. But you are correct in the fact that this will make Hiccup and Jack finally talk. So, go read and see how things turn out for them. :)

Chapter Text

Hiccup watched from Toothless’s back as the Berserkers were led down into the pits, using the area as a massive holding cell for the invaders until they could decide what to do with them. Dagur was currently held in the pen that once housed the matriarch Whispering Death and the rest of her clutch but had since been abandoned, the cyclone taking the eggs with them when they'd left.

Fishlegs and Meatlug were working as ground support, overseeing the prisoners being escorted down the makeshift ladder to the holding pit. He was hesitant at first, not sure of himself, but after a friendly reminder he too was armed with a weapon of his own—the Gronckle Iron sword strapped to Meatlug’s saddle—the heavyset Viking lost his uncertainties, for the most part. He didn’t look as intimidated as before and he even managed to disarm a few of the Vikings with hidden weapons. The Gronckle at his side gleefully ate the fallen weapons and spewed the melted remains dangerously close to the other prisoners’ feet as a warning to the rest of the Berserkers.

Snotlout was actively hunting down any of Dagur’s men who dared to flee before the end of the battle and had gone further inland. The Monstrous Nightmare duo would periodically swoop over the pit to drop another screaming Viking down into the abyss. His treatment of the Berserkers had a few of them surrendering before they were subjected to the same fate. Savage wasn’t one of them though and Snotlout took great personal pleasure in delivering the man to Alvin instead of dropping him into the pit. From the look of the former second-in-command of the Outcast Tribe, it was truly a worse fate.

Then there was Astrid who had decided being chased by the Screaming Death gave her the allowance to perch on a rock not far from Hiccup. She lounged back and helped oversee the prisoner transport and kept them in line when it suited her. The tall rock gave her the best vantage point to take on any of the brave fools who were stupid enough to try to escape. With one point of her finger, Stormfly would let out a barrage of spines to rain down, making a barrier between the escapee and their freedom. A few had tried; however, it only took the twins circling above one escaping Berserker, letting out a cloud of gas and igniting the flames to halt any further attempts much to Tuffnut’s and Ruffnut’s displeasure.

Personally, Hiccup thought the escape attempts stopped not because of the twins’ gleeful laughs as they created walls of flame to herd the men back towards the pit but more due to the fact the prisoner came out with half his face and the entirety of his left arm covered in burns. The Head of the Dragon Training Academy couldn’t quite condemn their actions, but neither could he praise them either. Their tactic worked well, not to mention showed they were not above maiming those who opposed them as Dagur had led his men to believe.

The Berserkers already witnessed the Hairy Hooligan Tribe backing down on a few occasions before. Not willing to kill if it wasn’t necessary. However, it made the people of Berk appear weak in their eyes, in Dagur’s eyes, and they didn’t expect any of the younger Dragon Riders to retaliate with such lethal force. After today, that notion would change. They’d shown the Berserkers why the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had been and still was a formidable tribe and one not to be messed with.

Thankfully, they were almost finished and all of them could go back to Berk soon, leaving Alvin to deal with his rebellious Outcasts and take care of the Berserker prisoners until a decision could be reached between the two chiefs on what to do with Dagur and his fleet. The thought had him looking around for his father; the last he had seen of Stoick was when he had headed off to speak with Alvin. It took him a moment, but he spotted the two large Vikings standing off near the cliffs.

“Come on, Bud,” Hiccup murmured, the dragon seemingly reading his mind, and walked towards the men. However, the wind chose that moment to blow just right to catch their words and filter them in his direction, causing the Night Fury rider to pull Toothless up short to listen without either of them being the wiser to his eavesdropping.

“Who'd have thought it would've come to this? Eh, Stoick?” Alvin asked, his voice a bit rougher, more ragged from the strain he’d put on his vocal cords with all the war cries and screaming he’d done. The roughed-up Outcast chief turned away from the ocean and towards the equally roughed-up Chief of Berk.

“There's more than enough blame to go around, Alvin,” his father said, glancing over at his once friend. Stoick brought his hands behind his back in a gesture Hiccup was familiar with; it was the one he used when he had chiefing duties and needed to appear strong even if he didn’t feel that way. “But that's in the past, what you did today for me… for my son…”

Much to his surprise, the auburn-haired teenager watched as his father held out his hand and Alvin looked at it with such surprise that it looked like he could not believe his own eyes. However, it didn’t take the Outcast long to clasp hands with his former best friend and Hiccup felt that there was hope for both of their tribes.

“A life for a life,” Jackson said, coming to stand next to Toothless, startling the Viking on his back.

“Huh?” the auburn-haired teen hummed inelegantly, looking down at the Druid. His face was dirty and there was a trail of dried blood leading from his lip and down his chin. Most of his clothing was filthy and vivid green eyes caught a few dark splotches of color surrounding either of his wrists when the wind blew his cloak aside. However, those were the worst injuries he could see on the Druid. It was those that he didn’t see that worried him.

“Alvin, he’s made an oath to the Wyldfae before Snotlout and I let him out of the cell. For every life he has taken, he must protect and save another life in the place of the ones he denied the same right. From his actions today, he has begun to do just that,” the Druid whispered softly, amber eyes looking back at the two chiefs before turning to Hiccup with a smile. “You’d be proud; it was Snotlout who decided on what the oath should be.”

“I am,” the Head of the Dragon Training Academy confided to his friend. “I just don’t want it going to his head.”

“Don’t we all. It’s big enough as it is,” Jackson chuckled before letting out a yawn. It had been a long day after all.

Hiccup caught the action, even as the brunet tried to stifle the motion and just shook his head. “Come on, let’s get the others and go home.”

Jackson didn’t argue with him and—for the first time in his association with the brunet—the Druid took the offered hand, using it to steady himself as he climbed onto Toothless’s back. “Let’s.”


Commander Huffnut growled as she stalked through the village, the two little balls of light following her buzzing just as agitatedly as she was. Nyx—the fae who was supposed to be with Astrid—had informed her and Fury—her own little dark-skinned, curly brown hair, and dark-eyed fae wearing the same uniform as Nyx—of the stupidity of her acting chief and his Dragon Riders. They had gone on to Outcast Island without her or anyone else and they had even left behind their Wyldfae guardians.

She didn't actually know how much help the Wyldfae would have been; however, they would never know now that the teenagers had gone off on their own without any of the fae. The members of the Academy had been lucky up until this point, but none of them were prepared for a full-scale war. They should have waited for her. As the Commander of the Berk Guard, she was prepared for war, her troops—the men and women currently standing ready in the village square—were prepared for war, but the Dragon Riders were not ready going by the things she’d observed of the small group.

"Puffnut!" the Commander barked for her sister—the Captain of the Reserve Guards—who stepped out from underneath Skully’s bony wing and walked towards her sister. "Have the preparations been made?"

"Yes," Puffnut nodded briskly. "The reserve men—" a shieldmaiden from the crowd growled "—and women are ready to go march along with the rest of the Guard. Typhan and Firefang have volunteered to stay back and guard the village while we're gone with the children's dragons' help. Gruffnut and Piglegs are gathering those who are staying behind and taking them to the Great Hall."

"Good." Huffnut nodded, turning towards the assembled armada. "Troops!"

"Sir!" they snapped off a response simultaneously.

"We have prepared for war with the tribes of the archipelago and have been lucky enough to never have to face the enemy across the battlefield for years. However, the time of peace has passed, now we must fight to defend our lands, our home, our chief! Some of you will have the honor of joining the feast in the Halls of Valhalla, but that won't deter us, will it?" the Commander asked of her troops. They cheered in response. "To the longboats!"

"Ai!" the Vikings marched towards the cliffs, intending to follow the gangplanks down to the docks. However, when the Vikings in the lead stopped just as suddenly as they began, those behind them were forced to halt as well.

"What's the holdup?!" the Commander shouted as she pushed her way to the forefront. Nyx and her guard of fae flew above the Hooligans’ heads and made their way to the front of the armada at a much faster pace. They too stopped short just as Huffnut did when she caught sight of the flock of dragons flying towards them and froze in shock.

The troops backed off and cleared a space for the massive beasts to land. The first to touch down was Hookfang, the Monstrous Nightmare all but lying down to allow the riders on his back to step off in a dignified fashion. The uncharacteristic behavior was due to Stoick being the one riding Hookfang along with Snotlout behind him. Once on the ground, their chief turned to face the gathered warriors.

"There is no need for war," Stoick addressed them as the other dragons landed around him. "Neither Dagur nor the Screaming Death are an issue any longer. We have seen the last of them for a long time. A very long time."

There was silence before the whole crowd erupted in cheers and screams of exhilaration. The noise had those still inside their huts peeking out and when they saw the dragons towering over the gathered troops, they tentatively walked out. Upon catching a glimpse of their chief, safe and sound, they too joined in the joy and hailed his return. A few of the gathered Dewdrop Faeries even flew over and greeted the chief, startling Stoick. He looked around and raised an eyebrow at the countless number of Wyldfae out in the open and actively interacting with the villagers as if it was a common occurrence.

Periwinkle immediately flew over to check on Jackson when he dismounted Toothless and many of the Wyldfae followed her example when they too caught sight of the Druid. They swarmed him, creating a slight breeze that had his clothing swaying while the true wind ruffled his hair. Chimes and rings easily heard over the roaring of the Vikings assaulted his ears when they saw the extent of his injuries but he brushed aside their worry. After being pacified, the little faeries who’d assigned themselves to the various Dragon Riders broke off to check over their chosen wards and ended up resting on shoulders when they found all in relatively good health.

The happiness soon turned into a celebration. After the last year of stressful situations with Dagur, the Outcasts, and the Screaming Death, to hear all their problems had been solved in one day, and their chief was returned safe and sound was the perfect excuse for such an event. Food was brought out of the Great Hall and the center of the village was cleared, making room for the people and fae alike to dance. Tables and chairs were brought out from huts and mead was flowing by the barrel. Music filled the air as the celebration gained momentum and it was hard-pressed to find someone not enjoying themselves.

Jackson didn’t get a chance to join in, not that he got that much of an opportunity to try as Terrrorthi pulled him towards her home to have her mother or father look at him seeing as Gothi was already busy. The elderly woman discreetly began treating the wounds the chief received the moment his speech was over. Afterwards, the healer moved on to Hiccup and the other Dragon Riders.

Once Gothi was done with the auburn-haired teen, the Head of the Dragon Academy was pulled aside by Commander Huffnut. The shieldmaiden politely discussed with him why she should have been informed of the change of plans. In Hiccup’s opinion, that had been more terrifying than facing all those Berserkers and the Screaming Death combined.

When the chief’s son was released by the commander, he was abruptly pulled towards the celebrating crowd and forced to dance with a number of different people, both young and old. He felt very exposed as the girls his age—and those older—expressed their gratitude for his heroic deeds and tried to give him a kiss. Some even offered to go a bit further—inviting him to their huts—if he desired. Each time, he was saved from answering as another girl would pull him away which he was eternally grateful for up until they too tried to kiss him. Another yank had him being pulled out of a twenty summers old woman who was determined to drag him to her hut despite his stuttering protests and sinking his feet into the ground.

“Oh, thank Odin,” Hiccup sighed when he was faced with his newest savior, and better yet, it turned out to be Astrid. “You’re a gods sent.”

Astrid chuckled and shook her head. “More of a Bucket sent, he abandoned me to dance with Phelgma.”

The auburn-haired teen looked over to see the bucket-wearing Viking had indeed taken to swinging the lovely dark-haired shieldmaiden around the dancefloor. Her prior partner—Mulch—didn’t look too happy at being kicked to the curb, but Phelgma was laughing and enjoying herself immensely. A few of the other Vikings had even stopped to watch the intricate dance led by Bucket. Clapping and hollering could be heard as the blond Viking led the woman around, dipping and turning her every few steps.

“I didn’t know Bucket could dance that well,” the auburn-haired teenager remarked as he spun Astrid around to keep the dancing couple in sight. However, due to his distracted state, he ended up bumping into the person at his back. Glancing behind him, he found he had bumped into Snuffnut who was dancing in a circle with Terrorthi and Jackson.

“Sorry,” the child said which Hiccup acknowledged but his eyes were focused on the Druid. His usual cloak was nowhere to be seen along with his arm bracer and arm warmer to keep them from rubbing off the salves which decorated his arms and was plastered thickly around his wrists barely hiding the dark bruises. Jackson’s lip was still raw and swollen, but the blood had been washed away along with the grime and the dirt from his face. He still had Hiccup’s shield, but it was strapped to his back with the leather band the Druid made for the shield all those months ago.

“How are you feeling Jackson?” Astrid asked, letting go of her dancing partner to turn to face the Druid as the two children broke hands with him and took a step to his side.

“Not much of anything. Myror forced some weird elixir down my throat and told me not to go to sleep until after sunset,” Jackson made a face as he remembered having to gulp down the foul-tasting elixir. “Terrorthi and Snuffnut have volunteered to keep me awake until then.”

“Uh-huh. Dancing is fun and no one falls asleep while they dance,” Snuffnut nodded his head, blue eyes looking up to make sure there was no sign of sleep on the brunet’s face.

“And it makes you hungry too. Dad said Jackson had to eat something too, but he hasn’t,” Terrorthi chimed in as Periwinkle jumped off the horn of her helmet and flew over to land on Hiccup’s shoulder. The little Dewdrop Faerie pulled discreetly at the Night Fury rider’s ear and then pointed to Jackson, specifically, his free hand which was trembling as it opened and closed, trying to grasp at something that wasn’t there.

The Dragon Rider opened his mouth to say something, but the noise died down and everyone was looking towards Finn Hofferson. The tall blond Viking had one arm wrapped around Gobber’s neck while the other one held his hook and he was kissing the daylights out of the man. Just as quickly as it had become quiet, the noise started up again as the twins began to hoot and holler followed by the rest of the village.

“What just happened?” Snuffnut asked, trying to stand on his tiptoes to see but neither he nor Terrorithi could see a thing above the tall Vikings surrounding them.

“I’m not sure,” Jackson replied, tilting his head to the side. “Gobber gave Finn an axe and then Finn kissed him.”

“An axe?” Astrid all but squealed in delight, biting her bottom lip as she bounced up and down on her feet. The young shieldmaiden at Jackson’s side repeated the action while the other Dragon Rider Trainee tried not to look too interested but clearly wanted to see for himself as well. “I’m going to go get a look.”

“I wanna see too,” Terrorthi whined quietly while Snuffnut nodded in agreement before both of them looked towards the Druid guiltily.

“Go on, I’ll be fine by myself,” the brunet ushered the children after the already fleeing blonde Dragon Rider who was squeezing her way through the thicket of bodies and towards her uncle.

“And I’ll make sure he gets something to eat,” Hiccup chimed in; hoping the heat in his cheeks wasn’t noticeable to anyone but himself.

The little girl eyed him as seriously as someone her age could, which wasn’t effective at all but it looked cute. “And he doesn’t sleep?”

“And doesn’t sleep,” the Dragon Rider confirmed with a nod of his head.

“Okay,” Snuffnut agreed, already dragging the other Dragon Rider Trainee after Astrid.

“You know you don’t have to do that?” Jackson asked when the two children were out of hearing range.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” Hiccup replied as he took the brunet’s hand and led the two out of the crowd. He didn’t miss the way Jackson looked at him with wonder and—dare he say it?—a warm fondness to his eyes, which just sent the Dragon Rider’s heart racing. Together the two were able to make it out of the crowd, but not without one last look back at the celebration going on behind them.

Jackson’s curious gaze immediately landed on the group now gathered around Finn and Gobber as they took center stage to dance. They weren’t as graceful or even as stunning to watch as Bucket and Phelgma’s performance had been, but it was still something else. The blacksmith danced to the music significantly better than Finn, who was hobbling along, making it seem like he had the peg leg and not the other way around. It was the laughter and the smiles coming from the two Vikings that had everyone watching. All because Gobber gave Finn an axe.

“I don’t get it,” the brunet finally broke his silence, his curiosity grabbing at frayed ends even as he tried to figure out why the axe held such significance.

“Get what?” Hiccup asked as the Druid turned his head forward. The auburn-haired teen didn’t let go of Jackson’s hand as he pulled them in another direction. The brunet didn’t seem to notice too wrapped up in his thoughts and allowed the Dragon Rider to lead him along.

“Why is everyone so worked up over an axe?” Jackson asked, halfway realizing they’d left the celebration and were headed back into the village.

Hiccup almost stopped but ended up stumbling over his metal prosthesis before regaining his footing. The heat that had faded away came back full force and if it weren’t for the fact Jackson wasn’t facing him, the Viking knew the brunet would have commented on the blush staining his cheeks.

“Ahhh, it’s… uhmmm… it’s not the axe itself,” the teenager stuttered using his free hand to rub the back of his neck and accidentally hit Periwinkle. The little fae gave out an angry chime and after another tug of his ear, she flew off, heading back towards the festivities. “It’s more that the axe is a gift of intent. It’s a tradition of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe to give a weapon—usually something very ornate with the House Crest of the intended on it—to show you’re interested.  If the other party doesn’t refuse the gift, then that means they are interested as well.”

“Kinda like a courting gift, but before the courting?” the Druid questioned, amber eyes looking at Hiccup unwavering which had the older teen gulping down his heart that suddenly jumped into his throat. He was saved when Jackson looked away on his own accord with a thoughtful expression. “Hey! Does that mean Astrid got them together without our help?”

“Actually, it wasn’t even Astrid’s doing but the Eel Pox’s fever,” the chief’s son explained as he opened the door to his hut. “Gobber apparently kissed Finn in his delirious state.”

“Really?” Jackson asked in surprise as he walked into the hut, finally letting go of Hiccup’s hand to head straight for the kitchen area. He began looking through the woven baskets' stores of food and ended up pulling out some preserved mutton from one of them along with some parsnips, onions, and the dried fava beans Stoick favored. “Did I do anything crazy in my delirious state?"

“Other than predicting a massive out-of-season snowstorm, you mostly mumbled in your foreign tongue,” Hiccup said as he tended to the hearth, putting a few more logs on the fire. He then took the pot of dried fava beans filled with water Jackson finished preparing and put it over the fire.

The Druid stopped chopping the onions—wiping the tears from his eyes—to look up. “I predicted a snowstorm?”

“Yeah, ya did,” the auburn-haired teen confirmed as Jackson finished cutting up the rest of the onions and parsnips. He then put the chopped onions and parsnips into a mortar and added a few herbs and spices before grounding the mixture together with the pedestal and putting the resulting paste on the mutton.

“Huh, I didn’t know that. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?” the brunet pouted, putting the meat into a pot with a little water in the bottom and placing the lid on top. He walked over to the fire and nestled the pot into the coals very carefully.

“We thought you already knew,” Hiccup shrugged, watching as Jackson’s fingers started to twitch again now he had nothing to occupy them with.

“Nope, didn’t know. It’s news to me,” the Druid shrugged as he began rummaging around for some clean bowls and utensils. When he couldn’t find any, Jackson went around plucking up all the dirty dishes and began to wash them.

“Well if it helps, it was because of your prediction we were properly prepared for the out-of-season snowstorm,” the Dragon Rider offered to console the younger teen.

A thump coming from the roof had Hiccup glancing at the stairs—already knowing it was Toothless jumping onto the hut and climbing through the large window up in his room—but the sound had the brunet dropping the knife he was cleaning and whirling around, grabbing at nothing. When he only saw the Viking staring at him, Jackson slumped back. His fingers trembling as he wrapped them around his arms in an attempt to hide the tremors. The action smeared some of the salve on his upper arms and wrists, making the trembles all that much more noticeable.

“Jackson, are you alright?” Hiccup asked, taking a step forward only to stop, thinking better of it.

“I—I’d feel better if I had my staff,” Jackson confided, hanging his head low. The Viking grimaced, thinking about the two halves of said staff currently resting up in his room. He had picked up the pieces in the aftermath of everything and stored them away for safekeeping. At one point, he used a strip of white cloth to join the two ends together but it wasn’t a fix at all and he knew it wouldn’t do much good.

“Wait right here,” the auburn-haired teenager ordered before heading upstairs, passing Toothless as he went up and looked around the room.

He found the staff where he’d left it on his workbench, the white cloth wrapped around the break keeping the pieces together. However, also wrapped around the staff were vines coming from the Night Fury Lily which he’d pinned up with his blueprints months previous and it had yet to wilt. It had never grown either so he was taken back to see the vines had crept down the wall and reached across the desk’s surface. Oddly enough, the vines were only wrapped around the staff over top of the cloth where it had been snapped in two.

Not thinking there would be any harm in it—which there wasn’t, thankfully—Hiccup reached out and grabbed ahold of the staff right below the vines. He was surprised when his hand landed on the gnarled piece of wood, the vines disintegrating into ash, glittering slightly before being swept away by the wind. Examining the staff, the inventor in him had his hands unwrapping the cloth. The crook wasn’t flimsy and likely to come apart as it had been when he had first messed with the two pieces, trying to fix what Dagur had broken. Hiccup could find no fault in it. It was almost like the staff had never been snapped, but to be on the safe side, he rewrapped the white cloth around the length of the wood and headed back downstairs.

There, Hiccup found Jackson sitting on the floor, petting Toothless who was emitting his purr-like growl, comforting the unusually skittish teenager. The Druid looked up and smiled when he saw him, his smile brightened upon locating his staff in the Dragon Rider’s hand. Jackson quickly scrambled to his feet and made it to the auburn-haired Viking’s side within a blink of his eyes, though Hiccup didn’t hand the gnarled piece of wood over right away.

“Ah, there’s something you should know, Jackson. Dagur snapped your staff,” the Dragon Rider explained, presenting the staff to show the white cloth wrapped around the middle of its length. “I tried my best to fix it, but it might not be as sturdy as it once was.”

Jackson took the crook with a smile, the trembling in his hands ceasing almost instantly when he held the piece of wood once more. “Don’t worry. It’s happened before. Thank you for fixing it.”

Hiccup opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to respond to that. He’d watched the brunet put the gnarled piece of wood through its paces. Witnessing Jackson put all his weight on the staff on more than one occasion, using it in various ways that put a tremendous amount of stress on the wood. Yet, during all of this, the staff had already been broken once before? How was it possible that it stood up to such abuse?

“Magic,” the Druid smiled, finishing twirling the staff around his fingers, and began checking the crystal and the dragon scale—which had miraculously stayed attached—for any damage.

“What?” the Dragon Rider was startled out of his thoughts, producing a laugh from the brunet.

“It was fixed by magic last time,” Jackson clarified, looking at the auburn-haired teen, which made the Viking realize he had been pondering out loud and hadn’t realized it. For a moment, he thought the Druid took notice of the blush spreading across his cheeks as a look crossed his slightly pale face before Jackson reached around and took the shield off of his back with one hand. His other hand refused to let go of his staff after not having it for so long as he handed the Gronckle Iron shield to Hiccup. “Here. I believe this is yours.”

“I thought you said finder’s keeper’s,” the teenager teased, taking his shield back as Jackson turned back to the food preparations, checking on the beans and adding them to the mutton.

“Nah, it’s yours. No matter how cool and useful it is. Besides, I have my staff back and without that, you don’t have anything save for Toothless,” the Druid commented airy, using his staff to pull a woven basket over and spilling the contents of fish. The Night Fury was immediately upon the fish, happily lapping up his dinner.

“I appreciate that,” Hiccup said as he put the shield to the side and placed the clean dishes on the table as Jackson pulled the pot off the fire. He dished out the food onto two plates while the Viking got them each a mug of water.

Sitting at the table the two fell into an animated conversation about the Whispering Death cyclone and the Screaming Death. Yet, the chief’s son noticed how Jackson skirted around the subject of what had happened to him on the island. When he did get them on the topic indirectly, the Druid subtly changed the topic once more and he hadn’t realized the subject changed until much later, and by the time Hiccup did realize the diversion tactic, they were finishing up their meal.

As they were cleaning the dishes together, the chief’s son finally built up the nerve to come straight out and ask. “What did Dagur do?”

Jackson set aside the bowl he was cleaning and grabbed ahold of the staff which had been propped up against his own body. The water had washed away some of the salve around his wrists causing the blackened bruises and raw skin to stand out even more. A blank look crossed his face as amber eyes looked down and slender hands tightened around the staff, turning his knuckles white.

Finally, in a small voice, the younger teen—who looked so much younger and smaller at the moment that it made the Viking’s heartbreak—answered the question. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What?” Hiccup whispered out just as softly, not knowing how to react. On one hand, he was scared for Jackson because of Dagur’s unhealthy infatuation with the brunet. On the other hand, he was enraged at Dagur for daring to kiss Berk’s Druid.

“He didn’t succeed, but I can’t stop reliving the moment over and over again in my head,” the younger teenager went on to explain, leaning back against the empty table. Toothless whined softly, butting his head against the brunet’s side, but he didn’t react. He just kept talking in the quiet voice that didn’t belong to the happy and energetic Jackson Hiccup had come to know. “He would have stolen my first kiss. I know that sounds stupid, but Dagur could have been my first kiss and that thought just disgusts me.”

“First kiss?” the Dragon Rider squeaked, thoughts spiraling out of control. Jackson was almost fifteen winters old and he had never been kissed? Even Hiccup had his first kiss when he was fourteen summers old and he was the ultimate hiccup.  

Before he could even realize what he was doing, Hiccup leaned up and kissed the flustered teen. It was simple, just a press of lips together, chastised and pure. However, it had the brunet frozen beneath him and the auburn-haired Viking pulled away blushing.

“There, now you had your first kiss and it wasn’t Dagur,” the chief’s son smiled sheepishly. Jackson did nothing more than open and close his mouth. For the first time since Hiccup had known the Druid, he was speechless.

Finally, Jackson found his voice. “I—I got to go.”

With that, the brunet fled from the hut leaving Hiccup disappointed in himself and at Jackson’s reaction. He thought the Druid wouldn’t have a problem with him since he didn’t have a problem with Finn and Gobber. It looked like while Jackson was okay with other people courting the same gender as themselves, he didn’t want to be one of those couples.

Sighing, Hiccup finished doing the dishes and headed to bed in disappointment. The sounds of celebration drifting into his hut made his already heavy heart throb brokenly with every beat of the rhythm.

The next morning, the teenage Dragon Rider woke up. It was a slow and sluggish process which he fought the whole way, wanting to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to deal with the world at all. Not right now at least, but he didn’t get his wish as vivid green eyes blinked open. The first thing he saw through sleep-filled eyes was a sheathed dagger resting innocently on his workbench.

Looking at it, he recognized it as Jackson’s one and only attempt at taking a stab at forging. It was rather simple in design with soft black leather used for the handle; the metal was of good quality and it had turned out rather well for the Druid’s first attempt. Nevertheless, Jackson refused to make anything else, citing his lack of training, and stuck to the leather work he knew and continued to create the bindings for whatever weapon Hiccup or Gobber handed him.

Sighing, vivid green eyes drifted away from the sheathed dagger in the black leather casing and grabbed his metal leg. He fiddled with attaching it before sitting back up, only to have the dagger drop in his lap.

“What the? Sharptshot?” Hiccup yelped, looking up to find the green Terrible Terror flying above him.

The little dragon gave out a chirp and circled one more time before landing on the back of his chair. He tilted his head to the side and chirruped again, looking pointedly at the dagger. It was then the Dragon Rider realized that the dagger shouldn’t have been in his room. It hadn’t been in his room last night when he went to bed. Another squawk from Sharpshot had Hiccup picking up the dagger by the sheath, only for it to slide out. He fumbled with the blade and ended up dropping it.

Plucking the dagger out of his lap, Hiccup intended to sheath it and return the blade back to Jackson since his Terrible Terror had apparently stolen it sometime during the night. Yet the movement caused the morning light to catch the metal at just the right angle to illuminate something near the hilt of the blade. Holding it up to examine the anomaly, vivid green eyes had to squint as he shifted the dagger again to reveal an iridescent patch.

It took him a moment, but the chief’s son was able to make out the small rounded horned skull with a set of three teeth on both the top and lower jaw. The very symbol on Toothless’s tailfin which could have been confused for a crest if one didn’t know any better. Moreover, Jackson didn’t know any better. It wasn’t ornate and the crest was discreet, but the intent was still there; a weapon with a crest on it.

He needed to go find Jackson.

“Hiccup!” his father called out.

After he dealt with his father.

“Coming,” Hiccup called back, hurrying to get dressed—though he did take an extra minute to attach the sheathed dagger to his belt carefully—before bounding downstairs with Toothless and Sharpshot on his heels.


Dealing with his father took longer than Hiccup imagined, seeing how the chief brought him along on his inspection of the village. They’d stopped to talk to a few people, gave their condolences to the families who lost loved ones to the Berserkers’ invasion and listened to the crucial problems that still needed to be addressed. They did what they could, but there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed right away. There were a few families whose huts were damaged but at least their huts survived, unlike the three huts closest to the battle.  A few other families had their entire stores for the winter destroyed, burned to the ground by the Berserkers, and it was only thanks to Hiccup’s new fire prevention system that the fires hadn’t spread further. Those were only a couple of things that needed time for arrangements to be made and Vikings weren’t known for their patience, hence those cases took extra long for Stoick and Hiccup to deal with.

Now, both father and son stood at the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Sharpshot occupying Hiccup’s shoulder while Nyx and Fury—having tagged along on the Haddocks’ journey around the village—occupied his father’s shoulders.

“You know, son, you're gonna be a great chief someday. One of the best, I'd wager,” Stoick said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them when the two finished discussing possible solutions to the food shortage with Binn and a few other hunters.

Hiccup felt blindsided by the compliment but that didn’t keep his sarcasm from surfacing as he nervously chuckled. “Yeah. If the last few days are any indication of what it's like to be chief, I'd just as soon leave that to you.”

It was the gods’ honest truth too. The Head of the Dragon Training Academy didn’t think he’d ever be ready to take on the role of chief. His father was the best chief the Hairy Hooligan Tribe had ever known and he would have extra-large boots to fill when it was time for Stoick to step down. Hiccup didn’t think he could do it. Being chief scared him more than anything else because he wasn’t ready. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

“Being chief is hard, but it is easier if you have someone by your side,” Stoick went on. “Your mother was that someone for me. Astrid could be that someone for you.”

Hiccup made a noncommittal sound and shrugged his shoulders.

“Or Jackson, If you were to give him a chance,” the chief tacked on.

If it wasn’t for Toothless grabbing onto the back of his vest with his teeth, the teenage Viking would have gone over the edge. “You know?”

“Hiccup, I’m your father and the chief. I’m not blind,” the man scoffed, the corners of his mustache twitching upwards. “And Jackson isn’t a bad choice; I don’t think I could handle it if you had a crush on Tuffnut. I have too many Thorstons to deal with already and if they became part of our family, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I don’t think I would be able to handle it either,” Hiccup shuddered, trying not to think of the idea of him with Tuffnut which wasn’t all that effective and he ended up grimacing at the image in his mind. Toothless seemed to agree, seeing how the Night Fury was lying down and scratching at his head, trying to rid himself of the thought as well.

“I just want you to know I’ll support you in whatever decision you make. You’re my son, Hiccup, and nothing will change that,” his father reassured him, resting a hand on the Dragon Rider’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Dad, that means a lot to me,” the teenager sighed as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders and it had been. He had been petrified of what he felt for Jackson, yet he had been absolutely terrified to tell his father. To know the man didn’t care and would love him either way was a huge relief.

“I just want you to be happy Hiccup,” Stoick smiled down at his son.

A smile formed on his own lips as his fingers drummed against the hilt of the dagger. Now that he’d talked with his father, he needed to speak with Jackson.  Before he could do that, he first had to track down the illusive Druid.

He didn’t have the chance to politely excuse himself to find the brunet as a blazing dragon shot by the father and son, his rider screaming. “Retreat! Retreat! Dogfight! Hookfang! Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow. It burns! It burns! It burns

Three more dragons shot passed, following Snotlout and Hookfang, Astrid slowing down as Stormfly hovered just a few dozen yards beyond the cliff. “Hiccup? We need you.”

Mere moments after the words left her lips, Gobber came hobbling up behind them gasping for breath. “Stoick, Silent Sven just broke his silence! And you are not going to like what he has to say.”

The two Haddocks looked at each other before Stoick shook his head and motioned to the members of the Dragon Training Academy. “Go on, it looks like we both have our own chiefing to do.”

Hiccup nodded in agreement and mounted Toothless. “Come on, Bud.”

Chapter 48: Rebuilding

Notes:

Telidina: Yes, they finally - FINALLY - kissed and Gobber and Finn got to have their little moment too. To know what Jack was thinking, stay calm and read on.

Mihas: As usual Mihas, you encourage me onwards, especially by saying how true to character Stoick and Hiccup's chat was, which was one of the things I was having trouble writing in the last chapter. It made all that deleting and rewriting worth it.

Midnight_Love_Songs: I'll send help in the form of the next chapter, here, go read and stop dying, please.

Bronwyn: Ahh, you made my heart melt. Thank you!

TwoOriginalCharacters: Glad to have your comment, better late than never to the comment party. You had me smiling with thinking some of my OCs were actually part of HTTYD, especially since I really don't like making up OCs because I think they tend not to have any real depth to them.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hiccup wanted to scream.

Scratch that.

Hiccup did scream.

Toothless showed his displeasure by flattening his ear-plates against his head. Sharpshot, not pleased with the sound either, flew off of the Viking’s shoulder to fly wing to wing with the Night Fury as far away from the frustrated teenager as possible.

“Where is he?” the Dragon Rider grumbled as he leaned to the right and Toothless followed suit. He had wanted to find Jackson ever since discovering the dagger on his workbench in the morning. However, his father wanted his assistance with the village and then Snotlout managed to get into a dogfight with the three youngest Dragon Trainees only to lose horribly. At least they had managed to get Hookfang back on the ground and throw Snotlout into a water trough to douse the flames burning away the Monstrous Nightmare rider’s pants because no one wanted to see a pantless Snotlout. No one.

Afterwards, he had been roped into giving the trainees a lesson in proper dogfighting etiquette with the Dragon Riders demonstrating before he sent the younger generation off. He had every intention of finding Jackson after that, but Gobber cornered him and before he knew it, Hiccup was helping his mentor at the forge. More specifically, the young inventor was coerced into designing a new system to prevent the stall from burning down now Grump was keeping the forge from dying but ended up starting a number of fires in the process.

Hiccup believed himself free to go look for the Druid in the village only for a few Vikings to stop him. Some wanted to talk and congratulate him on rescuing the chief, singing his praises and cajoling him into sharing his side of the rapidly growing tale of his heroics. A few others pulled him aside in hopes of convincing him to stay for supper with their very pretty daughters playing hostess. Daughters, who up until he’d trained a Night Fury, wouldn’t want anything to do with a fishbone like him. Then there were the well-wishers asking about his father and handing him all sorts of goodies to deliver to help the chief recover after such a trying ordeal.

Finally—finally!—he was free only to find out Jackson wasn’t even in the village. Periwinkle—the ever-growing representative of the fae that she was becoming—informed him of the fact before flying off to rejoin the group of Wyldfae bartering with Gothi over herbs and shiny baubles. Which was why Hiccup was now flying hopelessly around Berk, looking for any sign of the brunet and coming up empty.

Grumbling, the irritated Dragon Rider took another circuit around the island, and with still no sign of the Druid, he admitted defeat. Not wanting to return to the village just yet, he headed to the cove where Toothless landed close to the water’s edge. Hiccup slowly unhooked his harness, fumbling as he watched Sharpshot take up residence in the trees to chirp a melancholy tune, and climbed off listlessly. The Night Fury, on the other hand, waited until his rider was on barely steady feet before bounding over to the lake and peering over the edge.

Toothless waited, still as a statue, for the right time and without any warning, fully submerged his head into the water. A moment later he reeled back, splashing water everywhere, yet his efforts weren't in vain. The Night Fury made a pleased sound around the fish in his mouth. Proudly, Toothless trotted over to Hiccup to show him his catch only to have the fish's tail whip out and smack the dragon in the face. Startled, Toothless dropped his catch which flailed back into the waters and the teenager had to stifle his laughter.

“Better luck next time, Bud,” the Viking consoled when the dragon gave him a dejected look which soon turned into a glare at Hiccup’s comment. With a huff, Toothless went back to the side of the lake and tried again. This time he wasn’t so lucky.

The Dragon Rider left him to it, only bothering the dragon long enough to pull his notebook out of the saddlebag before making himself comfortable on one of the rocks. With the new Dragon Trainees and their dragons, the Academy stalls weren’t cutting it, and he had some ideas to build stables under Berk, using the previous Whispering Death tunnels as a foundation and expanding where necessary.  He also added in some general designs to improve the village to better suit dragons and villagers alike.

“Try adding some more vibrant colors.”

Hiccup would like to say he didn’t startle, didn’t let out a shout or flail about, or even fumble with his notebook. However, that would have been a complete lie. Thank Odin it was only Jackson leaning on his staff looking over the older teen’s shoulder or else he’d never live it down.

“Jackson!” the auburn-haired teenager sighed as his heart slowed down from his shock only to start pounding rapidly again when his mind realized who exactly was standing behind him. “Jackson!”  

Said Druid tilted his head to the side and raised a curious eyebrow, a little confused at the change in tone. “Hiccup.”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the auburn-haired teenager said, closing his notebook—quickly jotting down a note to add more color—while the brunet took a seat next to him.

“You were looking for me?” Hiccup was met with a puzzled gaze. “Did I forget about an Academy meeting?”

“No, no you didn’t. I wanted to talk with you,” he tried to reassure Jackson, a little unsure what he was going to say. However, when vivid green eyes drifted down and trailed over the dagger clipped to his belt though, the same courage he felt when facing the Red Death welled up inside of him. “Thank you for the dagger.”

The Viking looked up in time to see Jackson turning his head up to the sky, a light red color dusting his cheeks which made the brunet look adorable. “I…uh…I didn’t think you’d want a big weapon or anything and I…uh, remember you saying the dagger was nice, even if you were just trying to be nice…. And, I got it right, right? The weapon and the crest?”

“Yeah, you did,” he nodded, watching as amber-colored orbs darted to look at him out of the corner of his eyes before the Druid ducked his head. “It’s perfect.”

“Sorry I ran out on you last night,” Jackson mumbled after a moment of silence.

“It’s okay,” Hiccup consoled, but the Druid wasn’t taking the easy way out.

“No, it isn’t,” brown locks swung back and forth before Jackson looked directly into vivid green eyes, pleading with the other teen to understand. “I…haven’t had anyone interested in me like that except for Dagur,” the name was spat out, “and when he tried to kiss me, I head-butted him in the nose. So when you kissed me, I didn’t know how to react and I…uh…kinda freaked out.”

“So, you’re saying that you freaked out when I kissed you because you like me?” Hiccup asked—not even trying to hide the giant grin stretching across his face—a teasing note in his voice.

The brunet just scowled at him. “Have I misunderstood the meaning behind giving you a dagger then?”

“No, you haven’t,” the Viking said and swooped in, giving the taller teen a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away to see the bright red flush cross Jackson’s cheeks once more. “Because I like you too.”

“Good then, no misunderstandings to be had,” Jackson mumbled, trying for normalcy but their conversation was far from normal for either of them. The blush was still there as he fought to keep his voice steady and even, but he couldn’t even accomplish such a small thing at the moment. “So, can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Hiccup immediately answered and the brunet slowly, carefully leaned in, blushing redder by the second.

Unlike the other kisses Hiccup initiated, both parties were fully involved. Jackson tilted his head to the side, giving the Dragon Rider better access as gentle lips pressed up against his own. Hiccup slowly moved forward, pressing a bit harder into the kiss, and moved his lips, tasting the cool, sweet tang that was purely Jackson. Finally, the two broke apart. Both blushing yet wearing matching smiles.

The moment was ruined when Toothless barreled into the two, knocking them both over and licking Jackson happily. The Night Fury was thrilled Jackson was there because his rider had been in a sour mood without the Druid around. Sharpshot seemed to agree too, because his singing went from melancholy chirps to jubilant thrills.

“Gah!” Jackson screeched, trying to push the large dragon off of him, laughing all the while. Hiccup was able to squirm out from underneath Toothless’s deadweight to roll out of the way. Seeing the other was free, the brunet reached out, begging through peals of laughter for help. “Hiccup! Save me!”

The Head of the Dragon Training Academy was about to call off the Night Fury, but a sudden thought struck him and a grin stretched across his lips. “Not a chance.”

“What?!” the younger teenager squawked, trying to block his face from being drenched in the dragon’s saliva and failed miserably. “Hiccup!”

“I’ll call him off, but on one condition,” the Viking folded his arms over his chest, trying to look like he was the one in charge.

“A condition, huh?” the Druid muttered; however, it didn’t seem like he was scared, but up for a challenge. By the gleam in his eyes, Hiccup thought he might have lost the upper hand, especially when Jackson whispered something to Toothless and the dragon stopped licking him. His ear-plates flickered, and a purring growl came from the dragon. “Get him Toothless.”


“That was totally uncalled for,” Hiccup grumbled as they walked through the forest and towards the village dripping wet.

“You started it,” Jackson answered with a grin, though the slight blush on his cheeks had the auburn-haired teenager smirking which only made the Druid blush harder. He fully deserved the whack he received from the gnarled piece of wood. “So now that we’ve wasted most of the day and are soaking wet, what are we going to do?”

“First, I suggest we change clothing,” the Dragon Rider said, plucking at his wet vest, and shivered as a breeze passed by them.

Toothless tilted his head to the side and let out a plasma blast dangerously close to the two teenagers. When the blast went off, it was small but sent a wave of heat outwards causing the majority of the water still clinging to their clothes to evaporate.

“Thanks, Bud,” the sarcasm was dripping off of each word which had the Night Fury’s ear-plates perking up. A chortling sound filled the air followed by the silvery laughs of Jackson.

“Now that changing our clothing has become moot, what’s next on the list of things to do?” Jackson asked, twirling his staff around in his fingers.

“Well—” Hiccup started, only to be cut off by a rumbling sound coming from the younger teenager. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Dinner at your house,” the chief’s son refrained from slamming his face into his hand, but it was a near thing. “Hey, don’t give me that look, I was busy…and…um…”

“You forgot? Again?” Hiccup deadpanned, wondering how many times they had been over this and how many more times they would continue to do so in the future. “Please tell me you at least got some sleep.”

“Nightmares kept me up,” Jackson shrugged his shoulders indifferently but the older teenager knew the brunet had been plagued by night terrors regarding his time with Dagur on Outcast Island. “And then there was some personal stuff regarding a certain Dragon Rider—who shall go unmentioned—that I had left due to a giant misconception and had to figure out a way to make it up to him while expressing my own feelings which also prevented me from sleeping,” the last part was said with a coy smile on his face which had said Dragon Rider blushing fiercely.

“Well, I think whoever this extremely lucky Dragon Rider is, he is very grateful for you clearing up the misconception but he would also very much appreciate it if you would remember to eat once in a while.”

“Well,” the Druid mimicked Hiccup’s tone, “as I said, I was busy with a mortal dilemma and since I didn’t want to bother Gobber and Finn on how I should fix things, I went to Bucket for help. We talked some until Mulch came in complaining about how some of the families’ winter stores had been destroyed in the attack and they needed to head out to do some fishing. Bucket pointed out it was too late in the season for them to catch much. So, I thought I would see if there was any way I could help.

“Remember the Hamadryad, the one you met?” Jackson asked and Hiccup nodded his head. “Well, she gave me some locations of a few bears and boars not expected to make it through the winter and would make easy hunting, in return she asked if I could clear away some of the burnt logs hindering her growth. Couldn’t do much by myself so I went to the Craft Guild to recruit some help. Typhan agreed to help clear the lumber with Firefang and Gruffnut—having been eavesdropping on our conversation—volunteered to do the hunting on the condition he would get the first pick of the hides off anything caught and after thinking about it, it wasn’t asking too much.

“So, between negotiating with various people and bribing a certain Terrible Terror to help me out this morning, I had no real time to eat,” the brunet finished and Hiccup could only gape at him. “What? I told you I’m a Jack of All Trades. Convincing others to help do my bidding is just one of my many talents,” Jackson teased, waving his staff about in an exaggerated gesture when he said bidding, almost hitting Toothless in the process. The dragon ducked in time to avoid being struck by the gnarled piece of wood but glared at the Druid who shot back an apologetic smile in return.

Rolling his eyes, the Dragon Rider shook his head. “Come on then Jack, let’s go get you something to eat at the Great Hall.”

Jackson uncharacteristically stumbled over a rock but quickly caught himself. The dumbfounded look on the brunet’s face quickly morphed into a huge smile and for whatever reason—not that Hiccup was complaining, not one bit—the Druid darted over, giving the Viking a quick peck on the lips.

“Lead onward then, Hiccup.”


Toothless looked at the two and snorted, shaking his head at his rider’s behavior. The dragon didn’t understand why his rider was so awkward around a potential mate. He had done okay so far—even did that weird thing he had seen other humans do with their maws, pressing them together which seemed like a human mating ritual—but he needed to display more. His rider had to show the one whose scent smelled so much like the winds that he was a strong and able mate—or in his rider’s case, clever and resourceful—to demonstrate what a good protector and provider he could be.

The wind-scented one had already shown them he wasn’t weak and a capable defender. Not to mention powerful, being able to drive away the foul-smelling creatures living inside the solid waters and he had saved Toothless in the process despite them being potential adversaries at the time. The dragon was still slightly ashamed of his actions concerning the wind-scented one in the earlier days but the human had shown no additional negativity towards him. It was like his rider had been in the days after their first meeting which further proved in Toothless’s mind what a good mate the wind-scented one would be for his rider. Best of all, the wind-scented one fit in with the other members of his rider’s pack and could keep the Monstrous Nightmare’s rider—who was always undermining his rider’s authority—in line and pacified.

Seeing that his rider needed a little help, Toothless took it upon himself to provide a nudge to assist things along. The nudge was almost a bit more literal in the sense the Night Fury’s tail had the wind-scented one tripping forward and it was only his rider’s hand lashing out, catching him around his arm, which kept the brunet from falling. It wasn’t much, but enough to display his rider’s perceptiveness and protective qualities which appeased Toothless. Especially when the wind-scented one let the hand that caught him to intertwine with his own, allowing their scents to mingle to a point that it let any other potential suitors know his rider already had a claim and they would need to go through him and Toothless first.


“So, what have you done today, if you don’t mind me asking?” the brunet asked as he was forced to walk a little closer to Hiccup since the Night Fury on his other side was leaning up against him.

The Dragon Rider shrugged his shoulders and filled Jackson in on what he had done thus far, which wasn’t much compared to the brunet. Though by the time he was finished, they’d reached the relatively empty Great Hall. Norbert was happy to hand each of them a bowl of gruel, spouting off something about it still being warm having just come off the hearth despite it being stone cold. Before Hiccup could comment on the fallacy of that statement, the Druid was already pulling them over to a table with an orb of yellow light flickering overhead.

“Hi Iridessa, how are you today?” Jackson greeted the little fae as they sat down and Toothless peaked over the table, giving his own coo of greeting. The dark-skinned Dewdrop Faerie looked up and let out a few weak chimes, her lights flickering before she flew down to the table. Hiccup could only watch as the brunet nodded his head, seemingly able to understand what the different rings and tinkering sounds meant. “I see, how about we make a trade then? You warm up our bowls and I’ll share my food with you.”

Iridessa jumped into the air with a thrill, nodding her head in agreement. She proceeded to fly over the Druid’s bowl first and held out her hand. Vivid green eyes watched in utter fascination as a bright ray of light surrounded her hands before a beam shot out and steam soon began to rise from the gruel. It was the second time he had seen any of the fae perform blatant magic other than the obvious orbs of light they produced while flying. The first being Periwinkle’s frost manipulation and Hiccup was starting to wonder what else the deceptively small Dewdrop Faeries were capable of.

He pushed the thought to the side and made a grab for his own bowl of food when Iridessa was finished warming it up. Before he could pull it towards him, Jackson used the hook of his staff to snatch the bowl away, sliding it next to his own. Reaching into his back pouch, the brunet produced a rolled-up piece of cloth held closed with some twine. Undoing the cloth revealed little pouches running across the length that nimble fingers plucked opened a few and pulled out herbs and spices which were sprinkled over the two bowls.

“Here, it should taste better now,” Jackson pushed the gruel back, setting his staff to rest up against the table while putting away the rolled-up cloth in his pouch. His hand returned to the table with the small summoning rowan bowl which he filled with some of his own gruel and handed it to Iridessa. The fae chimed loudly as she took the offered food and sped off up into the intricate decorative carved rafters holding up the Great Hall’s ceiling.

“Thanks,” Hiccup took the bowl as vivid green eyes tracked Iridessa’s flight along with the half a dozen or so other Wyldfae who appeared out of various places in the hall and proceeded to chase after the yellow orb of light with pleading chimes. Turning his attention back to his own meal, the Dragon Rider picked up his spoon and took a small bite. It was flavorful but tough, definitely better than the gruel usually was but nowhere near as good as Jackson’s cooking. “How is it that you can make everything taste better?”

Amber eyes blinked a few times before the brunet swallowed his food. “I just know what herbs and spices will work. My mom was exceptional at making potions and she tried to teach me. In the process, I learned all about the different ingredients and their properties. Sadly, I didn’t inherit her skills in potions. Conceptually, I know what to do to make a potion, but I just can’t make `em right. They usually explode, so I gave up on being a potioneer. It was only thanks to my sister that I learned how to apply my knowledge of potions to the concept of cooking, which paid off in the long run.”

“I’d say,” the Viking agreed, taking another bite of the gruel. “This is good.”

“I don’t know what you’re eating, but if it’s the gruel then you and me need to have a serious talk about your definition of good,” Astrid said, dropping her bowl of gruel down on the table with a clatter and took the seat next to Jackson.

“Hey Astrid,” Jackson nodded his head in her direction, absentmindedly reaching out and scratching Toothless beneath the chin when the dragon bumped his head against his side.

“Jackson,” the shieldmaiden nodded back before turning her attention to the Viking across the table. “Care to enlighten me on what it is you are eating, Hiccup?”

“The gruel,” he answered, watching as the brunet retrieved the cloth of many pockets from his pouch once more and pulled out the same herbs and spices he’d added to their food. Since blue eyes were focused on him, Astrid never noticed the teen sitting next to her drop the extra ingredients into her bowl giving the otherwise tasteless gruel flavor it shouldn’t have, and waved his hand above the bowl, muttering some foreign words that had steam rising from the gruel. “Try it.”

The shieldmaiden gave him a doubtful look and glanced down at her bowl. Once more missing the mischievous grin Jackson shared with the Head of the Dragon. Blue eyes widened as she took a bite of the gruel and looked back up at Hiccup with a dumbfounded expression on her face.

“This is good.”

“I know,” Jackson hid his grin beneath the guise of taking another bite of his food. “Me and Hiccup were just comparing notes on our day so far, care to join in?”

“Did he tell you about the dogfight?” Astrid asked after swallowing a huge spoonful of gruel.

“Yeah, I hear the youngest trainees managed to knock Snotlout’s ego down a peg or five.”

“Oh, they definitely did,” the blonde teenager nodded her head in agreement, grinning at the memory of throwing the brunet Viking into the water trough to put his flaming pants out. “But it was unfair to him too. For once in his life, Snotlout was playing by the rules of engagement for dogfighting with the trainees and took it easy on them. They didn’t have the same courtesy, though some of that was due to them not knowing the rules of engagement which we went over in great detail afterwards.”

“Hiccup didn’t tell me that part of it.”

“That’s because I didn’t know,” the Head of the Academy defended himself, glancing at Astrid with a raised eyebrow, wondering how she had come across such information. “He was actually playing by the rules?”

“Oh, it gets even better,” Astrid said wryly. “Apparently, the twins were playing a prank on Snotlout, making him believe he had seen four of the Five Signposts to Valhalla. To be precise, the flying fish—which I’m assuming was some spawning salmon—the weeping rock—or in this case a wet rock on the beach—the singing trees—that was only a gust of wind, but Ruffnut convinced him otherwise—and the shepherd's curse in the form of Sven’s runaway sheep. After seeing the first four signs, Snotlout wanted to ‘pass on his legacy’ by teaching the trainees to dogfight at Tuffnut’s insistence. Everything came to a head when the fifth sign—the bird of death—fell at my feet, and I do mean literally. Barf and Belch were dropping chickens through the dome on the Academy and missed, landing at my feet instead of his.”

“Oh great, just what I need, another problem to take care of on top of everything else,” Hiccup moaned already thinking of the repercussions and all the work it meant for him. Toothless, seeing his rider’s distress, went over to his side and put his head on the teenager’s lap. He was rewarded with the Viking petting the hard-to-reach spot behind his ear-plate.

Astrid shook her head and waved him off with her free hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve already taken care of it. I let Snotlout take care of the twins’ punishments seeing how he was the one they wronged and I’m having the children clean up the Academy from top to bottom for their part in the prank.”

“Should I be worried about the twins if my cousin’s the one in charge of their punishment?”

“Actually, no. He’s making them help Gobber in the forge,” the shieldmaiden said, a hint of surprise in her own voice at the punishment Snotlout devised for the twins. “Gobber was happy to get all the help he can get with ‘only forty-one shopping days left until Snoggletog’ along with the extra work he’s getting because of the invasion. The twins certainly won’t be playing any more pranks on anybody else for a while after Gobber’s through with them.”

“They won’t, but others might,” Hiccup mumbled, glancing at Jackson who just sat there looking innocent as he ate the last of his meal.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” the auburn-haired Viking dismissed, looking back over to Astrid who didn’t appear to be completely convinced. “Just thinking about Snoggletog that’s all.”

A smile formed across her lips at the mention of her favorite festival. “Yeah, it’ll be our second one with the dragons. Though, this season we’ll have to integrate their own customs into ours, we don’t want a repeat of last year.”

“Not after rebuilding the village again, that’s for sure,” Hiccup agreed, noticing Fishlegs looking around the Great Hall for a place to sit and waving him over in view of the fact that the number of people had nearly doubled since they had first arrived.

“Would someone mind filling in the Druid who is completely confused here?” Jackson asked, glancing back and forth between the Head of the Academy and the shieldmaiden.

“Snoggletog happens to be the time of year when dragons migrate to lay their eggs on an island, The Berkery. Good thing too, because we found out dragon eggs tend to explode when they hatch,” Fishlegs answered as he took a seat next to Hiccup.

“They explode?” the brunet looked around to the others for confirmation that the Gronckle rider wasn’t just pulling his leg. When both of the other Dragon Riders nodded their heads—Astrid wincing before she too nodded—amber eyes blinked a few times. “I’ll have to remember that for future reference.”

“Please do,” Fishlegs begged, watching as the shieldmaiden polished off the last of her gruel. Not able to hold back his growing curiosity any longer, he had to ask. “How can you eat that stuff?”

“Because it’s good; anyways, I have to go, I promised to help Commander Huffnut with a few things,” Astrid answered the hefty Viking before addressing them as a whole. Standing up, she gathered the dishes to drop off with Norbert before heading out of the Great Hall.

Looking down at his bowl, the heavyset blond tentatively took a bite, and not a second later, a shiver ran up his whole body as he choked down the food.

“How can Astrid like this? It tastes terrible.” The sudden laughter from Jackson was unexpected and unexplainable, which had Fishlegs looking around bewildered. “What? Was it something I said?”

Shaking his head, Hiccup smiled at the brunet in an attempt to suppress his laughter but he didn’t do that good of a job. “Don’t worry about it Fishlegs. Jackson was just reminded of a funny joke, it’s nothing.”

“If you’re sure,” Fishlegs drew out, eyes darting over to the Druid with a wary expression. “So, have you come up with any idea what to do when the dragons leave?”

“Not yet,” the chief’s son shook his head. “But I don’t think we will have to worry too much about that, with Dagur in jail and Alvin no longer a threat, the only thing we have to worry about is the tribe’s reaction to the dragons leaving.”

“Well, it can’t be all that bad now, can it?” Jackson finally stopped laughing long enough to ask. The twin stares he received was the only answer he got.


“I don’t want Neðan to lea~ve,” Terrorthi wailed, clinging to said Whispering Death for all she was worth while Snuffnut and Gustav attempted to pry the much smaller Dragon Rider Trainee away from the Boulder-class dragon without any success. Both boys were eternally grateful they were near the edge of the village where not many people would see such a travesty to their manhood. The few people who were nearby were too busy looking up, watching the beginnings of the dragon migration, and weren’t paying any attention to them.

“How is she this strong?” the Monstrous Nightmare trainee grunted as he pulled harder yet the dark-haired child didn’t budge.

“She’s Gothi’s niece, stop asking ridiculous questions and pull!” the blond boy growled, his hold slipping on the Whispering Death trainee with their last combined yank. Both he and Gustav ended up in a snowbank while Terrorthi started to weep into green scales.

“Terrorthi, hush now, child,” Jackson whispered, coming up behind the little trainees, and kneeled down next to the weeping girl. He placed a comforting hand on the little shieldmaiden’s shoulder. The simple touch had Terrorthi whirling around and throwing herself into the brunet’s awaiting arms. Leaning his staff against his shoulder, he wrapped her up into a comforting hug. “It’s going to be alright, Neðan is only going to be gone for a little while, ten to fourteen days if Hiccup can be trusted.”

“He can!” Snuffnut was quick to assure—which Jackson had been counting on—as he hung from Torch’s maw by the back of his shirt.

“Yeah, I remember last winter. The dragons weren’t gone all that long,” Gustav agreed, hanging upside-down by the leg Fanghook was holding him by. “And then, it was a lot closer to Snoggletog then. It’s like twenty-four days until Snoggletog now, so the dragons will definitely return by then.”

“And don’t you want Neðan to have a good time? This is his—and the rest of the dragons—time to celebrate too, are you going to be selfish and keep him from going?” the brunet asked, gesturing his head to the two giant dragons to put the trainees down. The Typhoomerang was kind enough to gently set his rider on his feet while the Monstrous Nightmare—in true form to his predecessor—dropped his rider back into the snowbank, head first.

“No,” the girl shook her head sniffling. “But I don’t want him to go…what if he never comes back?”

Chuckling, Jackson shuffled the girl so she was in his arms and stood up. “Hey, are you telling me you stop believing in the moon when the sun comes out?”

Shaking her head, despite it being buried in the Druid's shoulder, her mumbled reply was barely clear. “No.”

“Okay, do you stop believing in the sun when the clouds block it out?”

“No,” Terrorthi repeated, voice a little stronger than before.

“Well then, what makes you think Neðan won’t come back? Are you going to stop believing in him?”

Leaning back, the Whispering Death trainee used her fists to rub the tears away from her eyes and looked up into brightly gleaming amber. “No.”

“Good, because he’ll always be here,” Jackson said, pointing at the child’s heart, “with you even when you’re far apart. You’ll always have a little bit of each other because when you love someone, you give them a piece of yourself and they, in turn, give a piece of themselves to you.”

“Really?” Terrorthi asked, her face brightening as the brunet set her down and pulled a piece of cloth out of his pouch to dab away the remaining tears.

“Would I trick you?”

Snuffnut and Gustav looked at each other from behind the smaller girl and spoke up. “Yes.”

There was a pause before Jackson burst out laughing. “Well, alright. I can't fault you for being right, but, not this time. I promise you, everything is going to be fine. Besides, the chief has a big announcement at noon; something about a surprise to get everyone’s mind off the dragons leaving. Though, I don’t think he expected them to leave today.”

“Really?” the children perked up, long faces no longer quite as long as they had been a moment prior. “Do you know what it is? Can you tell us?”

“I probably would if I could, but I can’t. It’s going to be a surprise for me as well,” Jackson scrunched up his nose, remembering that Hiccup hadn’t given him any clues regardless of him constantly pestering the chief’s son. He should have tried bribing him. Both Toothless and Sharpshot responded well to bribes, what was there to say Hiccup wouldn’t be as receptive to bribery in the form of kisses as the dragons were for fishes? “So how about we all say goodbye to the dragons and let them go have their own fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the three chorused dejectedly, shoulders slumping as they made their way to their respective dragons.

Staring up at the giant Typhoomerang, Snuffnut dug into the satchel he brought along and pulled out a large eel which he offered to the dragon. Torch leaned down and slurped up the eel out of the blond’s hands, thankfully before any of the other dragons saw it and caused any chaos. Once finished eating, the orange dragon rubbed his face up against Snuffnut.

“Bye Torch.”

“Stay tough, Fanghook,” Gustav stood up straight as the dragon copied his actions.

Placing a kiss on the Whispering Death’s nose-horn, Terrorthi rubbed her face against his. “I love you, Neðan, please come back.”

A distant dragon’s roar filled the air and the dragons glanced skywards. With one last glance at their riders, the trio of dragons took off after the horde. Beating their wings rapidly to catch up before they were left behind as the migrating dragons flew towards The Berkery.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Jackson turned his head to the side to find Bucket. “I’ll take it from here Jackson; you’re already late enough as is.”

“Thanks, Bucket,” the Druid grinned, twirling his staff around his fingers. He started to head out, only to stop and look back at the blond Viking. “They’re still meeting by the docks, right?”

“Right, and watch out on the incline, there’s some ice,” Bucket called out even as the brunet ran out of hearing range. The winds were kind enough to carry the words to his ears; although, the ice wasn’t going to be a problem, not for him.

In fact, as soon as amber eyes found the ice leading down the incline from the high cliffs to the docks down below, the Druid jumped. But not out of the way, no Jackson jumped on the ice and allowed his momentum to propel him across the slick surface. Keeping his balance was second nature to the brunet as he skidded down the incline. His staff reached out and hooked onto the pole which swung him around and onto the wooden ramp where he began running again.

He reached the docks in record time, finding he wasn’t too late seeing as Stoick, Spitelout, their sons, and Commander Huffnut were still waiting. All eyes turned towards the ocean, waiting for the longboat with the Outcast’s crest on the sail to dock. Running up, he slid passed Toothless—giving the dragon a pat on the head—and came to stand next to Snotlout.

“You’re late,” the burly Viking whispered out too low for his father to hear.

Brushing off his cloak and making himself presentable for their guests, Jackson not so subtly whacked the other brunet with his staff: hard. “You deal with emotional children refusing to release their dragons and see how long it takes you.”

“Ha,” Snotlout snorted at the Druid’s whispered reply. “I had to deal with Fishlegs, which couldn’t have been all that different.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Shh,” Hiccup shushed them, leaning back to look around the adults at the two chatty brunets. Leaning back himself, Jackson waved at the auburn-haired teenager and bit his lip when Hiccup trailed off, seeing how he had been distracted by the Druid. “They’re docking now.”

“Alvin!” Stoick shouted as a gangplank was slammed down on the docks and the Outcast chief pushed his way to the front. “How was the journey over? No troubles with any ice I take it?”

A robust, ragged laugh came out of the not-so-unkempt Outcast chief’s mouth as he slapped Berk’s chief’s arm good-humoredly. “As if that would keep me from beating your ass, the Gold is going to be mine.”

Spitelout snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not likely. It will be you Outcasts who will taste defeat at our hands.”

“We’ll see about that,” Alvin laughed and promptly disregarded Snotlout’s father, much to the man’s displeasure.

As they continued talking, Jackson discreetly tapped the boot of the Viking teenager next to him with the butt of his staff. “What’s going on? Gold? What are they talking about?”

Glancing up at his father, who had pushed himself back into the conversation, Snotlout knew the man was going to be ignoring him for the foreseeable future and turned back to the Druid. “It’s like this, every four winters we have what’s called the Winter Games to compete in. The Games consist of Bobsledding, Ski Jumping, Speed Skating, and Snowboarding, the latter of which is a relatively new addition.”

“I have a feeling these might be different than the Winter Olympic games I’m used to,” Jackson whispered in English, earning him a curious glance from the Viking before he switched back over to Old Norse. “And just how do you play these games?”

“Puf, they’re easy,” the broad-shouldered Viking waved off. “Ski Jumping you’re launched out of a catapult and through the sky into a glacier, the person who is the highest up the glacier wins. Then there’s Speed Skating. Usually, adolescent Gronckles are tied to the participants’ backs to launch them forward but since the dragons are gone we’re just going to be doing it the old-fashioned way. Bobsledding, you just need strength, courage, and a guy named Bob.”

“Why a guy named Bob?”

“To be your Bob-sled of course.”

“I’m not even going to ask. Nope,” Jackson shook his head as he mumbled in English too low for anyone to hear him.

“Lastly, there’s snowboarding. Actually, Hiccup invented it during the last Games, anyways, you use a wooden plank and go down a snow-covered mountain doing tricks.”

“That I’m a little familiar with,” the brunet sighed, finally finding something he was accustomed to. Maybe, if the Games were opened to all, he could join in and play. It would be great fun. “So, it’s been four winters since the last Games, huh?”

“No, just two winters,” Hiccup said, sneaking around the adults to stand next to his friends. “Dad thought having the Games early would keep our minds off the dragons leaving. Not to mention, competing against the Outcasts instead of each other might foster some feelings of goodwill and help build our budding alliance.”

“Two winters hu—oof!” the Druid croaked out as a giant hand slapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward.

“Jackson! It’s wonderful to see you again!” Alvin shouted as said teen fought to regain his footing.

“Alvin, nice to see you as well,” Jackson winced, rubbing his sore shoulder. “How’s it going for you?”

“Great! I want you to meet the first life I’ve saved on my own. Boy! Get over here!” the ragged chief screamed behind him at the boat of Outcasts unloading crates of goods.

A teen on the verge of manhood turned at the shout, brown eyes catching sight of Alvin waving him over, and set down the crate he had just picked up, large muscles flexing with each move. Standing up, the tall Viking made his way across the gangplank, his long blondish-brown hair and red blanket tied as a cape—because there was no other way to describe the stupid piece of red fabric in the Druid’s mind—billowed in the wind. Jackson had to look back and forth between Hiccup and the newcomer because if one was to take away the sleeves of his shirt, replace the fur vest with a short scalemail vest, and add arm bracers to match the scalemail along with a metal horned helmet then the two were wearing the same outfit. It was creepy.

“Saved him myself from drowning after his boat went down; he and the other survivors have joined the Outcast Tribe,” Alvin proudly stated, slapping the man on the back; though, unlike Jackson, he didn’t stumble. “He’s going to help us win the Games, aren’t ya, Hroar?”

“Hm, yeah, sure,” the man, whose name was apparently Hroar, grunted as he looked down his nose at them.

“You’ve made a good start I see, Alvin,” Jackson agreed, glad to see the older Viking was taking his vow to the fae seriously. After all, the Winter King would come for Alvin’s soul if he didn’t. The brunet briefly wondered what would happen if he came in his current visage of Bucket instead of any of his other forms—which would be amusing—before amber eyes drifted to the new Outcast Viking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hroar.”

“Yeah, sure, pleased as well,” dark eyes swept past the Druid and settled on Snotlout, “you must be the chief’s son, Hiccup.”

“What? As if! I’m Snotlout. Snot-Lout,” the appalled Viking jabbed his finger over to the Head of the Academy, “that’s Hiccup.”

“But they are cousins, my sister—bless her soul—was Snotlout’s mother, so there is a family resemblance,” Stoick tried to smooth things over but Jackson wondered how anyone could mistake the two cousins for one another. “Why don’t we show you where you’ll be staying during the Games? My blacksmith has volunteered to give up his hut for some of you and the Commander has made a few other accommodations as well.”

“I hope it’s not in your jailhouse,” Alvin said, eyes following after the Commander, “though I wouldn’t mind sharing a hut with her.”

The three teenagers shared a look and shuddered as Spitelout gave a wolfish grin, muttering for only the winds to hear, and in turn, they let their little Druid listen in as well. “It would be your death. Please try.”

“Hiccup, why don’t you show Hroar around while we go to the Great Hall for some drinks,” Stoick patted his son on the shoulder as Alvin and Spitelout headed down the docks and towards the wooden ramps leading up to the village.

Notes:

So, in my search for characters to use in the story, I came across Hroar in HTTYD wikia and now I'm wishing I could find a place to read the little comic series he was in. Sadly, I can't thus for the sake of the story, I just used his character design and general info from the wiki and twisted everything else to use Hroar for my own purposes.

I made Toothless into a slash dragon. *blink blink* And I don't even know how that came about. He just wrote himself into the story that way. *falls over laughing* Oh man, Toothless is now officially a HiJack Slash Dragon.

Chapter 49: Winter Games

Notes:

HearHearHear: Will Jack go back to the future? Will he remain in the past? Will he get his abilities back? Will he be Jackson Overland or Jack Frost? I only have to say, No Spoilers. Therefore, read the last two chapters and all will be answered.

Toffyy: I love Toothless's part too, even if he wrote himself in that way and it wasn't planned on my part, sneaky slash dragon.

icequeen: The small sequel I have in the works is only for the two part Race to the Edge episode 'Have Dragon, Will Travel,' it is not Jackson's involvement in HTTYD 2.

Telidina: Yeah, slow burn HiJacks is REALLY slow burn, but at least they're finally together and Snoggletog is coming in time for Christmas too. Which, in all honesty, is a coincidence that the chapter is ending up the same week as Christmas. I have no idea how I even managed that. O.o

Moonpuzzle: Hmm, interesting idea, what would slash dragon and his rider do if someone interfered with HiJacks? *sits down to pounder it* As for the Winter Olympics, after seeing the Racing for the Gold snips on YouTube, I just had to include them somehow. If you haven't already seen the mini-videos, I suggest all of you go watch them (and feel sorry for Bob the Sled).

HeichouTheTitan: I don't care, I'm getting FANART! I'm so happy! I can't wait to see it. THANK YOU!

Dire_Kumori: Thanks for the wonderful compliment, it's always good to hear from people who enjoy my fic. I started writing this for myself, since there wasn't very many new HiJacks fanfics recently and it's because of people like you and everyone else who has reviewed that I keep with it to the very end. 50 Chapters is a lot of writing and editing and tearing out hair, but I'm almost done. Only one chapter left. Holy Shit…I have only one chapter left…O.O >>> X.X

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“And up these stairs is the Great Hall,” Hiccup pointed up the snow-covered steps that a few of the younger generation were busy clearing the snow away. When the children saw the two Dragon Riders and the Druid, a couple abandoned their task to wave. It seemed like a few of them were even debating on scooping up some snow and starting a snowball fight with the teenagers, yet the presence of the foreigner kept them from going through with the idea. “Meals are served there three times a day but it is usually open to all at any time and if you’re really hungry, just ask Mrs. Larson or Norbert and they’ll be able to scrounge something up.”

“That’s nice,” Hroar muttered disinterestedly, brown eyes looking around the village as many of the Vikings were cleaning up their huts from last night’s snowstorm while simultaneously putting up decorations.

Jackson was rather impressed with the number of similarities he was seeing with decorations for Snoggletog that were also used for Christmas as well. There were garlands drabbed across huts with large different-colored baubles hanging off them every few feet. The lights coming from inside were brilliant and definitely, nothing manmade as they twinkled with a light that could only belong to that of the fae. Red ribbons were streaming between the different structures and every so often, the Druid would catch sight of sprigs of mistletoe hanging in the most populated of areas.

The children already finished with their chores were busy coating old shields with brightly colored paints. Amber eyes found Snuffnut, Terrorthi, and Gustav a part of said group in the middle with Bucket helping the young children and passing out extra brushes and paints to any newcomer wanting to join in. Thankfully, none of them appeared to be as miserable and depressed as they’d been when he left them earlier. He even waved to Gustav when the boy looked up, but the Monstrous Nightmare trainee seemed to be more impressed with Snotlout standing next to him and failed to notice the Druid.

The older, more agile Viking children and teens were busy bringing plank after plank of wood to the center of the village. A group off to the side then took the planks and coated them with a layer of green paint. Once the paint was dried, the green boards were then passed through various hands to make it up a ladder where a few young adults were busy hammering them into place on some sort of Viking totem that was steadily starting to resemble a pine tree.

“And that’s pretty much all there is to the village,” Hiccup concluded, drawing the brunet’s attention back away from the various groups of working Vikings and to their visitor.

Hroar’s eyes swept the area once more before landing on the Night Fury who had been faithfully following behind his rider. “I thought this place was supposed to be filled with dragons. All I’ve seen so far is that gimp.”

Which was the wrong thing to say. Toothless went from being relaxed, if somewhat bored, to pupils shrinking to mere slits while ear-plates laid flat against his skull and lips snarled upwards. For a moment, his mouth was devoid of teeth—and Jackson didn’t think that would last long if the Outcast Viking dared to say anything more—as a low growl began to rumble in the back of the dragon’s throat. By his side, the Druid felt Snotlout stiffen while both their eyes made a beeline to the Head of the Academy.

Hiccup, for his part, didn’t make a sound. But that was more due to the shock still wearing off than from anything else. With the way his hands were tightening themselves into fists at his side, he wasn’t about to let the comment slide.

Shifting his weight, Jackson bumped his shoulder against the chief’s son and drummed his fingers against the cloth wrapped around his staff. “They’re busy elsewhere right now, why? You wanna be eaten?”

“Eaten?!” the Viking’s brown eyes snapped to the Druid, finally taking notice of his presence despite him being there the entire time. “Dragons don’t eat people!” The two Vikings behind the brunet traded looks which didn’t go unnoticed by Hroar and he suddenly wasn’t so sure of himself as he’d been moments prior. “…Do they?”

The Druid opened his mouth—fully intending to draw things out as long as possible—but ended up closing it with a slight pout on his face when he was beaten to it. “Dragons don’t eat people. Well, at least our dragons don’t, there are a few wild dragons out there who might. We’ve never run across a species that feasts solely on human flesh, well, maybe the Red Death might have at one point. It would make sense if you think about it, what with all the stories about dragons eating people despite most species of dragons eating a steady diet of fish. But Hiccup and Toothless took care of her.”

“Morning Fishlegs,” Hiccup greeted the heavyset Viking while both brunets with him grumbled out their own helloes, seeing as Jackson was slightly peeved the Gronckle rider had taken away his fun and retribution while Snotlout just didn’t want to deal with any more of the blond’s crying. “Astrid, Ruff, Tuff, glad to see you all in good spirits.”

“Yeah, good spirits, yay,” Tuffnut sardonically grunted, twirling a finger in the air listlessly.

“We’re having a great time,” Ruffnut griped, shoulders slouched and blue eyes rolling. “Gobber’s making us clean and organize his whole stock.”

“Well, if you hadn’t caused that minor explosion to gain Barf and Belch’s attention as they fle—ow!” Fishlegs yelped when the twins elbowed him on both sides, which was partly his fault for standing between the two blondes known for their violent tendencies.

“Don’t mind them, they’re adjusting,” the shieldmaiden said taking a step away from the bickering trio. “So, what have you been doing? I heard Stoick requested the three of you to meet him at the docks.”

“Dad wanted us to be there to greet our guests and show him around the village,” Hiccup gestured to the Outcast Viking who stood apart from Toothless, Jackson, and Snotlout. However, for once those brown eyes of Hroar were not filled with disinterest but genuine curiosity as he looked up and down at the Deadly Nadder rider.

“And who might this lovely beauty be? A maiden you are courting, perhaps, Hiccup?” Hroar enquired as an uncharacteristic flush spread across the blonde shieldmaiden’s cheeks.

“No!” Astrid was quick to deny with a shake of her head.

If it had been a few months ago, Hiccup would have been utterly heartbroken at how quickly she denied the notion of them courting from the handsome Viking’s mind. Even if it had been a few weeks ago, he would have been a little hurt by the comment but now it didn’t faze him in the least. Not with Jackson standing next to him, discreetly feeding Toothless a few dragon treats to appease the irritated Night Fury, and when amber eyes caught green, a soft smile spread across the brunet’s face which warmed Hiccup despite them being in the middle of winter surrounded by snow.

“Astrid, meet Hroar. Hroar, Astrid,” the chief’s son introduced the newcomers. “Behind her is Fishlegs, our resident dragon expert, and the twins are Ruffnut and Tuffnut.”

“Please to meet you,” the man said suavely as Astrid’s blush became even darker when he gave a slight bow, shooting her a disarming smile.

“By Odin, I think I’m going to be sick,” Snotlout gagged at the horrid display, which was lost on the Deadly Nadder rider as her attention was focused entirely on Hroar. The chuckles he received from Jackson and—surprisingly enough—his cousin showed him his comment hadn’t gone completely unheard.

“I think I’m already sick…sick of him,” the chief’s son shot right back which had Jackson voicing his agreement, but also had a bushy brown eyebrow rising up underneath his helmet before joining the other brow to furrow together.

“Why? Jealous?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider cajoled Hiccup in an attempt to get a rise out of him.

The snort was unexpected for the sole reason it wasn’t one of indignity but of indifference. “No.”

“Nice to meet you too, Hroar. What brings you to Berk?” Astrid asked, brushing her bangs to the side, finally getting her blush under control. For the most part.

“I have come to compete in your Winter Games, fair maiden.”

All of a sudden, Hroar was bombarded from either side by the twins who were clutching well-muscular arms and looking at the aghast Outcast Viking with stars in their eyes. “The Winter Games?!

“Stoick’s holding the Winter Games?” the blonde Viking asked as she rubbed her cheek against the man’s biceps. “The total chaotic, dangerous, and absolutely amazing Winter Games?! Those Winter Games? Please say yes, please!

“By Loki, think of all the chaos!” her brother agreed before becoming still and eyeing Hroar with suspicion. “You aren’t lying to us Heraw? Tell me you’re not lying?!”

“It’s Hroar—” the man attempted to correct Tuffnut but the others were already talking over him.

“Is it true, Hiccup? Is Stoick holding the Winter Games?” Fishlegs bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

“Yeah—”

Pushing himself forward, Snotlout jabbed a finger into his puffed-out chest. “And I’m going to win! Those Outcast Vikings won’t stand a chance!”

The proclamation had the Dragon Riders not currently in the loop of intertribal relationships motionless with horrorstruck looks frozen on their faces. “Outcasts?!

“To foster goodwill between our tribes, Alvin and your chief have agreed to organize these Games as a way to improve upon your rocky alliance,” Hroar explained ever so politely, once more not giving Hiccup the chance to explain the situation to his Academy members.

There was a stunned silence before the twins broke out with wide grins and looked at each other. “We’re so going to kick those Outcast’s butts! Gotta go!”

“Does anyone else get the feeling they’re preparing to cheat?” Jackson asked as he watched the Hideous Zippleback riders run away, only to find stares of disbelief directed at him when he looked away from the twins. “Stupid question; never mind, forget I asked. In that case, if we’re done with the tour, I should really go round up the twins and bring them back to Gobber’s. There are a few things I need from his hut while I’m staying with Typhan,” the brunet paused, amber eyes drifting over to the chief’s son. “Wanna meet up later at the forge, Hiccup?”

“Sure,” the auburn-haired Viking nodded, grinning. “See you then.”

“Bye!” the Druid waved to the group, heading in the direction Ruffnut and Tuffnut had taken off in at a much more sedated pace.

“Bye Jackson,” the other Dragon Riders bid him farewell.

With no other distractions, Astrid found her eyes going back to the muscular Outcast Viking she was sure she had never encountered before during their skirmishes with Alvin. “So, I take it you’re new to the Outcast Tribe—” here the man nodded his head, which had the shieldmaiden smiling to herself at being right, “—where are you originally from, Hroar?”

“I am from a small remote island called Knall,” Hroar answered pleasantly.

“Are there any dragons there?” Fishlegs asked the much taller man, eager to learn about any potential new dragons the new Outcast Viking might have seen during his travels.

Shaking his head, the man glanced over to Toothless who gave him his most unimpressed look. “There haven’t been many dragons there in years, though Alvin told me there were countless dragons here and I was hoping to see more of them.”

“Why?” Hiccup asked, feeling a little suspicious of the man. There was just something about the Outcast that rubbed him the wrong way, not to mention Toothless didn’t like him and that was a good enough reason for him.

“They’ve always fascinated me, my father used to sing me a lullaby about them in an old obscure language,” Hroar explained, taking a step closer to Toothless, and held out his hand. The dragon glared at him and took a step back, lips drawn back once again. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Not really—” Snotlout grunted when Astrid elbowed him in the side.

We would love to,” the shieldmaiden smiled.

Hroar gazed straight into the blonde teenager’s blue eyes as he began his lullaby as if he was singing it to her and her alone. “La bend dǽdon níwe. Cúðon gare íewe deahl sǽ áre—”

As the Outcast sang, Astrid sighed in contentment as the sweet-sounding language filled her ears despite not being able to understand a word of it. Toothless, on the other hand, had the exact opposite reaction to the lullaby. The dragon began shaking his head, pawing at his ear-plates and as Hroar continued singing, his plates went back, and his eyes became slits. Pearly white teeth emerged and a howl echoed throughout the town square which was soon joined by a moan of pain. Neither one of which belonged to Toothless.

“—sé áre. Ig bæþ deahl sǽ néah. Déaþ ór cwylþ óga him. An wén. Flíete á. Dómdæg. Déaþ ór cwylþ óga him. An wén—”

Terrorthi!” Gustav’s scream of alarm alerted the non-enamored Dragon Riders to the girl’s petrified state, who was staring toward them with unseeing eyes and a trickle of blood coming out of her nose.

“—Flíete á. Dómdæg D-éaþ ór cwylþ óga him. Ia bend dǽdon níwe. Cúðon gare íewe deahl sǽ néah—”

Bucket!” Snuffnut cried as the tall blond man clutched the bucket on his head and moaned in pain, blue eyes darting frantically around him as if he were searching for what was tormenting him.

“—sé áre. Ig bæþ deahl sǽ néah. An wén. Flíete á. Dómdæg—”

Jackson!” twin voices rang out which had vivid green eyes darting away from the distressed Night Fury to the form of the brunet on his hands and knees shaking in what appeared to be unbelievable agony while Ruffnut and Tuffnut stood on either side of him. His staff was somehow standing upright on its own as the crystal that hung from it crackled with light and sparks.

“—Déaþ ór cwylþ óga him—” the Outcast Viking was abruptly cut off by a hand on his shoulder, squeezing painfully hard for such a slender-looking appendage.

“I would suggest, child, you cease your enchantment,” Typhan spoke gently, but there was a warning in his voice Hiccup had never heard from the craftsman before, one that spoke of great power and pain if Hroar did not desist immediately.

There was a flash of something in brown eyes—pure fear—as the man attempted to explain himself in the politest manner he had yet to display in Hiccup’s company. “Good sir, I have no idea what you speak of, I was only singing a lullaby my father taught me.”

“Then it is no wonder your island hasn’t had the pleasure of being home to dragons if your father was constantly reciting a Sidhe sacrificing ritual as a simple lullaby,” the Guild Master spoke as a number of Vikings around the affected trio rushed to their aide.


“How’s Terrorthi?”

“Fine.”

“How’s Bucket?”

“Fine too.”

“Then—”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“But—”

“No, you were the most affected by Hroar’s—” the name was spat out “—so-called lullaby, and Gothi put you on bed rest and, until she clears you, do not even think about objecting. Both Bucket and Terrorthi are in their own beds, resting and not complaining.”

“I doubt it,” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, the dragon scale and crystal clinking together as he jostled the gnarled piece of wood lying in his lap.

The Druid proceeded to pout from his position in the makeshift bed of furs made up underneath the staircase to the second floor of Typhan’s hut. Hiccup only glanced at him, shaking his head, and went back to tending to the hearth while keeping an eye on the food the Guild Master started before being called away by Gruffnut. Jackson, thankfully, couldn’t even sneak out of bed since the giant lump of Night Fury flesh was using his legs as a pillow, effectively keeping him pinned. Even if he did—somehow—get out from underneath Toothless, the icy blue or silvery orbs of light would start chiming angrily at him and alert the Dragon Rider to his most recent escape attempt. The brunet couldn’t deal with the disappointed look those vivid green eyes would give him. Again.

Knowing he wasn’t going to escape any time soon, Jackson admitted defeat…silently. “What was up with that lullaby anyways? How did you know to stop him?”

Hiccup, who was about to sit back down at the table and work on some of the commissions he had for Snoggletog, stilled before changing directions and heading for the alcove where the Druid was. “I didn’t, Typhan did. Apparently, Silvermist—” the silver orb thrilled at her name “—heard the beginning of the enchantment from where she and some of the other Wyldfae were hiding away from the Outcasts and got the closest person who could help. From what Periwinkle has told me, Hroar’s lullaby was an Olde Sidhe sacrificing ritual banished fae used to regain their immortality. However, since Hroar wasn’t a banished mortal Sidhe, it focused on draining the life force of anyone—human and Creatures of Magic alike—in the vicinity with magic.”

Sidhe magic? Nasty stuff, it can even affect the gods if done right…or horribly wrong,” the Druid shuddered before the last part of what the Dragon Rider said sunk in. “Draining magic? But I don’t have magic; well, I don't have enough magic to cause that kind of reaction.”

Sitting next to Jackson in the nest of furs and blankets, Hiccup reached out and rubbed the top of Toothless’s head. The dragon leaned into the touch, not needing to open his eyes to know it was his rider. Yet the motion was more of a way for the chief’s son to focus himself than to provide comfort to the sleepy dragon. His mind was too preoccupied with all the instances Jackson used his ‘nonexistent magic’ to save them all.

“About that, Jackson, who exactly told you that you didn’t have a lot of magic?”

“My mom,” the brunet shrugged, not seeing where the conversation was heading.

“As I thought,” Hiccup mumbled, the last piece of the puzzle finally clicking into place. Granted, he really didn’t want to break it to the younger teen his mother most likely lied to him. It was the only logical conclusion with the facts at hand; a magical hating king out there and a mother living in constant fear for her child with magic—and Hiccup had no doubt Jackson would eagerly use said magic regardless of the threat of death hanging over his head—which could be solved with a simple little lie. Kári Overland claimed her son had no magic to protect him and he believed the word of his mother.

“Just as you thought?” Jackson repeated, obviously having heard what was said, and was looking at him with one thin brown eyebrow raised.

Grinning sheepishly, the Dragon Rider ducked his head at getting caught and toyed with the edges of one of the furs he was sitting on. “It’s just, with some of the things I’ve seen you do, the folded sunshine, the Lightning Rocks, and your crystal occasionally glowing, to name a few, I don’t think you’re as magically inept as you say you are.”

“But why would my mom lie?” the brunet shook his head slowly, denial building in his amber eyes which had Hiccup feeling even guiltier. “I mean, I’m horrible at potion work and my mom said that was one of the easiest things a sorcerer can do.”

“For the same reason, any mother would want to deter their children from practicing magic in a magic-hating environment.  It could very well get them killed.”

Jackson stiffened and slowly turned his head towards the Viking with wide amber eyes. “How did yo—?”

“We pieced it together, between some of the things you said along with your actions,” Hiccup hurried to explain only for the Druid’s breathing to speed up and come in shorter gasps as his hands began to tremble. Periwinkle and Silvermist both descended from their spots in the framework of the stairs and landed on Jackson’s shoulder, each trying to calm the brunet down.

We?!

Understanding struck the chief’s son at his slip up and he quickly moved to correct it; his hand reaching out to take ahold of one of the trembling hands, cupping it between his own. “Just between us Dragon Riders, we haven’t told anyone else; we wouldn’t do that to you, Jackson. None of us would say anything without your approval.”

Promise?

Smiling at the tiny whisper as Jackson leaned his head against the Viking’s shoulder, Hiccup nodded. “Promise.”

“I didn’t want people to know, I don’t want their pity,” a heavy sigh escaped those lips as the two Wyldfae—seeing Hiccup had everything under control—took their leave. The two teenagers sat in silence for a while, Jackson mulling over what the auburn-haired Viking divulged and found his theory had some merits within his own memories. Absentmindedly, his hand began to fiddle with the crystal hanging on his staff.

He just wished he knew the truth.  

As the thought crossed his mind, amber eyes caught sight of something in the clear crystal, drawing him in. Blinking a few times, Jackson found himself viewing his life in flickering flashes of images. Some of the memories he remembered prior—his mother conducting a potions lesson ending in a minor explosion caused by his inept abilities, him playing in the snow while all the other children had grown too cold to stay outside any longer, him teaching Flee to swim as a teenager—and some he hadn’t remembered—him picking up a small newly hatch golden bird that appeared near death until he held it in his hands and climbed up the tree to put it back in its nest filled with ash, being chased by some wraith-like creature, finding a horned white horse and a bony black-winged horse in a clearing on the eve of his death—yet throughout the majority of the images, Jackson watched as iridescent threads—that seemed to be highlighted for his benefit—spider-webbed out from around his younger self.

It was these iridescent threats that fed the golden bird a touch of power to improve the hatchling’s health. It was the iridescent threads that interfered with his potions, adding an extra component to the already volatile concoction, resulting in the explosion. Threads he unknowingly followed to find the two opposing horses on the day of his death—an omen if he’d ever seen one—and the wraith-like creature had used the very same threads to follow—consuming them as it went—them back to their source, him, and it would have eaten him too if he hadn’t of run. To Jackson—who was watching his first mortal life fly by—it appeared the iridescent web reacted to the Balance of Nature, feeding it and strengthening it as if it had been rejuvenated by magic, by his magic.

In spite of this, the images did not stop when he reached the same conclusion Hiccup had already come to and continued to flash through the crystal, finally slowing down when it reached the end of his mortal life. The images didn’t stop there either, showing his mother running towards the icy pond too late to do anything for him but just in time to hold back a sobbing Flee from going after him. His mother dragged her back to their settlement, but she didn’t stay away and came back with their mother, both wearing their Druid cloaks. A wave of sadness washed over Jackson as he watched his family carefully perform a Druid burial ritual at the edge of the frozen pond.

Then, without warning, the crystal’s image dove below the frozen waters where Jackson found himself watching his body sink further and further into the darkened depths. The crystal in the image began to glow, enveloping his body in pure light but not before Manny’s own light washed over him as well. Both lights, one gold, and one silver, battled for dominance before his spirit was ripped from his mortal shell by the silver light and altered to that of his Jack Frost visage. The golden light, on the other hand, continued to shine as his body drifted to rest upon the ground which was clearly not the bottom of the pond. Somehow, and don’t ask him how, his younger self was now in a dark and damp place—most likely a cave from the looks of it—as his crystal grew and encased his mortal vessel.

Images began to flash forward again, this time showing him in his life as Jack Frost—the iridescent threats barely visible, weak and feeble—right up until he took the blow meant for Toothiana. His spiritual body flickered as it fell through the air only for the golden glow to return, seizing his spirit and transporting it into the red array he found himself in almost a year ago. What startled him though, was when the Dís passed judgment on him and the red light enveloped him, his spirit was yanked into his mortal body encased in crystal—perfectly preserved for over three hundred years—that shattered as Jack Frost collided with it and a small piece—the same which was now tied to his staff—caught in his clothing. His spirit and body became one for the first time since his death.

Jackson watched as amber eyes sprang open, his body taking a deep breath as the wounds he received from the Nightmare Men transferred over from his spiritual self to his mortal vessel. No sooner than his eyes snapped open did they close again, a moan of pain escaping him as his crystal flared to life, and then his body was falling through the sky. Falling through time and space where he wound up in an era of myths and Vikings.

“Jackson? Are you alright?” Hiccup’s voice had him breaking eye contact with the crystal as the Dragon Rider reached up and wiped a tear away from the corner of his eyes. The Druid was startled, he hadn’t realized he was crying and used his free hand to wipe away the rest of the tears with the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah I think I am,” Jackson smiled, realizing he now had all his lost memories, those of Jackson Overland and Jack Frost. Moreover, he was whole in body, mind, and spirit and he knew just who he was. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Even after almost being used in a Sidhe sacrificing ritual?” the chief’s son asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Druid just hummed and nodded his head, leaning back up against Hiccup’s shoulder, and yawned. “Do you think Gothi will release me from bed rest for the start of the Winter Games? I’d really like to see them.”

“I don’t know, we’ll have to wait and see,” the Dragon Rider answered as Jackson mumbled an unintelligible reply, fighting to stay awake. Kissing the brunet on the forehead, Hiccup leaned his head against brown locks. “Go to sleep Jackson.”

“Mmkay.”


“Come on Astrid! You can do it!” Jackson hollered with the rest of the crowd as the shieldmaiden took the lead in the second round of Speed Skating. Her opponent was a head taller than her with a wiry frame, but the Outcast stood no chance. Even when he slipped up a few times in the first stretch of the race, the Deadly Nadder rider jumped up or ducked to dodge the flailing limbs which slowed her down somewhat but didn’t knock her out of the race as intended. Now she was out in front and putting even more distance between the Outcast Tribe competitor and her. There was no way the man could catch up.

“Yeah! You got this Astrid!” Hiccup yelled beside him as Toothless, on the Dragon Rider’s other side, let out a loud croon. Though, if the dragon was just making noise because everyone around him was shouting and screaming or if he was also cheering for the shieldmaiden too was up for debate.

“Wo-ho!” Snotlout shouted from Jackson’s other side when the blonde Dragon Rider crossed the finish line first and skidded to a stop, spraying ice shavings on the unfortunate onlookers up front.

“That’s two-to-zero in our favor,” Tuffnut cheered, bouncing up and down behind the chief’s son.

“If we keep this up, we’ll dominate the games!” his sister, standing next to him, agreed with a vigorous nod.

“Don’t forget, the chief was barely able to beat Alvin in the first round and we still have a long way to go,” Fishlegs pointed out from behind the brunet Viking. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For ruining the mood!” Ruffnut growled, arms crossing over her chest as she turned her back on the Gronckle rider who was busy rubbing his abused ribs. Fishlegs endeavored to verbally defend himself but he made the mistake of not defending himself physically as the blonde Viking rounded on him once again.

“Isn’t it time for the Ski Jumpers to go get prepared?” Jackson asked, providing the heavyset Viking with the perfect excuse to make a tactical retreat. Wisely, Fishlegs took it and left, congratulating Astrid on her victory when the two crossed paths as she made her way over to the group.

“So, what does that make us?” the shieldmaiden asked after the congratulations due to her were given.

“Two-to-zero,” Tuffnut happily supplied, but judging by the smirk on Astrid’s face, she already knew that.

-

“Correction, make that two-to-one,” Hiccup winced in sympathy as Fishlegs plowed head first into the snowbank, the Outcast Viking’s—who was a foot above him—ski stuck the Gronckle rider in the lower back.

-

“Three-to-one,” Ruffnut grinned as Snotlout landed far above all other contestants, beating the previous record in the Ski Jump.

-

“Three-to-two,” Snotlout covered his face as the catapult failed to launch Gustav in the air and instead flung him into the ground two feet away from its base.

-

“That’s three-to-three,” Tuffnut was torn between groaning that the Outcasts were now tied with them or laughing hysterically as his sister spun out of control on Bob the Viking and straight into a tree.

-

“That’s three-to-four,” Fishlegs winced in sympathy as Tuffnut was taken out by a low-hanging branch and Bob kept speeding onwards.

-

“Four-to-four,” Jackson grinned as Bob—the Viking almost frozen solid after three consecutive runs—crossed the finish line first, grinning brightly with Snuffnut and Terrorthi hooting and hollering on his back.

-

“Guys, we still have a chance to win! The next event is Snowboarding and no one has been able to beat Hiccup!” Astrid dispersed the growing tension building between the members of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe which had all the Vikings—both young and old—perking up and nodding their heads in agreement.

“Thanks a lot, Astrid; just what I need, more pressure,” the chief’s son grumbled under his breath.

“Don’t worry Hiccup, you’ll do great,” the shieldmaiden placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and flashed him a big smile.

Granted, it was Jackson’s casual unassuming words that had Hiccup’s stress draining away and him shaking his head at the Druid’s enthusiasm. “I’ll fly you up the mountain on Toothless!”

“We really need to get you a dragon of your own,” Snotlout mimicked his cousin’s actions and shook his head. However, the offhanded comment had Toothless sitting up tall and looking around before his eyelids dropped and he let out a growl of displeasure.

“Nah, I don’t need a dragon of my own,” the brunet waved off and patted the Night Fury on the head comfortingly before mounting the newly appeased dragon. “Besides, if I ever need a dragon of my own, I’ll just steal Hiccup’s.”

“Anyone else and I wouldn’t be concerned, Toothless would sooner bite them than let them near. But you? You could, would, and have bribed him successfully,” the Head of the Academy rolled his eyes as he climbed on behind the Druid—being mindful of Jackson’s staff strapped to his back—and settled down.

“Don’t forget Sharpshot, I’ve bribed him too!” Jackson added, further implicating himself without shame. “Alright Toothless, let’s get Hiccup to the top of that mountain for some winter fun.” The Night Fury shook his head to displace some of the flakes of snow that recently began to drift down off his head and took flight.

“You’re getting better,” Hiccup commented as the Druid seamlessly shifted gears to compensate for the higher altitude.

“Of course I am, I had a great teacher,” the brunet turned to flash him a smile, amber eyes closed. “And Hiccup? Do me a favor; don’t worry about the competition and just have fun out there.”

Startled, the Dragon Rider softened and nodded his head. “Okay, I promise, but only for you.”

The Druid chose that moment to turn back around, but not before Hiccup saw the little flush dusting Jackson’s cheeks which had nothing to do with the icy wind whipping against his face.

Coming in for a landing, the few Vikings at the top of the mountain made room in the limited space for Toothless. Muffnut—the twin’s oldest brother and apparently the Winter Games Coordinator when he wasn’t busy with his duties as a member of the Berk Guard—was already waiting to the side with the wood plank the auburn-haired Viking would be using as his snowboard. There were some slight modifications to the ordinary piece of wood for Hiccup to secure his metal foot to, but they wouldn’t give him an advantage unlike how many of the Outcasts complained in hopes of disqualifying him from the Games.

“You ready?” Muffnut asked, hobbling over as the chief’s son dismounted.

“As I’ll ever be,” Hiccup answered taking the board from the blond man and looking around at the other Vikings present. His eyes narrowed when they landed on the last person he wanted to see. “What’s he doing here?”

Blue eyes turned to look in the direction the Hope and Heir to the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans was staring and scowled. “Hroar is your competition. Alvin persuaded your father to allow him to stay—since the níðingr thought the lullaby was only that, a lullaby—with the promise he would never recite the damn ritual so long as he was anywhere near Berk or our allies.”

“Wonderful,” the Night Fury rider grumbled, rolling his eyes. He stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see amber eyes looking at him with concern. A shout from behind them had Muffnut groaning before stalking away, yelling for his twin—Scruffnut—to give him a hand, and giving the two teens some privacy.

“Don’t go worrying about him on my account; I can take care of myself. Just go out there and have fun,” Jackson ordered, brandishing his staff and pointing it down the incline. His features then softened and he leaned over, kissing the auburn-haired Viking on the cheek, hiding the action by whispering into his ear. “You did promise me you’d have fun.”

“I did promise, didn’t I? Well, I can’t go breaking promises, now can I?”

Grinning, the Druid shook his head and took a step back, patting Toothless as the dragon nudged him in the side. “Nope, a future chief can’t go breaking promises and you can’t be going breaking promises to me or you’ll regret it. Big time.”


Hiccup just came from the best run of his life on the Snowboard course. He had done numerous twists, flips, jumps, grabs, slides, and a number of combinations of such which in the end had the whole crowd cheering in sheer wonder and admiration. None of which mattered since he was feeling like he was walking on air, the adrenaline running through his veins nowhere near gone from the sheer amount of fun he had during the run.

The Vikings around him kept clapping him on the back and congratulating him, telling him there was no way the Hairy Hooligan Tribe wouldn’t win with a run like that. He believed them too, right up until Hroar descended the slope, copying every twist, flip, jump, grab, slide, and combination move for move. There was no stunt he failed to copy, neither were there any additional moves thrown in to make his run even the slightest bit original leaving them with a problem; there was no way to determine whose run was better.

“It’s a tie?” Hiccup spoke evenly despite the cold feeling seeping through his body.

“It’s an overall tie,” Snotlout absentmindedly corrected, jaw hanging open as he looked at the scoreboard.

“What does that mean then?” Fishlegs asked, eyes darting around the growing restlessness of the crowd who were eyeing the opposing tribe with hostility.

“Tiebreaker!” the twins yelled, pumping their fists in the air.

“Which the Outcasts are one step ahead of us. There, look,” Astrid pointed at a bulky Viking at the top of the mountain, already heading down the incline. His tricks weren’t as intricate as the ones Hiccup came up with and Hroar copied. However, they were enough to get the crowd of Outcast Vikings cheering and some of the Hooligan tribal members as well.

“One problem,” Tuffnut pulled their attention away from the Snowboarder halfway down the mountain. “We’re all done here—”

“—and none of us can get up there fast enough to make it in time for the next run,” Ruffnut took over their logical argument as the members of the Academy looked at one another, horror on their faces.

Whirling around, Snotlout grabbed ahold of his cousin’s vest and pulled him forward to look him straight in the eyes. “Who’s all up there? Who could possibly compete for our tribe?”

“Well… uh… There’s Muffnut—”

The Gronckle rider shook his head. “He can’t do it, he’s the Winter Games Coordinator.”

“—and he was calling for Scruffnut—”

“Urg, she’s even less coordinated than Ruffnut!” the blond Viking with dreadlocks bemoaned and surprisingly enough, his sister didn’t punch him but nodded her head in agreement.

“—Mulch—”

“Definitely not going to be of help there,” the shieldmaiden groaned as things began looking even bleaker and bleaker by the moment.

“—and… uh… Jackson?!

“I don’t know, he might be able to snowboard, but will he be any good?” Ruffnut tapped her chin with a thoughtful expression on her face.

When their leader didn’t say anything and continued to look past them, Astrid took a step forward. “Hiccup?”

He didn’t answer verbally, just gulped and pointed at the mountain. As one, the group of Dragon Riders turned to see a blue figure complete a flip and land perfectly as Jackson sped on down the mountain. A fallen, snow-covered tree—which Hiccup had used during his run—was no obstacle for the brunet who slid down its length, his snowboard traveling perpendicular along the tree while he was facing uphill. At the end of the length, the brunet flipped his body around and proceeded to head for the makeshift ramp where he did a frontside inverted, planting his hand in the snowbank and holding the position for a split second before he was off again. He ended with a backward-flipping backside spin before slaloming back and forth to reduce his speed as he crossed the finish line.

It was silent before the Hairy Hooligan Tribe erupted in celebration. Jackson had won them the Winter Games.

Notes:

So, yeah, Jackson Overland is officially mortal. Did the little crystal recap read clearly to you guys? I ask because in my head I know what's happening but I just want to make sure it came out clear to someone who isn't in my head (and if any of you are in my head, I politely ask that you leave. I don't want you getting lost and wander somewhere that'll scar you for life).

Now, to bow out before people start banging at my door for hurting Jack one last time. In my defense, he's just too adorable not to. *Runs away and goes underground to finish the last chapter.*

Chapter 50: This is Berk

Notes:

This will probably be my longest author's note just because it's the last chapter. (OMG! It's Done, It's Done, IT'S DONE! *jumps up and down*) So, let's begin.

Moonpuzzle: I'm glad you took my advice and went to watch Racing for the Gold and we all know how good of a sled Bob makes. Hroar was supposed to be suspicious and the spell comes from Merlin (the BBC TV show). Also, thank you for answering my question at the end of the last chapter, you're the first one that did, so I'm glad it made sense to someone, not me. And no, it's not wrong of you to think Jackson is mortal but for how long…somehow, you know me too well.

j99450: Yes, Slash!Toothless HiJacked the fic for a little while. I think he didn't think he was getting enough attention, that and he's showing his support for HiJack.

Genesisfreak: I am glad you think this story is dat gud to binge-read it all the way through once more and please, when you're finished, write me a review from the perspective of someone reading it all the way through instead of a chapter at time (which goes for all of you out there who do the same ^.^). Please and thank you.

HearHearHear: Oh good, I thought I was the only one who liked hurting Jack just so others finally help him. But sorry, not more Hurt!Jack for this story. (I'm done, I'm done, I'm done *singing happily*)

Toffyy: I am glad the sweet moments between Jackson and Hiccup were heartwarming, they were very difficult to get right while keeping the characters from becoming too out of character. Yeah, the flashback was well-written and understandable!

SesuTheBlack: The twins do cause enough destruction without the help of their siblings, but they need more help or some deterrents depending on the sibling. Also, you have the most vivid description of what you want to do with Dagur…I like it…

Isaias_Q: I thought about making Hroar a suitor, but then it didn't jive, so he became interested in Astrid instead and I'm sorry to say, once you read this chapter, it will be over.

Vic: Not sure if I'll write a different HiJack story in the future, this story has taken me over two years to write and a year to post, but I do have a HiJack side story to this one in the works for the Race to the Edge.

Yuki_White: I'm pretty sure I read that, but at the time of the beginning of this story, there was a steady decline of HiJack stories out there. I'm glad there are still people who read and write them, but we're a minority now. Other fandoms with more stories, current updates, and a heck of a lot more writers keep seducing our members away till there will be nothing less. It's a sad reality.

ConfessedGeek: Yep, I celebrate Christmas, so thank you and I wish you a Merry Christmas too.

I wish all my readers, known and those lurking in the shadow, a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. If anyone wants to give me a present, I'll happily take reviews as my gift. Thanks to all of you who stuck with me since the beginning and to those who've joined in along the way, I hope you all enjoy the last chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“You cheater! Get back here!”

“Not a chance!” Jackson yelled back as he vaulted over the snow-covered hole Astrid ran into, literally, only to sink in with the first step. “This race is mine.”

“Not if I get to the village first!” the shieldmaiden’s voice shouted from behind him, quickly gaining on him as the Deadly Nadder rider shot passed him on a plank of wood.

“Now who’s the cheater?!” Laughter was his only reply but it didn’t deter the Druid and when he saw another piece of wood up ahead, a grin formed across his face. Reaching down, he scooped up the elongated plank while simultaneously using his other hand to secure his staff to his back. With a few more additional strides, the brunet tossed the piece of wood down and jumped on the Viking-style snowboard. After that, it was easy to catch up and surpass Astrid once more, winning their morning race for another day in a row.

“What’s that now, forty-nine to seventeen?” Jackson grinned as the blonde teenager finally made it to the village where the Druid—who had grown tired of waiting for her—was in the process of making a snowman. Currently, the brunet was rolling the last ball to make his snowman a head.

“Forty-nine to eighteen!” the shieldmaiden corrected taking her axe off her back and spearing it into the snowman’s body. Jackson tilted his head to the side with a frown and moved around the snowman, scrutinizing it with a critical eye before plopping the head on top. Withdrawing a few stones from his back pouch, he placed them in various positions, creating a face, and took a few steps back when he was finished in order to get a better look.

A smirk graced his face and he turned back to the fuming blonde at his side, making a flourishing gesture towards the snowman. “May I present to you, Dagur the Deranged: The Snowman.”

There was a moment of silence before Astrid’s lips started to twitch upwards and she ended up shaking her head. “That looks nothing like him—” walking forward, the shieldmaiden looked around, finding a few fallen sticks and twigs which she arranged so Snowman Dagur was pulling at nonexistent red hair “—now it looks like him.”

The quiet didn’t last long as the two burst out into laughter and looked at each other with matching grins. “I’ll make Savage.”

“I’ll make Mildew.”

That was how Snotlout found them later, in the middle of a battlefield of snowman Vikings being assisted by various children and teens who had readily joined in on the snow constructions when they had stumbled upon the two builders. A few Wyldfae—who no longer felt the need to hide with the Outcast Vikings back on their own island—were zipping about from one snow sculpture to the next, arranging faces for the snowmen or adding stick limbs to the creations.

“Um… is that me?” the Monstrous Nightmare rider squeaked upon seeing a horrible representation of what had to be him since it was wearing his old helmet. How they managed to get their hands on said helmet was a mystery to him.

“Uh-huh, it’s great, right?” Gustav cheerfully replied as he packed more snow around the snow Viking’s belly, making the Snotlout snowman look more like another heavier-set Viking and less like the broad-shouldered brunet.

“No! What’s going on here?” the teenager demanded, glaring at the Monstrous Nightmare trainee as a little burnt orange light flew off his shoulder and around the snow representation of him. A tinkering noise from the fae had Snotlout scowling more when he recognized the sound of Fawn’s laughter. “You know what? I don’t care, just point me towards Astrid.”

“She’s over there with Jackson,” Wartihog pointed towards the densest part of the snowman collection, not looking away from the Hookfang snowdragon he was working on with Speedifist and Clueless.

Grumbling, the Monstrous Nightmare rider stomped over in the indicated direction and stilled when he passed by a snowman with an axe to its midsection. Eyeing it, he shook his head and kept going, speeding up when he spotted a flash of blonde hair.

“Hey, Astrid!”

Turning at the sound of her name, the shieldmaiden raised an eyebrow when she spotted him. “Snotlout, what do you want?”

“No need to be a grouch, just thought I’d let you know Fawn says the dragons will be returning today,” the Viking grunted, kicking the Berserker snowman to his right and inadvertently causing it to topple over.

“Hey! I was still working on that,” Jackson pouted when he was revealed now that the snowman was no longer in the way. Brown eyebrows furrowed together as amber eyes inspected his creation. “Actually, it looks better that way. Thanks, Snotlout.”

“Jackson, did you hear? The dragons are migrating back today!” Astrid quickly informed the brunet—and the rest of the group of snowmakers, causing the children to cheer—as she tugged her axe out of the Mildew Snowman. She still had some unresolved anger issues with the man for breaking her father’s leg.

“Tis quite fitting, the Magical Creatures of Fire returning on the day which marks Winter’s End,” Periwinkle spoke from on top of the ice sculpture she had done of Jackson, which looked like the spitting image of him.

“It’s the Winter Solstice?” the Druid asked as amber eyes went wide at the nod of the Dewdrop Faerie’s head. “By Odin! I forgot about Yule. It started today!”

Standing up, Jackson quickly dusted off the snow from his clothing and grabbed his staff implanted upright in the snow. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about Yuletide, he had every intention of celebrating it in the traditional way his family had during his days in Hawthorne. However, he had incorrectly assumed that Snoggletog and Christmas were celebrated on the same day which led to him losing track of the days. In the back of his mind, he absentmindedly noted the last day of Yuletide coincided with Snoggletog.

“Doth not vexeth thyself, the day is still young and there art timeth yet to properly celebrate Winter’s End and Summer’s Beginning,” the icy blue orb buzzed around the anxious brunet’s head before he could bolt.

Letting out a huge sigh of relief, Jackson nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right Periwinkle, no need to worry. It’s only the first day of Yuletide, I’ve got time still and I only need the candles right now, which Typhan should have.” Turning to look at the two Vikings—Astrid busy filling Snotlout in on what exactly Yuletide was—the Druid chewed at his bottom lip. “Listen, it’s great the dragons are coming back and I really want to be there when they do return, but I’ve got a few things to do right now, meet up with you guys later at the Academy?”

There wasn’t even any time between the end of his sentence and Snotlout snapping out. “As if we’re leaving you to do this alone, this is important to you, right?”

“Yeah, you’ve been there for us and now it’s our turn to be there for you,” Astrid agreed, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest, showing she wasn’t going to be persuaded otherwise.

Jackson found himself blinking a few times before amber eyes softened. “Well, like I said, right now I just need to get the candles from Typhan to light one for the first day. Oh, but what about the tree hunting? Hmm… I guess, technically, the Snoggletog tree could be considered for the decorated tree… but—”

“But nothing,” the brunet Viking cut him off, “if you need to go tree hunting and decorating or whatever, we’ll go with you.”

“Hmm,” the Druid hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin and looking up at the sky. “The candle lighting can wait until later then, but we’ll need to gather some decorations for the tree. There’re some smaller baubles at the smithy Gobber made as tests for the bigger ones I could use.”

“I can get some ribbon,” the shieldmaiden suggested.

“I’ve got some old dragon’s teeth I’ve been collecting you could use,” Snotlout offered with a shrug.

“That’d be great!"

“Okay, let’s gather the stuff and meet here when we’re finished,” Astrid commanded, and the two brunets nodded their heads and each headed out.

Hanging back for a moment, Jackson looked to Periwinkle, Fawn, and a few of the other gathered fae. “Would you guys like to come with?”

The Wyldfae glanced at one another before shaking their heads, the icy blue orb speaking for the group. “These ones do appreciate the offer thou has extended, but we have our own celebration to attend to in Pixie Hollow.”

“Have fun then,” the Druid nodded his head and headed back to the village.

Effortlessly, he weaved through the numerous Vikings standing around and gossiping about the rumored arrival of the dragons. It made him shake his head at how fast news seemed to travel through the village during the winter compared to the warmer seasons. Then again, there wasn’t much to do with the potential superstorms of Devastating Winter lingering over their heads and no one was about to venture too far from the village, risking being caught in one of them with the potential threat of death.

Arriving at the smithy shop, Jackson was disappointed Hiccup wasn’t around to rope into going with him. Still, he made quick work of gathering up the various smaller baubles Gobber worked on to perfect his skill before moving on to the larger ones, and placed them gently into a woven basket to keep them from breaking. Spotting a large bag on his workbench, the Druid debated with himself before collecting it too and turned around, almost jumping out of his skin when he ran into a larger body.

“Typhan! You scared me,” the brunet sighed, taking a step back so he could look up at the tall Titan Constellation. “I was actually going to come to see you later today.”

“To pick up the candles, yes I know. I actually came here to offer you the use of my hut, it would be better suited for you to leave the candles there to burn instead of elsewhere in this village,” Typhan offered and Jackson quickly picked up on the implication, the candles were potential fire hazards in any Viking’s wooden huts yet the Titan Constellation had some magical protections to keep the flames of the candles burning throughout Yuletide without catching his house on fire.

“I would very much appreciate that,” the Druid smiled having one more thing for Yuletide taken care of and one less thing to worry about.

“That is not the only reason I have sought you out, young one,” the man said causing the teenager to tilt his head to the side and glance at the Guild Master with a perplexed look. “I heard it was a tradition in your clan to give a gift during Yuletide.”

“How the…? The winds told you, didn’t they?” the answer dawned on Jackson even before he could finish formulating his question. The gust of winds that swirled around him and the nod of the Titan Constellation’s head was answer enough. “But I can’t accept. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Do not fret, young one, the food you cooked while staying with me was more than enough of a gift. I don’t think I’ve eaten that well since before those Pirates attacked me,” Typhan reassured the uncomfortable brunet as he reached into his long sleeves and withdrew a silver armlet, and handed it to Jackson. Taking it, the amber eyes examined the delicately twisted silver piece of jewelry which would wrap around his arm twice with intricate spirals branching off from the bottom and top in a way he knew represented the winds. However, each of the spirals had little spikes branching out from the outermost rings, giving them the appearance of snowflakes.

“It’s beautiful,” the teenager felt a wave of emotion wash over him at his first Yuletide gift since he had fallen into the frozen pond. Setting down the bag and basket, Jackson pulled off his arm bracer and slipped the armlet onto his right bicep, quickly replacing the piece of armor. Admiring the silver piece of jewelry, he looked up and smiled at the older man. “Thank you Typhan.”

“You are most welcome, Jackson. Now you better be off, your friends are waiting for you,” which the winds confirmed with a nudge to get him going. With a parting farewell to the Titan Constellation, the brunet collected his belongings and jogged off to meet up with Snotlout and Astrid. He was quite confused when he found not only those two Dragon Riders already there waiting for him but all of them.

“Uh… Hi? What are you all doing here?”

“I’m actually not sure why, do you know?” Ruffnut scratched her head and turned to Tuffnut who shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going tree hunting,” Fishlegs informed the twins.

“Why? What did the trees ever do to you that we have to hunt them down?” Belch’s rider asked, rubbing his chin as he tried to think of what the tree could have possibly done to them. “Oo-oo, can I be the one to hack it down?”

“There's not going to be any cutting down trees, Tuff, we’re going to decorate one,” Jackson corrected the twins and held up the basket of baubles. The two looked a little putout but then brightened, quickly relieving the brunet of the basket, and began pawing through it.

Glancing at one another, the twins gave their famous grins which had Fishlegs and Snotlout taking a step away from either side of them. “Let’s go then!”

“We should probably follow them,” Astrid sighed, shifting the ribbon looped around her shoulder like rope higher up, and followed the two other blondes. Fishlegs scurried off after the shieldmaiden and Snotlout tugging along behind, dragging a good size bag with a few dragons’ teeth poking through various holes in the material.

The Druid made to follow but was held back by Hiccup who was looking at him with a strange look. “Why didn’t you remind me? About Yuletide that is? I know you said it was important to you. Yet I had to find out from Astrid what was going on.”

Ducking his head, Jackson bit his bottom lip, feeling guilty for not searching for Hiccup after coming up empty at the smithy. He was so flustered with himself about forgetting about Yuletide, that he forgot to include the other Dragon Riders when they had included him. The thought had him feeling even worse than he already did.

“Honestly? I forgot myself; it was only because of Periwinkle I remembered and then everything just was happening so fast. I didn’t mean to leave you—any of you—out.”

“Well, if it wasn’t intentional, I guess I can let it slide,” the Night Fury rider grinned, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “Just tried to remember to tell me in the future then, yeah?”

“I will,” the brunet smiled softly and grabbed hold of Hiccup’s hand, pulling him along. “Come on; let’s go find the perfect tree.”

With that, the tree hunting began. Many were found and discarded for various reasons. The twins’ choice was nothing more than a leafless bush. Fishlegs’s tree was too tiny for them to decorate while Snotlout’s choice was way too big. The shieldmaiden, while not picking out any trees of her own, was the one to dismiss all of the other's choices. Oddly enough, it was Toothless who found a perfect tree for the teenagers to decorate. From there, it became great fun in stringing the tree with ribbons and baubles and dragons’ teeth.  

Once done, the group took a step back to look over their work. “So, how does it look?”

“Great,” the Druid shot Hiccup a smile, “but it’s missing one thing.”

“What?” Fishlegs asked, trying to see what was missing from the tree, and completely missed the Druid picking up the discarded large bag he'd been carrying with him.

“Presents, of course,” Jackson grinned when all of the Dragon Riders looked at him incredulously.

“Presents, you didn’t say anything about presents,” Snotlout grumbled to Astrid in a not-so-quiet whisper.

“I didn’t know!”

“It’s alright, it’s my tradition, not yours. There’s no need to worry,” the amber-eyed teenager put a cease to the growing uneasiness, “and since you’re all Vikings, I got you all weapons. Well, most of you,” Jackson amended pulling out the first gift from his bag and handing it to the heavyset Viking, “since you already have a weapon of your own to use Fishlegs, I made you a sheath for the Gronckle Iron sword. The fae enchanted it so only those you trust will be able to withdraw any blade you put in it.”

“It’s so soft,” the Gronckle rider whispered, running his fingers across the leather as Jackson moved on, pulling another gift out of the bag. This time, he pulled out the dagger Finn had given to him so long ago. It was only fitting that it should go to his niece.

“For Astrid, a dagger perfectly balanced,” the Druid said, passing the sheathed blade over, and pulled out a good size mace he had commissioned from Gobber, “and a mace for Snotlout.”

Swinging it around a few times, the Monstrous Nightmare rider grinned. “A good weapon for a great Viking.”

The next to be pulled out from the bag was a set of wooden poles with leather grips wrapped around their lengths and blades tied to one end. “Twin spears for the twins.”

“Awesome!” the twins cheered and immediately attempted to impale each other with the blades only for Astrid to step between the two and prevent any bodily injury.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” the shieldmaiden asked, eyeing each twin to make sure they weren’t going to misbehave at the moment.

“Not really, no,” Jackson grinned at her, placing the empty bag down and began rummaging into the pouch behind him. His hand returned with a round, palm-sized object with a dome top that had a framework-like design. Pressing a small button, the dome flipped open to reveal the object to be a compass. “Last, but not least, a compass for Hiccup.”

“A compass?” the Head of the Academy asked, taking the object from him and watching as the needle in the middle spun around on its own accord.

Blushing, the Druid ducked his head. “Uh… it’s a special compass, enchanted by the Villas, the Hamadryads, and the winds—to represent water, earth, and air—so you will never get lost. Actually, there’s something you should all know.”

“What?” Snotlout asked, hefting the mace from one hand to the next, trying to get a good feel for the weight of it.

“Your weapons? They’ve all been begotten in the breath of a dragon,” Jackson rubbed the back of his head with the hand not holding his staff.

Fishlegs almost dropped his new sheath when his head shot up, green eyes staring wide-eyed at the brunet. “What? Really? You actually went through with it? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve liked to watch.”

Amber eyes rolled and he shook his head. “Because I wanted it to be a surprise,” not to mention very few dragons ever actually allowed their magic to flow into any kind of weapon and it had taken a lot of effort for him to convince the dragons to do so, “and I did find out that the different species of dragons does affect the weapons inherited abilities.”

“Really, how so?” the heavyset Viking bounced up and down.

“Astrid, your dagger, when thrown will never leave your hand yet a likeness of the blade will embed itself where you aimed before fading from existence. A deviation of Stormfly’s spine shot I assume. The mace you’re holding Snotlout, will release a blast of wind similar to Hookfang’s wind blast when it connects with something. In other words, be careful with them, the dragons might just very well eat me if you abuse their gifts,” Jackson warned half teasing, half serious while Toothless nodded his head in agreement behind him.

“We’ll be careful with them, we promise,” Astrid answered for the group, “won’t we?” The sharp growl had the twins and Snotlout nodding their heads in agreement. “Good.”

“Hey, what about ours?” Tuffnut asked, waving his spear around in the air. A sudden jolt of lightning darted out from the tip of the blade and jumped towards the matching spear in his sister’s hand where it dissipated harmlessly.

“Ruff, Tuff there was some problems with begotten your spears in the breath of Barf and Belch since Zippleback gas is a little touchy. So, instead, I had some help in enchanting the spears to act in conjunction with each other, creating bolts of lightning which will travel from one spear tip to the other,” the Druid smiled knowingly, not wanting to inform them their ancestor had been the one to enchant the weapons at his request. Well, technically, it had been Mr. Vadderung asking. However, Jackson asked the man to ask the god for his assistance, so in the end, he asked the Thorstons’ ancestor for assistance.

“Awesome,” the twins cheered.

They stayed for a little bit longer, examining each other’s gifts, and had a good time before rumbling stomachs cried out for food. None of them had eaten since the morning meal served in the Great Hall and Jackson was once more drafted into cooking for them. He wasn’t alone in the draft since Hiccup’s hut was picked to convene at. Once more, the Druid was held back by a hand around his arm whilst the rest of the Dragon Riders departed.

“Uh… Jackson,” Hiccup spoke only when the others were gone, fumbling around with his vest pocket. “I was going to give you this during Snoggletog, but umm… here.”

Trembling hands shoved something small into his palm. Looking down, amber eyes found a leather cord with a small silver charm no bigger than his crystal tied to the end. What had Jackson sucking in a gulp of air was the fact he was holding a snowflake and no ordinary snowflake either. This snowflake was a perfect replica of the first snowflake he had ever created as Jack Frost, which resembled the snowflakes in the armlet he wore to some degree.

“I uh… Bucket helped me come up with the idea,” the chief’s son rubbed the back of his neck, vivid green eyes darting to the side to avoid making eye contact with the brunet who had yet to say anything, “and uh… I made it with the extra silver I had left over from making Typhan the armlet—”

Jackson quickly cut the Dragon Rider off, amber eyes going wide at the unintentional revelation. “You made the armlet too?”

“Well, yeah, but I uh… didn’t know he was giving it to you and umm—” Hiccup was interrupted yet again by the brunet, this time by Jackson’s lips on his own.

“They’re both beautiful, thank you,” Jackson whispered, tying the charm onto his staff right next to his crystal and Toothless’s scale. “I’ll treasure them. Always.”


“One year.”

“Over a year.”

“Do you regret any of it?”

There was a bit of a silent stretch. “At first? Yes. Later? I wasn’t sure what to think. I was confused about who I thought I should be and who I was.”

“And now?”

A smile graced Jackson’s lips as he looked down the cliff at the ocean below his dangling feet. “I know exactly who I am.”

“And who’s that?”

“You know.”

“Humor an old man.”

“Alright Old Man,” the brunet grinned, taking that as permission to finally call the man by the nickname he had given the blond—in the future when he had storm cloud-colored hair—man as he stood up to his full height and twirled his staff around his fingers before slamming the butt against the ground. “I’m Jackson Overland, fifteen winters old, a descendant of the Taliesin clan, future Guardian of Fun: Jack Frost with over three hundred years of knowledge to rely upon, up-and-coming sorcerer, member of Berk’s Dragon Training Academy.”

“Druid of Berk,” Bucket added, presenting Jackson with a silver pin the size of his palm with a motif consisting of three interlocking spirals extending clockwise from the center.

It was a triskele. A revered symbol that had over time become an emblem Druids wore to identify themselves to one another. However, what was so special about this triskele was the engraving on the metal. It was hard at first to tell what was etched in the silver with so much of the image missing, but amber eyes could imagine and draw in the missing lines between the spirals to form The Berk Crest.

“Happy Yuletide, Jackson.”

“Thank you,” the teenager threw himself at the taller man, hugging him tightly. Releasing his hold on Bucket, the Druid took the pin and fastened it to his leg pouch before reaching into the pocket and producing a wooden goblet he had painstakingly carved from rowan wood with a wolf’s head protruding slightly out of the side. He presented the smaller-than-average cup to the Viking with a smile on his face. “Happy Yuletide, Mr. Vadderung.”

“Excellent craftsman work,” the blond man smiled and looked out to the ocean where a mass of dark shadows were moving towards the island. “It looks like you’ll be needed soon.”

Glancing behind him, Jackson smiled as he caught sight of Toothless helping usher the dragons of Berk back home for the holidays. “It looks like it, be seeing you. Later, Old Man!”

With that the brunet took a few steps back and timed it just right before running towards the cliffs, using his staff to launch himself over the edge and into the open air. The winds helped propel him the extra few inches he needed to vault off of Grump—saying a quick hello to the Boulder-class dragon—and tumble across the Typhoomerang’s massive wings, pausing long enough to gain his bearings on Torch’s back. Turning, Jackson ran across the orange dragon’s spine, down his tail, and dove off.

As he got closer and closer to the ocean, amber eyes watched the waters darken before a large blue head surfaced and Scauldy sprayed a blast of heated water—not too hot thankfully—at his descending form. Twisting in the air so the water hit his back and hurled him back into the air where Firefang flicked his tail to the side for the Druid to catch. Another whip of the Monstrous Nightmare’s tail—this time directly upwards—had Jackson flying further up into the sky where he came face to face with Skully. The Boneknapper blinked a few times as the brunet became weightless, yet before gravity could take hold, the Mystery-class dragon released a loud roar that had him sailing backwards.

Thankfully, Flystorm swooped down and wrapped his talons around the end of the offered staff. The next part had to be timed just right and with a shout for the Deadly Nadder to release him, the Druid fell all of twenty feet before he hooked his staff to Meatlug’s tail. He waited a few more seconds before nudging the staff free and falling onto Barf’s head where he skidded down the Hideous Zippleback’s long neck and ran down his body, flipping off the dragon’s tail. A wind blast from Hookfang had him higher up in the air where he could grab hold of Stormfly’s tail and held on tight until she flew right over the Night Fury.

The Deadly Nadder lowered her tail, allowing Jackson to slide off and onto Toothless’s back, where he latched onto Hiccup. “Hi, Hiccup!”

“What the—? How the—We’re in the middle of the ocean! How’d you get out here?” the Dragon Rider sputtered, whipping his head around to stare at the Druid—who was currently leaning over to look at the boat carrying the hatchlings sailing below the Night Fury—with wide green eyes.

“You really want to know?” the brunet asked as a giant grin split his face in two. “I’ll show you.”

With that simple statement, Jackson tilted his weight to the side and slipped off of the Night Fury’s back much to the alarm of both dragon and rider. Summersaulting on the way down—even as Hiccup and Toothless tried to speed up to catch him—the brunet landed feet first on Fanghook’s back where he ran up the Monstrous Nightmare’s spine and jumped to grab hold of Neðan’s spiked tail with his staff. He proceeded to make his way back to Berk in a similar fashion as he had done to reach Hiccup, laughing joyously as Toothless weaved his way around the various dragons trying to catch up to the brunet.

-

“This is Berk. We've got ice, we've got snow and we've got more ice. But we've also got dragons. We train them

Stormfly sniffed the air before sending out a single spine shot to break one of the various plates lined up around the Academy, shattering it to pieces while revealing Sneaky. Astrid shouted in delight at the Deadly Nadder’s tracking skills and proceeded to feed both dragons a piece of chicken as a reward for a job well done. Typhan politely clapped his hands before throwing a handful of plate-size rings up into the air in a widespread circle and signaled to Firefang. The dragon zipped up into the air and caught every single ring on his horns. The shieldmaiden could only gawk at the tight turns and maneuverability it had taken for the Monstrous Nightmare to complete such a feat.

learn from them

Fishlegs was busy at work recording the new information they had learned about the dragons into The Book of Dragons near the Snoggletog tree while Terrorthi, Snuffnut, and Gustav enthusiastically tried to help by providing him everything they’d learned from being partnered up with their respected dragon species. In doing so, the children kept disturbing the Boulder-class dragon trying to sleep. However, they soon were sidetracked by Iggy stealing Fanghook’s fish and taking off with it. The Monstrous Nightmare, in turn, took off after the Terrible Terror with Neðan and Torch hot on his tail and their riders running after them. Chuckling, the Gronckle rider hid the picture of a fish under his book and hugged Meatlug when she nudged him in the side.

protect them

Mulch cooed softly to Scauldy, keeping the Tidal-class dragon’s attention on him as Bucket carefully worked to pull the spear out of her wing. The usually calm and collected man grumbled curses the whole time at the idiot who had dared to stab her. With one final tug, the spear came out and the blond Viking hurried to cover it with some cloth to cease the flow of blood. A few seconds of pressure—and an unnoticeable glow from his hand—Bucket pulled the cloth away to reveal a much smaller wound.

and they protect us. Sometimes from ourselves.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were busy arguing with Huffnut and Gruffnut, about what, none of them remembered. However, when it started to come to physical blows, their dragons stepped in. Barf and Belch picked up the younger Thorstons and held them away from their older siblings while Head and Butt sat on their helmets, annoyingly singing their displeasure. Skully took it upon himself to flatten his rider with his tail—keeping him pinned—as Flystorm wrapped his wings around the Berk Guard’s commander, preventing her from advancing on the twins.

One thing's for sure. We wouldn't trade this for anything.

Jackson was busy chasing after Toothless who had the Druid’s staff in his mouth. Yet, whenever he was close to snatching it back, the Night Fury would toss the gnarled piece of wood into the air where Sharpshot would swoop down and grab hold of it, frantically flapping his wings as he flew in the opposite direction. Gobber looked up from nudging Grump with his foot—in an attempt to get the Boulder-class dragon to restart the forge’s fire—and shook his head as he watched the brunet dash after the green Terrible Terror, but knew not to interfere going on the delightful laughter coming from Jackson; especially when the teenager turned, only to end up running straight into Hiccup, knocking them both over. The blush from both of their faces could be seen by all who cared to look close enough.

Would you?”

Notes:

This concludes the end of Soul of a Druid.

Thank you once more for sticking with me during this massive undertaking and for those who've pointed out my mistakes (I never did get a beta, so sorry about the spelling/grammar errors). In the end, this leg of the journey is complete while the side story I promised you won't come out until after the New Year, so do keep a lookout for that.

For those of you who feel up to it, please answer any one (or all) of the following in your reviews (you really don't have to, but as a writer, I'm curious to know):
-Favorite Scene/Chapter
-Favorite Interaction between Jack and a Viking who is not Hiccup
-Least Favorite Scene/Chapter (and why, I need to know to make myself a better writer)
-Least Favorite Interaction between Jack and a Viking who is not Dagur
-Overall impression of this story (Either a descriptive answer or how many Stars out of Five will do)

And for those of you who feel really ambitious:

-List how many references from other fandoms (subtle or blatantly expressed) you can find in Soul of a Druid

Once more, thank you all for reading and pushing me to finish this massive undertaking. Feel free to look at my other stories and for those lurker, keep lurking.

~SilverlySilence
~Edited as of 03/01/2024