Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hiccup did not know why Pouncer considered this shrub of kingsblood particularly special. It had the same appearance as its other counterparts: mid-calf in height, three-hands around, with glowing pink flowers. And, in typical fashion, it grew along the strand of an iridescent pond, beneath the shade of great mycobloom trees.

As such, Hiccup found little reason for his youngest son to plod about its circumference on small, excited paws; black maw open wide; green eyes awestruck; short, bat-like wings flared. Equally so, Hiccup found little reason to lay on his belly, torso propped up on his elbows, a palm apart from a plant that grew in abundance within the bowels of The Hidden World— other than that his youngest son asked him to.

Of course, Pouncer attempted to explain his fascination. But out of his clumsy syllables, Hiccup only picked up the terms "stem", "bright," and "petal." It did not help that he punctuated each statement with a high-pitched squeal of delight.

A soft smile touched the corners of Hiccup's lips. Oh, how Fishlegs would have loved —

Crunch. Crunch.

Hiccup's left arm moved of its own accord. In the blink of an eye, his leather bracer buffeted a roving tangle of warm limbs, delicate wings, and sharp claws. Argh! The blow rang from the bones in his forearm to his gritted teeth.

Deflected, the wriggling mass toppled apart into a pair of hatchlings who screeched but a wrist's width from Pouncer's find.

Gods. Thanks to years of honed parental instinct, he had shielded the plant just in time. Hiccup exhaled a tiny chuckle and dropped his aching arm. Pouncer, on the other hand, trembled at his right side.

Poor boy…

As his siblings flailed to find equilibrium, plumes of kicked-up sand joined the will-o'-the-wisps floating between them. Those pearlescent, palm-sized orbs shivered against the new obstacles in their path in a way that struck Hiccup as oddly irritated.

He snorted to himself.

You and me both, buddies.

Ruffrunner recovered first. Rolling onto all fours, he shook his dark snout free of any lingering debris. "Mom!" he half-complained, half-sneezed beside Hiccup's left pauldron. "Tell her to stop calling me ugly!"

"I didn't say that!" Dart insisted as she stumbled to her feet. She whirled on her twin and snarled. "Mom, Ruff is lying about me!"

With litters past, Hiccup would have taken time to explain the damage words could inflict and the importance of sibling cohesion. But Pouncer, Dart, and Ruffrunner made up his fourth litter. After twenty years of dancing to the same song, he was exhausted.

So exhausted.

Hiccup closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you two are going to fight," he sighed, "please do it away from here."

Resembling a black dog, Dart crouched onto her forelegs and wiggled her tail. "Ha!"

Ruffrunner tackled his twin onto her back. Then, in a decidedly human-like gesture, he raised his clenched paw above Dart's forehead. That tiny mallet arced down, nearly colliding with his sister's face.

Nearly.

A deep, reverberating growl froze Ruffrunner's paw a single claw above Dart's brow.

Pouncer startled back with a whine. Dart arched her neck. And Hiccup cocked his chin over the kingsblood's crown of leaves.

Tracker, as sleek and graceful as any black-coated feline, slinked down the shallow dune several paces ahead of them — followed by a rather casual Cloudjumper. With every step forward, his muscular shoulders rolled like those of a controlled predator stalking its territory. And he wore a pinched expression, made all the more severe by the angular planes of his fox-like face.

For the entire length of his deliberate approach, Tracker's sharp, hunter-green eyes pinned Dart and Ruffrunner to their positions.

Gods…

Hiccup's stomach dropped as if he were the one facing a scolding.

Scuff, scuff. Tracker planted his paws into the soft sand before the twins. He loomed over them, hackles raised. "This behavior is unbecoming of leadership," he rumbled, voice deep and commanding for any dragon, let alone one still emerging out of adolescence.

It broke the spell over Ruffrunner and Dart. They scrambled to sit on their rumps — prim, proper, and in a way befitting their stations. At the same time, their large, yak-like eyes grew watery and their little throats visibly bobbed.

Such a display of submission tugged at Hiccup's heartstrings, but it did nothing to soften Tracker's tight countenance. "How do you hope to lead by example," he hissed, "if you can't be trusted with your own littermates?"

Oh, boy…

Heaving yet another sigh, Hiccup used his palms to push himself onto his knees. "Let's not go overboard there, Tracker." He patted away the grit from his leather jerkin. "They're still little."

"Good," Tracker barked. He jerked his nose away from the twins and pointed it towards Hiccup. "We still have time to nip this type of behavior in the bud."

"Hey, whoa, now," Hiccup laughed, clapping his hands free of any remaining granules between his fingers. "There are way too many people in the word 'we' there, buddy."

While Hiccup spoke, Pouncer cowered closer and closer to his side. He did not know whether his youngest son intended to shield him from Tracker's scrutiny or seek shelter from it. Regardless, Hiccup ran a hand down the baby-soft scales of his shivering back.

None of us are in real trouble with that huge softie.

Tracker, akin to a human offering an open hand, lowered his snuffling muzzle over Pouncer's bush of kingsblood.

"In case you haven't noticed —" Hiccup took advantage of Tracker's generosity to haul himself onto his 'feet'. His left prosthetic, of course, squeaked its usual complaints as he sought balance without the use of a dragon head. "Thanks," he murmured before finishing his last sentiment, "— they already have two loving parents who are doing an okay-ish job rearing them."

As was typical, Tracker ignored Hiccup's protests and responded only to his gratitude, "Always at your service, Alpha-Consort." He dipped his chin in deference. Then, he rose to his full height — a double-head above Hiccup's brow.

Taller than even Toothless. Wow, how time had flown —

Wait…

"Alpha-Consort?" Hiccup faux-gasped, clutching the worn leather resting against his heart. "On the job for one day, and already with the formalities?"

Flattening his earflaps to the top of his skull, Tracker narrowed his eyes. (And for the briefest of moments, Stoick rode Sleipnir out of Odin's Great Corpse Hall just to glower down at Hiccup one more time.) "It's what all the other guards call you. Speaking of which —"

A scoff puffed out of Hiccup's lips. His attention flitted over Tracker's shoulder to where Cloudjumper sat at the base of the dune and observed the domestic spectacle. "Can you believe this?"

Cloudjumper adjusted his wings. "I hardly believe most things these days, Alpha-Consort," he replied dryly.

"Alpha-Consort, there is an urgent matter —" Tracker began again.

Hiccup's attention returned to the newest member of the Alpha Guard. A dragon he had known since the day he was born. A dragon he had held through fears, tears, and joy. A dragon who should have been above all of this nonsensical propriety.

Crossing his arms, Hiccup shook his head. "And after I carried you in my belly for six months?"

Tracker's eyes rolled. "What part of 'urgent matter' isn't registering?" he huffed.

"And," Hiccup continued, voice laden with drama, "after I labored for forty-eight hours to bring you into this world?"

"You're not listening, are you?"

"Oh, it's forty-eight, now?" Cloudjumper remarked. "Your labor's longer every time you tell this story, Alpha-Consort."

Hiccup snorted.

"Alpha-Consort, I must insist!" Tracker stepped forward, the edge of his claws creeping but a pup's breath from the kingsblood. "Father wants you to join —"

"Oh!" Hiccup gaped. "The Alpha gets to be 'Father'? But, I, who—" His hands, held out in parallel on either side of his stomach, gestured down to his crotch "—pushed you through my loins, is just —"

Tracker stamped his front left paw and roared, "MOMMY!"

"Yes?" Hiccup sing-songed, smile beatific, demeanor nonplussed.

Pouncer, Dart, and Ruffrunner giggled.

"Get on Cloudjumper," Tracker ordered with all the command of a monarch. "Now."

Pursing his lips, Hiccup placed one hand on his hip and wagged the index finger of the other. "Now, now, no need to get snippy with me! I'm still your Alpha-Consort."

Every single one of Tracker's muscles sagged.

Hiccup bit back a small laugh at his eldest son's expense. For the trouble, he reached out to give the rough underside of Tracker's mandible a tiny scratch. The vrrp, vrrp under his nail earned him a closed-eyed, contented purr. At least, after a couple heartbeats of stubbornness.

"You'll always be my baby," Hiccup murmured to the very dragon who made him a mother nearly two decades ago. "No matter what. No matter how old you get. No matter what title your father gives you. So, none of this 'Alpha' nonsense, okay? If you have to be formal in front of your colleagues, 'Mother' works just as well."

Tracker pushed his neck forward, rubbing its smooth, serpentine flesh against Hiccup's. "Yes, Mommy."

"Now." Hiccup withdrew from the baby he once cradled to sleep. "You said Cloudjumper's escorting me to Toothless?"

"Right." Tracker nodded. "I'll take the hatchlings to —"

"Or —" Hiccup interrupted. He cocked his head to the side and peered up at Tracker through his long bangs. "— you could take me."

In an instant, Hiccup was no longer in the presence of an Alpha Guardsman. No, he stood before a little boy on the precipice of his first flight. Oh, an achingly familiar speck of doubt flickered across his too-wide, childlike stare. Although Tracker did not tremble — as he had on that cliff edge so many years ago — he held his body unnaturally still.

"I'm not ready," Tracker said. Smooth. Steady. And, with that, all the years of watching him forge his once-sensitive demeanor into steel came racing back, bringing with them something much older:

The memory of a Viking chief wiping his tears to appear strong in front of his son.

Affectionate fingertips ran down the deep ridges of Tracker's snout. "You are ready. You've trained for years for this, sweetheart," Hiccup murmured.

Tracker shook his head out of his touch. "Your safety is way too important to trust to me on my own. At least, for now." With a near whisper, he added, "I need more time."

"Listen to me." Hiccup cupped Tracker's chops between gentle hands. "I have never been in danger with you. Not once. If I trust anyone to protect me, it's you."

"And what about father?" Tracker challenged — that insecure fiend.

"Eh." Hiccup shrugged. "Your dad gets me into just as many scrapes as he gets me out of." He rubbed the sides of his baby boy's muzzle before releasing him at last. "Besides —" He strode around his youngest children (and the bush of kingsblood) to reach Tracker's flank. In a single, graceful hop, he climbed onto his eldest son's back. "—I'm the one who protects him."

Hiccup twisted at the waist to glance back at Cloudjumper. Once their gazes met, he inclined his brow toward Dart, Pouncer, and Ruffrunner.

Cloudjumper's smile deepened ever so slightly. "Alright," he laughed. "Come here, you little bastards."

The "little bastards" in question giggled as they galloped to their 'Grandpa' Cloudjumper.

Hiccup chuckled and shook his head. Only Cloudjumper could make "little bastards" sound like the softest term of endearment.

Back straightened, Hiccup patted the side of Tracker's shoulder.

And they took to the air.

An earthquake had rocked the blocked exit of The Hidden World.

While Tracker recounted the event, Hiccup's eye inspected the grottoes rushing below them. By the gods' good grace, he spotted no signs of damage or disarray.

Great, unbroken ribbons of luminescent mycota still wrapped around gargantuan stalagmite pillars in hues of purples, greens, and pinks. Massive, roaring waterfalls continued to feed shimmering pools, rivers, and lakes with the same rushing flow as memory dictated. And each of the grand nurseries, filled with row upon row of incandescent dragon eggs, remained undisturbed on their rocky outcrops.

No cracks over crystal. No fissures into stone. Nothing of note.

Nothing at all.

The majority of Hiccup's people appeared safe and well.

An isolated incident, then.

Still… too bad about the kid.

A group of adolescent Deadly Nadders had reported the quake. Earlier that day, they each dared one another to fly a lap around The Deep Dark — in defiance of their Alpha-Consort. Hiccup had long since disapproved of the hazing practice, but it had become such an integral rite of passage that most looked the other way. After all, normally, the worst injury to come out of stepping claw into that dank place was a bruised ego.

Not this time.

The rattling had loosened a colossal sheet of rock from the cavern's ceiling. As it descended, it crumbled into smaller, but no less treacherous, chunks. One of which clipped a youngster's wing, sending them tumbling to the surface.

Immobilized by their injury, the young Nadder had the misfortune of being trapped in near total blackness until help arrived hours later.

Pained. Alone. Frightened.

Hiccup's stomach swooped in empathy.

Once Tracker flew through the enormous crystal archway leading into The Deep Dark, warm, humid air gave way to chilly gusts of wet wind. Hiccup shuddered, and the end of his left leg throbbed. He rubbed the space below his left knee, above the start of his prosthetic.

"Are you alright, Mother?" Tracker asked.

"Yeah, I just —"

Tracker did not let him finish. The ridges along his head and spine began to emanate a vibrant blue, casting a narrow shine over their surroundings.

If solely for Hiccup's benefit. He knew Tracker could navigate just as well with sound as he did with sight.

"Not sure when you'll start believing me when I say I trust you, sweetheart."

Tracker flapped his wings. "I-I know you trust me." Much more quietly, he added, "I just… know it can't be easy not being able to see, especially in a place like this."

Yes, every surface of The Deep Dark seemed to drip foreboding, didn't it? Like a cloud of miasma had rolled through its empty spaces, leaving a strange condensation of unease in its wake.

Hiccup never found an adequate explanation for it. Aside from some rogue rocks bent on punishing wayward youth, The Deep Dark was neither a particularly dangerous nor inhospitable cavern. In fact, before "The Great Closing", it had teemed with just as much life as any other chamber of The Hidden World.

Now, all signs of that previous vibrancy seemed to end at its entrance. And, in turn, nothing permeated from its mouth.

Not a smell.

Not a sound.

Not a even a single twinkle of light.

So hungry was the cavern's void, it almost swallowed a set of blazes flickering a short distance beneath his boot. No, not blazes; a Monstrous Nightmare wrapped in their dragonfire! One, two, three more beats of Tracker's wings, and they circled above a familiar group of dragons.

Stormfly, Luminara, Meatlug, and Barf and Belch stood in the glow of Hookfang's combustion.

Hiccup's brow furrowed. Where was —?

Ah! There! Toothless sat in the shadows some paces apart from his council. Likely, he wanted to allow his consort's escort enough space to land in his immediate vicinity.

Oh, that sentimental old fool!

A grin stretched across Hiccup's mouth. No matter how many years past between them, Toothless still followed a strict code of conduct for mates that Hiccup did not quite understand.

A wing flap later, Tracker's soft paws touched down with little more than muffled plods. In turn, Hiccup's prosthetic only made the slightest squeak on impact after he dismounted in one smooth, athletic movement.

The Deep Dark consumed each sound.

Odd. Hiccup expected its emptiness to carry every little noise — no matter how gentle.

Before Hiccup could regain his bearings, Toothless rubbed his large, wet nose along the underside of his chin. Ach! This version of a 'kiss to the jaw' nearly toppled them both over!

As always.

"My love," Toothless purred. He moved his vibrating nuzzles down to Hiccup's chest, jarring his ribcage. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

Hiccup laughed, pushing the sides of his giant, enthusiastic head back. "Didn't really have much of a choice there, bud." Left hand still on his mate's jaw, he trailed the fingers of his right up Toothless' rugged snout, over the nobs of one brow, and down the other side of his chin. "Your son practically wrestled me here."

"Is that so?" Toothless replied. He turned his attention to Tracker. "I thought you 'weren't ready' for your first escort mission?"

Tracker glanced in the direction of the dragon council and adjusted his shoulders. "Mother was, uh, quite persuasive."

Reared back, nose wrinkled, Toothless gaped. "'Mother'?"

The rest of the council exchanged head-tilted looks.

A snicker blew out of Hiccup's nose. He spun on his heel to both face his son and drape an arm around his mate's broad shoulders. "Yeah, we already went through this," he said, gesturing to the boy. "Talked him down from calling me, 'Alpha-Consort."

Toothless snapped his head to Hiccup. "'Alpha-Consort'? Eugh!" He chewed on nothing as if a bad taste had landed on his tongue. "And after you labored with him for twenty-four hours?"

Hiccup exaggerated a pout and nodded.

Tracker dropped his earflaps. "It's forty-eight now," he deadpanned.

"Oh," Toothless gasped. He glanced between his child and his mate. "I'm so sorry, my love. How horrible that must have been for you."

Hiccup slapped the back of his hand to his forehead, arched his back, and sighed as dramatically as any skáld worth their coin. "Ah, the pains I endure for my family. And still, I ask not for gratitude."

The dragon council snickered.

"This is how coups start, y'know," Tracker hissed under his breath.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Mom?"

Tracker turned toward the sound.

Accompanied by Toothless, Hiccup stepped out from behind Tracker’s swinging rump and ambled to his side. He squinted in the direction of his title. Mm, yes, it took a breath, but eventually he could make out motion between great swathes of endless gloom.

The glint of Starling's forest eyes emerged from the shadows. A beat later, tendrils of Hookfang's flames began to paint her lovely face, elegant neck, and narrow chest in shades of orange and gold. It caused her scales to shimmer the most interesting shade of auburn until she galloped further into the light. There, on long, sinuous, carmine-black legs, she rolled to a smooth stop in front of her mother.

Hiccup's heart warmed.

If Tracker was Stoick's grandson, then Starling was certainly Valka's granddaughter.

"Ah, here's a child who actually loves me," Hiccup joked.

But the humor of his teasing died the moment he registered Starling's pupil-blown, tight-lipped expression.

"Oh! Thor have mercy," Hiccup muttered. His hands reached out to pet the frills on either side of Starling's pretty visage. "How bad was the damage?"

"Damage?" Starling cocked her head. "What —?" Suddenly, she pulled her muzzle out of Hiccup's hold and whipped it toward Tracker. "What did you tell him?"

Multiple pairs of eyes snapped to where the new guardsman hunched in on himself.

"I- may not have told Mother the whole truth," Tracker mumbled, eyes darting from stare to stare. "Didn't think it was worth getting his hopes up yet."

Stormfly stomp-stomp-stomp-ed to Tracker's behind and swatted it with her tail. As he yelped, she squawked, "How many times do we have to tell you? Your mother is not a child, you incredible —"

"—Thank you, Stormfly." Hiccup rubbed his hands and released a single breath through his mouth. "Alright, what do we have then?"

Chapter Text

They had found writing.

Hiccup swept Inferno's burning blade over a long series of runes carved into the cavern wall.

Giant.

Jagged.

Human runes.

With his fingertip, Hiccup traced their last line. Gods, they were cut so deep, he could slip his first knuckle… all the way… inside…

"Do you see what I mean?" Starling whispered beside him. "It almost looks like Futhark. Or, Futhorc. But, also, not. I figured maybe you —"

"It's older than that. At least, to this region," Hiccup murmured without conscious thought. He worried his bottom lip and tapped his finger next to the inscription. "It's called Ogham, I think. The people who used to use this alphabet traded with Berk from time to time. Er, well, when they weren't at war with the other Viking clans—"

"—War?" Starling interjected; Hiccup steeled his features from tightening into a wince. "But weren't they also human?"

Glancing at the shadows dancing over Starling's upturned brow, Hiccup croaked, "Humans didn't just fight dragons, darling. See, we aren't like you. We don't see two arms and two legs and immediately think their owner is part of an 'us'. More often than not, we think of their owner as part of a 'them'."

And it's easy to fight a 'them'.

"Ah, interesting."

Yes, the resident human expert among dragons would find that interesting, wouldn't she? Starling eagerly soaked up any knowledge that pertained to the other half of her identity — possibly too eagerly. Hiccup had to keep their exchanges on the subject of human culture as shallow as possible, sticking to food, shelter, ritual, and language. Otherwise…

Would Starling obsess over the foreigners Hiccup had encountered? Who tossed and turned and shouted in the middle of the night? Who carried haunted eyes from port to port? Who fled burned fields? Salted earth? Broken families?

Starling did not need to ruminate on how dragon raiding — and, later, dragon defending — was a kinder life than what most of those other people led.

Not like her mother had.

"Mom?"

Hiccup blinked and cleared his throat. "Yeah, so, anyway, I — um, saw some of these runes decorating the stuff they would sell to Berk. But they hadn't used Ogham as an actual writing system for, like, centuries by then. Which is all to say, I have absolutely no idea what any of this means."

And that mystery unsettled him. Much like it unsettled him every time he found a stray utensil in the middle of a Mycobloom forest. Or chair in a small alcove. Or a piece of clothing tattered along a boulder.

This, however, was something much bigger. This was definitive proof. Those random objects had not been dropped into the Hidden World by other dragons.

Humans had lived here once.

"Still, even if we can't translate it," Starling began, soft and gentle. "It does mean that —"

The side of Hiccup's fist thumped against the wall. "I knew it," he huffed.

That confirmation did not lighten his chest as much as he had expected it to.

Starling's moist nostrils ran along the corner of Hiccup's jaw, puffing hot, fish-scented breath against the start of his neck; a once-comforting sensation, it now compounded the ache in his sternum. "Yes, you did." she said. "You were so right, Mom."

A lump settled in Hiccup's throat. He swallowed it back. "I usually am."

Without another word, Hiccup used Inferno to guide himself around Starling and down the wall. Tip-creak, tip-creak, he took one tentative step after another …after another…

"Mom?" Starling called out. "Where are you going?"

Hiccup did not have the wherewithal to respond, mind occupied by the unmarred stone extending beyond his light and into an endless oblivion. Somewhere, out there, hidden in that lightless plane of eternity, there must be another set of etched words.

A set of etched words that he might actually understand. A set of etched words that could help bridge the gap between dragons and humans once and for all.

Behind him, Starling called out to her brother; Hiccup almost clicked his tongue at her. Tracker, along with the other members of the council, were busy inspecting the fallen rock sheet's shattered remains — a much more important task than escorting his silly mother around. But even as mild irritation bubbled in Hiccup's belly, he could not pull his eyes away from the tiniest possibility of hope.

Distantly, Hiccup registered familiar clacks of claws on stone following him. If their owner (or owners) wanted to nose about his heels on a fool's errand, who was he to stop them?

Tip-creak.

Further and further, Hiccup went.

Tip-creak.

He could have proceeded for minutes or hours.

Tip-creak.

In the dark, time quickly — slowly? — lost all meaning.

Fitting, considering…

A snort escaped Hiccup’s nose as his 'feet' continued to trail after an ellipse of burnt orange across untouched limestone.

"What's so funny, mom?" Starling asked.

Hiccup shrugged his shoulder. "Eh, nothing really. Thinking about how we were just talking about the people who used Ogham earlier, and now it kind of feels like I'm wandering around in one of their fairy stories."

"What kind of people tell spooky stories like this to their hatchlings?" Toothless asked somewhere behind Starling — well, assuming Hiccup's ear could be trusted.

"Not fairytales, bud," Hiccup chuckled. "Fairy stories. See, they believed in these immortal—"

"—Stories, tales," Toothless muttered. "I don't know, all of it still seems pretty spooky to me."

Tracker snickered.

Hiccup lifted his chin, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

"Dad, please," Starling hissed. "Go on, Mom. Tell us about them."

"As I was saying," Hiccup continued, voice firm. "They liked to tell tales about these creatures that would kidnap mortals and pull them into their realm. These mortals would then wander around for years and years until they returned to the mortal plane, unchanged after several centuries."

Tracker grunted. A few murmurs of agreement echoed behind him.

"Yeah, it does feel like that, doesn't it?" Starling said.

Tip-creak.

Tip-creak.

Tip-creak.

And still, Hiccup found no other sign of human hands. Until…

… several paces from Inferno's blade, a black rectangular shape appeared against the cavern wall. Three heads taller than Hiccup and no wider than Toothless' furled wings, it looked like a …

…doorway.

A manmade doorway.

Hiccup's grip on Inferno faltered, his sword a sudden, heavy weight in his hand.

Gods preserve us all.

Once, twice, Hiccup exhaled through puffed lips. He shook his head and readjusted his hold on his weapon.

Get it together, Haddock.

But the closer he came to that odd inlet, the more it perturbed him. Although Inferno's light should have penetrated its interior several paces ago, it refused to venture any further than its border. Stranger still, he could not make out any bulges along its edges, notches cut into its corners, or sides at a tilt. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

A cold weight settled in Hiccup's stomach as his faltering steps, one by one, brought him to the doorway's threshold. He struggled to keep his gaze fixed to its void; nevertheless, he could not judge what lay within its confines from sight alone.

Hiccup needed to go inside.

"What in damnation are you doing?" Tracker screeched.

It was at that point Hiccup realized he had already pushed Inferno beyond the doorway's boundary. When —?

Tossing his head over his pauldron, Hiccup took note of his council's tense shoulders and owlish stares.

"I-I'm —" Hiccup's voice cracked. "—going in."

The explanation sounded lame even to his own ears.

A growl rumbled out of Tracker's chest. In a sudden rush, he lunged forward. His teeth latched onto the back of Hiccup's tunic. Then, using far more force than necessary, he yanked him away from the door.

Released a moment too early, Hiccup had to spread his arms out to keep from stumbling backward. And in the aftermath, he dropped Inferno, plunging them all into darkness.

A cacophonous series of "whoa"'s and cries of their names rang out.

Just as before, The Deep Dark swallowed them all.

A funny little thought popped into Hiccup's head: he hated how all that raucous should have reverberated throughout the cave — and didn't.

Gods, how he wished it would echo! Just a little bit. Just enough to prove he still existed within the laws that governed Midgard.

"Tracker!" Toothless thundered beside Hiccup. "Stand down, boy!"

Hiccup cursed to himself and — heart pounding, lungs heaving — crouched on his knees. His fingers groped blindly for Inferno's hilt. Damn it all! He needed to see what was happening!

Before someone left The Deep Dark missing some of their flesh.

Something swished behind him.

"See?" Tracker hissed. "This is why I didn't want you to tell mom!"

Hiccup's left hand tap, tap, tap-ed on the cold ground in a half circle. Nothing. Where could it possibly —?

He sucked in his bottom lip.

"Wait! You're yelling at me?" Starling barked. "You're the one whose gone insane!"

"Me? Insane? Because I don't want my mother gallivanting in dangerous places? An earthquake just —"

Something scraped next to Hiccup's knee. "—And you think I do?"

Hiccup's thumb collided with a cold, hard object. For a split-moment, he hesitated as another funny little thought bore itself between his ears: what if the thing he touched was not Inferno's hilt?

From somewhere in the recesses of his memory, an oily voice purred, And if it's not, do you really want to find out what it is?

"If I may, I think your mother —" Meatlug attempted to cut in, only for Tracker to shout, "You're the one who insisted we bring him down here for your little scratches!"

"My little —!?My little scratches? It was writing!"

Inhale.

Exhale.

Hiccup trailed his index and middle finger over smooth, familiar metal. Their tips recognized every groove, every line, every crest. Despite that, he could not bring himself to wrap his digits around it.

"You know how he is! Don't you remember th-the-the stupid stair-mate or whatever?"

Wordlessly, Stormfly crowed and Hookfang groused.

Hiccup froze. That question…

Gods…

It knocked the wind out of Hiccup's lungs just as well as any punch to the gut. And worse yet, Tracker said it as though he were not there.

All of them spoke as though he were not there!

How —?

Hiccup grasped Inferno's handle. His palm shook over its pommel, fingers tight around its grip.

How dare they!?

Hiccup shot up —

"Staircase, you idiot," Starling spat. "They're called stair —"

— and Inferno flared back to life over his head.

"Enough!" Hiccup snarled, whirling around on his council.

They all took a half-step back, gazes transfixed on the fire crackling above their Alpha-Consort like a divine beacon.

Hiccup glared at every single one of them. "Enough," he repeated through bared teeth. "I am going in there. Now you can either follow me, or you can stay out here. But not another word about it!"

Everyone shared a single breath.

Scuuuuuff, Tracker's front left paw skidded a single step toward Hiccup. "Mother," he began, tone more appropriate for a spooked horse than for an Alpha-Consort.

Several members of the dragon council turned their heads to gawk at Tracker.

Hiccup's nose wrinkled further. "Especially not from you, Tracker," he said, right heel sliding back. "For the gods' sake, I am not a child! I am your leader. And I know what I'm doing."

"I know that, Mother. I know." Tracker's gaze grew as intense as Inferno's flames. "But, why?"

Shoulders dropping, Hiccup lowered Inferno until it flickered in front of his chest. "What? What do you mean, 'why'?"

"I mean, why do you have to go in there?"

Hiccup tilted his head and blinked. 

After all this time…? Had Tracker not been listening to him after all this time!?

"Be-because, because —!"

A mounting pressure began to build in Hiccup's core. His nostrils flared like those of a Rumblehorn bull in rut. And had he not been surrounded by a veritable enclosure of dragons, he would have paced like one too. But bereft of such a release, he could not help but punch his unoccupied arm up into the air and bellow, "Agh!"

The dragon council backed up another pace.

"Because there might be something in there, Tracker!" Hiccup shouted. "Some answer! Or-or-or, some sign that'll clue us in on how to unite humans and dragons again."

Those last words — a declaration of his greatest hope — finally, finally eased the vice around Hiccup's middle. Oh, so much more subdued, he asked, "I mean, isn't — isn't that worth exploring?"

"No."

Tracker replied with such an unyielding finality that it left Hiccup deprived of something — anything — to say.

Meatlug, mouth set in a fragile frown, waddled up to Tracker's shoulder. "My prince —" she tried again.

A howl — rivaling that of his mother's — erupted out of Tracker. "The dragons are safe down here." Slap, Slap, he stamped his left paw. "You are safe down here." Slap, Slap. "Even if dragons could return to the surface world, there is nothing for any of us up there — including you."

Tracker straightened his spine. His tail rattled behind him. His chest heaved with great, big breaths. Yet his eyes did not smolder.

They dimmed.

Ah…

Yes, Hiccup heard the doubts Tracker did not voice:

Are we not enough for you? Am I not enough for you?

A pit yawned in the middle of Hiccup's stomach.

Oh, his darling boy…

Hiccup yearned to hold Tracker's small body in his arms, to pet his little head, to whisper reassurance in his tiny ear.

But would Tracker believe him? That his desire had nothing to do with some unspoken emptiness his family could not fill?

After what I've done?

Swiiiish, swiiiish, swiiiish. Toothless' tailfins swept along the ground as he stalked closer to his mate. All the while, he trained his thinned pupils on Tracker. It must have taken only a heartbeat to reach Hiccup's side, but their Alpha stretched mere moments into hours by staring down his heir.

Toothless wrapped his tail around Hiccup's ankles, and the corded muscles of his trunk flexed.

An icy chill ran down Hiccup's spine.

Between wet, exposed fangs, Toothless growled, "Are you the Alpha of this nest, Tracker?"

In an instant, Tracker fidgeted on the tips of his toes and averted his sire's intense leer. "No, but —"

Toothless canted on his forelegs, tail coiling tighter. "—then it isn’t your place to question your Alpha-Consort, is it?"

"N-no, sir."

A beat passed.

Two.

Three.

Then, Toothless released a long exhale.

As did Hiccup.

Frame relaxing, eyes dilating, and tail brushing ever so gently across Hiccup's legs, Toothless padded over to his son. Tracker's own posture, too, eased with every gentle plod.

Hiccup smiled. Tracker may have been on the cusp of adulthood, but he was still a child craving the comfort of his parents' presence — the ironic crux of the whole matter.

Toothless rubbed the corner of his chin along Tracker's neck. "Your concern comes from a good place, a noble place, my boy." He withdrew a pace. "But staying in the Hidden World was always a temporary solution. We dragons belong in the sky."

View blocked by the incredible breadth of Toothless' neck and shoulders, Hiccup could no longer see Tracker's head. But knowing his child, he likely kept his focus on the space between his front paws. "Yes, Father."

"Your Alpha-Consort isn't just thinking of himself or our family. He’s thinking about the future of all dragonkind. As you’ll have to when it’s your time to lead." Toothless bowed his head to lift Tracker's chin with his own, confirming Hiccup's assumptions. "As a great leader once taught me: the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"May his eye guide us," everyone venerated in unison — a reflex, for a once famed dragon killer, that still astonished Hiccup.

"That means that a good Alpha must take necessary risks for the good of their people," Toothless continued. "And a good Alpha Guardsman supports their Alpha when they do. Understand?"

"I do," Tracker sighed. "I don't like it. But I do."

Toothless chuckled. "Isn't it a good thing no one asked you to like it?" He pointed his muzzle toward Hiccup. "Alright, mate of mine. I think there're no more objections. You may explore at will."

The corners of Hiccup's lips stretched.

That sentimental old fool…

Hiccup raised Inferno, pivoted on his heel and —

"Whoa! Wait a sec!" Tracker said.

— he paused.

"Tracker," Toothless warned.

"Fine, yes, I agree that Mother should go if he feels the need," Tracker said. "But as his guard, it's my job to go in first and scope out any danger, isn't it?"

Once again, the side of Hiccup's fist smacked against stone. He angled his head to glance at his boy — his sweet, overprotective boy, who barely shrank under his father's snarl. "You're also our immediate heir, Tracker. If there is something dangerous in there, we need you to get out first."

The subject of Tracker's gawking oscillated wildly —back and forth, back and forth — between his mother and father. "How does that —!" He stammered. "How does that make any sense?"

Stormfly screeched, "Tracker!"

"My prince!" Meatlug gasped.

"Oh, come on!" Tracker complained. "By that same logic, none of us should go in there at all!"

"Were you not listening?" Hiccup moaned. "Alpha. Necessary risks. Good of the nest. Any of that ring a bell?"

Tracker clicked his tongue. "Mother, please —"

"Quiet!" Toothless roared.

Everyone jumped several fingers into the air.

Toothless adjusted his wings and tail. "Hiccup will go first," he said, cool, calm, and collected; an ability his mate envied in that moment. "I will follow. Tracker will stand guard behind us. Have I made myself clear?"

Tracker released a harsh breath. Then, another. And another. Until, ultimately, he grumbled, "Yes, Father."

"Good," Toothless muttered. He, once again, swiveled his neck to Hiccup. "Proceed, beloved."

Hiccup nodded.

Chapter Text

Hiccup’s prosthetic squeaked as he came face-to-face with a vacuum.

A strange sort of nausea rolled through him, as if he had stumbled upon a pile of rotted fish or an unattended corpse. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. But it did little to stave off the sourness encroaching on his belly.

Alright, here we go anyway.

Hiccup's hand ran over the entry's (exit's?) top edges.

Not an indentation.

Not a bump.

Not a flaw.

Hiccup’s eyes had not deceived him. The smooth whishhhh that came from skimming its upper perimeter betrayed the same unholy perfection he had observed at a distance.

For good measure, Hiccup pressed the side of his boot against the doorway’s inner corner. It felt like a honed blade attempting to dig into his foot.

What in damnation is this?

How could anyone make something so precise? Dragon or human?

Those questions brought to mind a more familiar one. A question that gave credence to the pity his dragon council expressed each time Hiccup would announce a new finding. A question that sat heavily on his thump-thump-thumping chest during his sleepless nights.

If …whoever left artifacts like this behind, why not leave behind records? Memorials? Art?

Even prisons had art.

"Mother? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Hiccup replied quickly. Too quickly. "You just, uh, brought up a good point about the earthquake. So, I'm checking the integrity of this… of this … um, thing before I go in."

"Good idea," Tracker sighed.

Poor boy, Hiccup could almost hear his tension melt with that very puff of breath.

Hiccup's top teeth worried his bottom lip. He could not keep hesitating and prolonging Tracker's torture — prolonging everyone's torture. They all waited with bated breaths for him to swoop through the doorway. Something he insisted on doing! So, why did he pause now?

The answer did not matter. At the edge of this proverbial precipice, he… just… needed… to… leap.

Hiccup held his breath.

May his eye guide me.

Inferno breached the doorway's brink and…

… nothing happened.

His blade simply illuminated a wall set a handful of paces opposite its tip.

That …was it? A small room? It… no, that could not be it.

Hiccup crossed the threshold. Mm, Inferno's flames fanned against the air current rather than in its direction. An oddity for sure, but not a surprise. Nothing followed the laws of nature in this gods-forsaken place.

Why should he be alarmed now?

(Hiccup disregarded the ache growing above his prosthetic.)

To his right, a narrow wall loomed over Hiccup’s shoulder, extending far beyond Inferno's influence.

To his left —

Oh. No fucking way.

Shortly after his second litter was born, Hiccup made the worst mistake of his life:

He abandoned his children.

Of course, Hiccup had not intended to be out for very long. Just a few minutes. Just long enough to clear his head of the constant, ear-splitting noise, noise, noise.

By then, Tracker and Starling had been old enough to fly. And in his (stupid, selfish, messed-up) mind, that meant they were old enough to look after their younger siblings while he stepped outside to enjoy a bit of morning air.

So, along the grassy knoll above their cave-den, Hiccup walked. And walked. And walked.

For only a few minutes, he thought.

Yet, somehow, Hiccup managed to come upon something he had never seen before.

Something that would haunt him for decades to come.

Hiccup found the ruins of a stone staircase leading to nowhere.

It must have been the last remnant of some manmade structure. Moss-stained and wind-weathered, it appeared ready to crumble apart at the slightest provocation. And yet, Hiccup's all-consuming desire to connect to something human compelled him to scale it anyway.

So, up the time-battered structure, Hiccup climbed. And climbed. And climbed.

For only a few steps, he thought.

Yet, somehow, he ascended high enough to break his right leg when he fell.

(An injury that would have resulted in another missing limb back on Berk.)

Toothless found him a short time later, laying beneath the pileus branches of a Mycobloom tree. As he carefully carried his mate to the Pool of Convalescence, he claimed that Hiccup had been missing for hours. He claimed that their children had been searching all over their territory for him. He claimed that their hatchlings had been left shrieking, starving, and scared.

But that could not have been right. Hiccup had only been gone —

It was at that point Hiccup realized the shade of evening had fallen over them.

Afterwards, Hiccup’s leg required three days of soaking in sacred waters to heal. And in all that time, Tracker would not leave his side.

Not to eat.

Not to play.

Not to sleep.

Gods, Tracker's nightmares afterwards…

They had been as persistent as they were terrifying. As persistent and as terrifying as…

Hiccup continued to come across sets of stairs. They towered in his peripheral from time to time, only to transform into tree branches or rock formations between eye blinks. Eventually, he learned to disregard these phantoms — if only to avoid the scrutiny that followed his claims.

This, however, was impossible to ignore.

Someone — or something — shuffled behind him.

Hiccup's heart battered against his ribcage. His knees wobbled. And every muscle in his body grew taut.

"Toothless?" Hiccup called out, Inferno shaking in his hand.

"Y-yes, my love?"

A rush of air escaped his aching lungs, deflating the stress from his shoulders.

Oh, thank the gods and all the ancestors its you.

Taking a deep breath, Hiccup closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. Eugh! It threatened to either knock him down or demand the half-digested scraps of his last meal.

Send it all to damnation!

Hiccup pressed the heel of his palm to the cold sheen of sweat collecting between his brows.

Steady. Steady.

He dropped his hand and blinked.

Nope.

Stair after limestone stair soared into the dark before him.

Hiccup swallowed. "I'm, uh, seeing this, right?"

"Well, if you're not, at least I'm sharing the delusion with you," Toothless deadpanned. "So, y'know, that's delightful."

"What are you guys —" Tracker started from the entrance to the stairwell. (Gods, it was a stairwell, wasn't it? He had never been inside one before. But based on his — admittedly limited — knowledge of castles, this fit the very description.) "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

A splash of acid burned the back of his throat; Hiccup grimaced. "I'm afraid not, sweetheart," he muttered beneath his breath.

"O-kay, well, Mother, you've had your fun," Tracker said. "It's time to leave. Now."

Toothless growled. Low. Menacing.

"You can not be serious right now, Father," Tracker hissed, returning his father's ferocity.

"And you cannot possibly be this brave while having your face practically on my rump, boy," Toothless spat. "You might have moved out of my den, but you're never too old for a tail whipping."

Hiccup whirled around.

Oh, the scene he encountered was absolutely ridiculous! The confined space forced his rather inquisitive son to drape his face over the start of his father's tail. Furthermore, Toothless twisted to curl his lip at Tracker, but their strange positions — like a pair of Terrible Terrors competing for a basking spot — blunted much of his snarl's threat. Under any other circumstances, Hiccup would have found the image comical.

As it was, however…

"Would you two please stop that!" Hiccup snapped.

"Sorry, Mother," Tracker apologized as Toothless muttered, "Your boy started it."

Hiccup paid them little heed. His attention returned to the embodiment of every hallucination he had suffered through for the past two decades.

Now, he had to wonder: had those been hallucinations?

Or had something distorted his sense of reality?

Although every fiber of his being screamed at him to return to the safety of his nest, to forget about what he saw, to continue a life of ignoring his supposed delusions rather than try to solve them, Hiccup knew it was too late to turn back.

He had to continue forward.

He had to know.

So, up the suffocatingly tight passageway they went.

Tip-creak.

Tip-creak.

Tip-creak.

After a near eternity of climbing, Hiccup barely remembered his first steps onto The Stone Staircase. Tracker made a series of complaints the moment Hiccup planted his heel on its first sickeningly-smooth step — at least, if he recalled correctly. Wait, yes! He must have. Because he was shocked by Toothless agreeing with his son on something.

Regardless, fate still pushed them up this proverbial hill, like Sisyphus and his accursed boulder.

Damned to keep scaling at the behest of our gods.

Hiccup snorted. "This reminds me of a story a merchant once told —"

"— Love-pup," Toothless interrupted, breathless. "The moon in my sky, the fattest mackerel in my barrel, with all the peace and love in my cold, hard, unfeeling Alpha heart, if you tell us one more creepy story, I will drag you back down myself."

Tracker chuckled between gulps of air. "Keep talking, Mother!"

"Ha, ha," Hiccup bit out. "Funny how you two only get along to gang up on —"

Something caught Hiccup's eye.

In the distance, something… twinkled? Winked in and out of existence like a far-off star in the night sky? How —?

"My love?"

Hiccup waved his hand back and made a 'hushing' sound between his teeth. He did not want their prattling to ward away …whatever it was. At the same time, he slowed his aching feet and squinted.

Damnation! Despite the effort, Inferno's competing illumination made it difficult to make out its finer details.

Loathe to do so, Hiccup clicked Inferno's incendiary mechanism off. It snuffed the life out of its blade, but the action did not bathe the corridor in darkness.

No, the object — which was roughly the size and shape of his thumbnail — emanated thin bands of light.

Weak though they were, those rays nonetheless stretched towards them like a guiding hand, beckoning them onward. It was such an antithesis to the all-consuming emptiness they had first entered. As different as night and…

In a single flash, it struck Hiccup. That thing reminded him of … the window out of Stoick's roof …the front hatch of his hut on Dragon's Edge …the door out of his longhouse on Berk.

Hiccup holstered Inferno against his right thigh.

And took off.

"Hiccup?" Toothless cried out.

"It's the sun, bud!" Hiccup exclaimed, his broken voice as wet as his tear-filled eyes. "That's the freakin' sun!"

The Hidden World had opened up! That must have been the earthquake the young Nadders felt!

One. Two.

One. Two.

One. Two.

Hiccup raced as fast as his legs could carry him. He did not care about tripping or falling. Not when the promise of the sun lay ahead of him!

The opening — as beautiful and holy as a Valkyrie on high — grew taller and wider and brighter with every surge forward until…

Until…

After twenty long, long years, Hiccup finally emerged from The Hidden World.

Chapter Text

Hiccup entered a world of pure white light.

The intensity of it blinded his eyes and scorched any part of his exposed skin. Argh! Squeezing his eyelids shut, he gritted his teeth against an onslaught of long-forgotten sensations — ones barely soothed by the cool, briny breeze that swept through his hair and whistled in his ear.

By Sunna's mighty chariot, did The Surface World wish to punish him? Force every second he spent underground to sizzle from his flesh? Or, did it wish to brand him? Reclaim ownership in some way? As if Hiccup were a wayward calf liable to be stolen away?

Again?

Bringing his hand over his furrowed brow, Hiccup blinked away swirling halos and shimmering drifts from his vision. After two, three, four bats of his eyelashes, those images of roving nonsense finally gave way to azure skies dotted with puffy white clouds and a calm sea of endless blue.

Splish-Splash, Splish-Splash.

Hiccup pivoted on his heel. Like a reawakened flower through spring soil, Toothless' torso popped out of the same hatch-like opening he had climbed out of… to…

to…

Oh, gods…

… to leave The Hidden World.

(Hiccup's stomach swooped and his wobbling knees almost faltered. Almost.)

A grimace wrinkled Toothless’ features. Hiccup first assumed it was due to the relentless sun — a conclusion his mate quickly challenged by lifting and shaking his dripping paw.

Huh…

Hiccup stepped back, allowing Toothless enough room to fully ascend onto what appeared to be some… kind of… submerged platform…?

Well, that explained both the swashing against his heel and the sea-salt stinging his nose.

But where were they?

Hiccup spun around and advanced a few steps forward.

Whap-thwap, whap-thwap.

As the familiar sounds of Toothless shaking off met his ear, Hiccup surveyed their surroundings. Yes, from what he could see, they had stepped out onto a leveled rock formation. It spanned the length and width of several crop fields. Although it was…

…circular in nature…

…with massive boulders encompassing… its… borders.

Hiccup's mouth dropped.

This is it, isn't it?

They stood where a caldera once welcomed dragons into The Hidden World!

Of course! It made perfect sense. They had come directly from The Deep Dark, hadn't they? Where else would they emerge but from its ceiling?

Yet…

Somehow, the reality of it defied Hiccup's belief.

It can't be that easy, can it?

Hiccup shivered. Too soon accustomed to the sun’s heat, it no longer seemed to ward away the sea's chill.

If only he had brought his mantle of bear fur…

"Are you alright, Mother?"

Hiccup turned.

Toothless and Tracker examined him from either side of the exit. Despite the gravity of their raking stares, Hiccup's attention fell to their paws. Water slish-sloooooshed between them, as it did across the entire platform. Yet it did not dare spill into The Hidden World.

No, some unseen force repelled it from the flawless crevice they had just scuttled out of.

Like Inferno's light.

(A buzzing started in Hiccup's ear. A buzz-zz-zzing he had to ignore, ignore, ignore no matter how difficult. He could not… let it… in!)

"Hiccup," Toothless gasped, bounding to his mate. "My love —" He sniffed his ears, his cheeks, his forehead. "— spirits, you're so pale."

Whuff, whuff. Humid air warmed Hiccup's palms as he nudged Toothless' nose back. "I'm fine, bud," he chuckled. "I'm fine. You're just not used to seeing me in unfiltered daylight, is all."

Toothless crooned softly, but otherwise said nothing in response. Instead, he craned his head toward Tracker, who mirrored his father's tight lips and drawn brows.

A soft sigh rushed out of Hiccup's nostrils. He opened his mouth to chastise the two most overbearing men in his life, but a tiny glint over Toothless' shoulder robbed him of his words.

What in all the worlds was that?

Hiccup cocked his chin, worried his bottom lip, and drew in his brows. (At which point, both Toothless and Tracker swung around to, presumably, figure out what had saved them from a scolding.)

Against the distant horizon, the glint straddled …something. It had the appearance of tiny brown pebble. But it dipped in and out of sight with the rolling waves, eluding thorough scrutiny.

Rising to his toes and lifting his chin, Hiccup, once again, found himself straining to discern details of an object shining in the distance. And, once again, he came up empty at first glance.

Ah! Except this time, Hiccup had enough light to use his spyglass.

After fishing it out of his back satchel, Hiccup closed his left eye and brought the thin, brass tool to his right. His index fingers adjusted its lenses until the mysterious object — bobbing up and down with the rhythm of the sea— came into focus.

Crystal-clear, heart-pounding focus.

Gods preserve us all…

A longship swayed between small, gentle swells.

And not just any longship! It was a drekaskip bearing a wooden figurehead of a Deadly Nadder’s screeching maw and a sail depicting a … depicting a…

… a red Monstrous Nightmare spiraling around its curled tail!

Hiccup pulled down his spyglass and staggered back.

Berk's crest.

Berk's official crest flapped before them!

"Did you catch anything?" Tracker padded to Hiccup's empty side.

"It's …" Hiccup breathed out, his line of sight never wavering from his hope of returning home. "It's a Hooligan ship."

"What?" Toothless whirled his muzzle around. "Are you sure?"

Tracker made a strange, sort of humming noise. "Wait, a what kind of ship?"

"A-A ship from my …" Hiccup swallowed. "My human tribe."

Toothless lost little love for the Hooligans during his time in The Hidden World. If such a thing were possible, he missed them just as much, if not more, than Hiccup did. However, as he rightly pointed out — much to Tracker's smug satisfaction — it would be unwise to assume their affection remained mutual.

It had been two decades since Berk lost contact with dragonkind; they could not be certain whether the drekaskip’s sailors would welcome their presence or see it as a threat worth eliminating.

So, facing Tracker, Toothless continued, "I'll go get a closer look." To Hiccup, he added, "And we can assess what to do based on what I find. Understood?"

Mother and son nodded their respective agreements.

Toothless returned their gestures of acknowledgement. Then, he spread his wings, crouched on his forelegs, and — in a single, graceful leap — soared upward. Whoosh, he cut through the air like a loosed arrow, streaking halfway to the drekaskip in a handful of short breaths.

Gods, it was a magnificent spectacle. One that Hiccup had not witnessed in far, far too long.

Even so, Hiccup tore his tear-filled gaze from the absolute marvel that was his mate. He could not allow it to distract him from his ultimate goal — no matter how gorgeous he looked unencumbered by the forces that would deny other mortals such fierce elegance.

If he did not act now, it would be too late.

After blinking the wet sheen from his eyes, Hiccup made his way to Tracker's side. Hand between his son's shoulder blades, he lifted his leg in a well-practiced, near-unconscious motion.

Unfortunately, before Hiccup could complete the rest of his mount, Tracker recoiled.

Oh, for the love —!

"Whoa!" Tracker barked. "What're you doing there, mother mine?"

Arms akimbo, Hiccup pursed his lips and released a breath through his flared nostrils. "Tracker, come on. You know how this is going to go." He made another attempt to climb onto his son's back, only to be rebuffed in the exact same manner. "Ugh! We don't have to do this the hard way."

"You're the one being difficult," Tracker growled. "Father will be right back, and —"

"— and," Hiccup interrupted, gesturing in the direction of the drekaskip. “You two will bicker about how to approach it until it leaves!"

Tracker clicked his tongue. “You don’t even know if its friendly enough to approach.”

“Yes, I do, actually.” Hiccup crossed his arms.

Emphasizing each word with a bob of his head, Tracker said, “No, you don't.”

“Yes, I do.” Hiccup raised his clenched jaw. “And we’re going to miss this opportunity—”

“— what opportunity?” Tracker muttered to himself.

“— because you and your father can’t agree on anything even if your lives depended on it.” Hiccup glanced away and tossed his hands into the air. “Unless its about how weak and fragile I am.”

"Spirits spare me!” Water rustled beneath Tracker’s vibrating tail. “You are so dramatic!"

Hiccup gaped at his son.

After all his theatrics!? He had the gall to-to —!?

"Oh, I'm the one being dramatic?" Hiccup rammed the points of his fingers against his sternum. "Me?"

“Yes!" Tracker — hysterically and humorlessly — chuckled. "You! You are being dramatic!"

Hiccup pressed his face into the bowl of his palms.

Unaware or uncaring of his mother’s mounting frustrations, Tracker pressed, "Look, there is no reason we can't just wait for Father to —"

Hiccup threw his hands down. "Tracker," he pleaded, the name a desperate whimper on his lips. "My friends could be on that ship. People I love. People I haven’t seen since before you were born."

Tracker simply frowned and lifted one side of his brow.

For all of damnation!

That gave Hiccup only one more move to play — one he detested the very idea of using. But he did not have the luxury of hesitation. Not while the drekaskip threatened to sail to parts unknown.

Shame could come after his ‘feet’ touched its deck.

Head bowed, fingers clasped in front of his chest, Hiccup insisted, "My mother could be on that ship, Tracker. Please, I don't want to spend another minute without her.”

Eugh! Those words tasted like ash on Hiccup’s tongue. He could almost feel their soot darken some part of his soul.

Gods forgive me…

For a small eternity, Tracker’s expression twisted and turned until, at last, he barked, "Fine!” He rustled his folded wings. “You win! Get on before I change my blasted mind."

“Thank you,” Hiccup said, breathless.

He sprang to his son’s side before hopping onto his back. Of course, his bottom immediately met the vibrations of a growl.

Not that Hiccup expected anything less.

Tracker’s earflaps melded to the top of his head. “But if I get even one whiff of danger, I am taking you straight home,” he hissed. “And I’m gonna block that stupid door with the biggest rock I find.” He whipped his snout around and glared. “You hear me?”

Hiccup snorted. “Loud and clear, buddy,” he replied, swiping his hand down the sharp fins over Tracker’s neck.

And, with that, they flew.

The exhilaration of free flight had, sadly, become a stranger to Hiccup over the years. After all, flying in The Hidden World was much like running in a crowded room; naturally, obstacles impeded speed and a finite space obstructed distance.

It was nothing like…

Like this! Racing against packs of roaming clouds… limited only by his thighs’ ability to hold on…

Gods above! Wind slashed his face! Cold froze his fingertips! And he came roaring back to life!

Shooting through the open heavens, a sense of freedom swelled from Hiccup’s core. He swore he could reach out and touch the edge of eternity if only they flew fast and far enough.

Hiccup whooped for joy. “Isn’t this amazing, buddy?”

For a long breath, Tracker remained silent. Then, the muscles under his flapping wings rippled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but aren’t you worried?”

Worried? What could possibly worry him up here at the start of the world?

“About what, sweetheart?”

“Father?” Tracker replied sharply, as if Hiccup had somehow forgotten his own mate. “Shouldn’t he have circled back by now?”

No.

Not really.

Not if Toothless assumed his mate and child were safe and sound. In which case, it was only natural to stretch his wings out for a bit, wasn’t it? To reacquaint himself with the great beyond? To savor the same font of euphoria Hiccup drank from?

(To enjoy an extended reprieve from their gilded cage?)

Hiccup reached down and stroked the scaled frills on the side of Tracker’s face. “I’m sure everything’s —”

As if in defiance of Hiccup’s optimism, not one, not three, but five masts materialized through a break in the clouds.

Hiccup’s heart lurched. What? What had they chanced upon? A naval battle?

Wait, wait, no. Upon closer inspection, Hiccup realized they all supported the same flag — thank the gods for small mercies!

Nonetheless, it begged the question:

How had he missed five drekaskips!? He should have been able to spot—?

Oh.

How the gods must laugh at his idiocy!

The vessels, all of equal size, cut through the water in a seamless spearhead formation — a pattern that, inadvertently, disguised the size of their armada at a distance. However, stealth was not the svinfylking’s primary objective; strength and speed were.

“I don’t get it,” Hiccup said. His fingers curled into fists against the nape Tracker's neck. “What are they heading towards?”

And why do they want to hit it so hard?

“I take it this isn’t what you expected?”

“No,” Hiccup muttered beneath his breath.

Regardless, by the gods’ good humor, one mystery did solve another. Toothless must have flown beyond the ship line to uncover any hidden reinforcements — just in case.

(Hiccup did not — would not — allow himself to consider any other alternatives.)

“Spirits,” Tracker groaned. “What kind of mess did you rope me into now?”

Hiccup patted the side of Tracker’s thick throat. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Tracker circled high above the Hooligan’s flagship.

Shh-Shhhh. The air current boxed Hiccup’s ears at each and every tight interval. Another discomfort he had forgotten. One he would protect himself against with a hjalmr next time. One he ignored in favor of surveying every keel, every rib, every plank of the drekaskip.

Hiccup saw not one sign of aggression.

No archers aimed arrows from either its port or starboard sides.

No catapult sat locked and loaded on its deck.

No warriors readied their axes or swords for close combat.

Hiccup did however note a handful of seamen following their strange rotation. Frozen from the breast down. Likely dumbfounded by the ‘beast’ he rode.

One individual in particular caught Hiccup’s eye. Straight-backed, tall, and wearing a teal tunic fit for a chieftess, she had an authoritative air about her. The captain, perhaps? Based on the matronly way she styled her long blonde braids, she certainly appeared the correct age for such a position. Late thirties, early…

No.

No way.

Hiccup’s mind reeled! It could not be her, could it? Fortune would never favor him that much!

That spore of denial withered the moment Hiccup’s name rolled off her raspy tongue.

“Hiccup!” the captain screamed, over and over and over again.

Astrid.

His best friend. His confidant. His once-betrothed.

She was but one wing flap away.

“Land,” Hiccup whispered, bones vibrating beneath his skin.

Tracker’s earflaps twitched. “What?”

Suddenly, Hiccup’s flesh became too tight over his limbs. He could not breathe. He could not think. All he could do was cry out, “Land, Tracker! Land! Now!”

A jolt raced down Tracker’s spine. “Alright!”

They dove.

Between one shallow breath and the next, Hiccup and Tracker went from being airborne to — thud-thud-creeeeaaack— rocking a ship by landing near its empty prow.

A few of the sailors made startled noises as they lost their balance.

Not Astrid. Years of dragon riding had taught her to brace her hips and bend her knees in the event of such an impact. So while other feet scrambled, hers were steady.

Yes, even after all these years, Astrid remained a steadfast, unwavering pillar.

Without thought or preamble, Hiccup stumbled off of Tracker. He staggered toward the support he had sorely missed during the great pains of his adult life: the deadly politics of dragons, the loneliness of a royal marriage, the agonies of childbirth.

Every. Lurching. Step. Came. With a. New. Flood of. Tears.

Through the haze of his sea-salt yearning, Hiccup barely recognized Astrid opening her arms and trotting in his direction.

It did not matter; her presence never once burned brighter against his soul. Astrid had become a hallowed flame worthy of worship. All Hiccup had to do was follow the warmth of her radiance and sink to his knees.

They met halfway in a clash of hard limbs and eternal affection. It took not one breath for the foundation of Hiccup’s existence to collapse beneath his feet. He crumpled in Astrid’s embrace and, kneeling within the safety of her body, wept.

Chapter Text

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

Gentle fingers brushed through Hiccup’s thick mop of hair. Again and again, Astrid stroked wave after tousled wave behind his ear. And, with every little caress, his anguished cries lost… a little… bit… more… of their… intensity. 

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

Blessedly, after several pounding heartbeats, Hiccup’s breathing finally, finally, slowed. In… and out. In… and out. He inhaled and exhaled as if he were on the verge of a pleasant dream. 

Soothed out of his wracking sobs, only tiny shivers of pleasure remained. They raced from his scalp, down his neck, and to the very end of his tingling spine. 

Gods, only now did Hiccup realize how much he had missed these sensations. He undoubtedly appreciated being groomed by his family, but a dragon tongue could never be as precise as human digits. 

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

Scritch. 

A purr rumbled from the depths of Hiccup’s— 

Suddenly, something wrenched his warm pillar of support away.  

Thud-thud!  

The world pitched.   

Hiccup nearly toppled forward as Astrid yelped.  

What? 

He blinked. 

Astrid lay sprawled on her back, legs spread around his knees in parody of an intimate pose. Mouth agape, she furrowed her brow at… a shadow looming above Hiccup’s shoulder? 

From above them came a growl as deep as rolling thunder. 

Hiccup bit back a long-suffering groan. 

“Toothless!” Astrid panted. She propped herself up on her elbows. “I wasn’t hurting him!” 

A glance over his pauldron confirmed Hiccup’s suspicions: Tracker — pupils slit, teeth bared, muscles tensed — towered over the pair. 

Given the proximity of his stance, Tracker must have used his wrinkled snout to knock Astrid back! But that begged the question: 

Why!? 

“Tracker!” Hiccup hissed in their language. “That’s enough.” 

Tracker’s nostrils flared. His broad chest heaved. Without taking his eyes off of Astrid, he spat, “Does Father know about this friend of yours?” 

What? What a ridiculous question!

One which Hiccup would not dignify with a response. He rolled his eyes, turned his attention to Astrid, and presented his outstretched hand. “Are you alright?” 

For several long moments, Astrid’s gaze flitted between Hiccup’s offer and the asinine reptile behind him. A hesitation born not out of fear. No, he knew her better than that. Those storm-blues simply calculated every exploitable weakness shared between her potential opponents. 

A shiver ran down his spine. 

“Yes,” Astrid, eventually, replied. She wrapped her fingers around Hiccup’s — much to the relief of his bruising knees. He lifted them both to their feet before letting go… 

( …of his friend! Gods, he had just touched his best friend again!) 

“Sorry about that,” Hiccup chuckled. His quivering hand rubbed the back of his neck. “He can be a little overprotective.” 

Astrid glanced at Tracker once more. “Yeah, I remember,” she murmured. 

Remember. 

Right, Astrid thought… 

Sharp prickles of hot and cold raced over Hiccup’s skull. 

How? 

How could he possibly explain that it was not Toothless who had pushed her? But a child who wore his face? A child that he, himself, brought into this world? How could he possibly explain all of that without alienating himself from Astrid? From the people he so desperately wanted to reunite with? 

I can’t. 

That realization knocked the breath right out of his lungs. But ultimately, Hiccup refused to hide this part of his life — not that he could in any case. If he were to reunite his people with The Surface World, humans would have to accept him as Alpha-Consort. If not… 

Hiccup opened his mouth — 

“That’s not Toothless, Chieftess,” another voice called out. 

— and he nearly fell to his knees again. 

Several paces behind Astrid, a gray, wizened head popped out of a hatch door. Although her once-bright auburn curls had lost their vibrancy, and the lines around her visage had deepened, Hiccup would recognize those wild, sea-green eyes anywhere. 

“Mom,” Hiccup breathed out, her name a soft prayer on his tongue. 

A toothy grin stretched Valka’s mouth — a mouth so much like his own. She climbed out of the cargo hold as well as any person half her age. Not a locked knee, not a gnarled knuckle, not a hesitant step in sight. 

The corner of Hiccup’s lip curved. 

It would be like Valka to remain active and limber well into her golden years, with or without Cloudjumper. 

He’ll be so relieved! 

“Is that her?” Tracker asked beneath his breath.  

Hiccup nodded and, just as quietly, replied, “Yes, that’s her alright.”  

A thrum of energy raced to Hiccup’s fingertips and toes. Tracker would finally meet his grandmother! 

Not that he made the best first impression… 

Astrid turned her chin and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Valka began while approaching the trio with a crouched gait. “This is another Night Fury.” 

Astrid snapped her head forward and gaped. 

Hiccup, for his part, swallowed. 

Here goes nothing… 

Echoing a scene from twenty-six years ago, Hiccup gestured to the aforementioned Night Fury. “Astrid, this is Tracker.” Pivoting to the side, he narrowed his gaze at his son and — through gritted teeth — bit out, “Tracker, Astrid.” 

Rather than snarl, as his father had done more than two decades ago, Tracker sniffed. 

A new swell of embarrassment rolled through Hiccup. 

Thankfully, his son’s horrible manners did not seem to faze either woman in the slightest. “Another Night Fury,” Astrid muttered to herself while Valka continued to side-step, on spirited toes, into their midst. 

Curling one set of digits around Hiccup’s shoulder, Valka slowly, steadily brought her unoccupied fingers to Tracker’s nose. He snuff-snuffed her knuckles, which earned him a small, wet laugh from his grandmother. “I-I can hardly believe it.” 

Another wave of tears welled in Hiccup’s eyes. Tap-tap, he patted the hand keeping him anchored to this moment. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice hoarse. “That makes two of us.”

By the grace of the gods! To think, such a meeting seemed impossible less than a day ago. And now? 

Did Hiccup dare hope for more? 

Raising her bowed shoulders, Valka placed a palm in front of Tracker’s snout. 

Ah! Here comes the moment of truth! 

Hiccup did not need to wait long for Tracker’s verdict. After only a single breath, he nuzzled her hand, accepting Valka into his good graces. 

Both Hiccup and Valka guffawed. 

Unbelievable! The Prince of The Hidden World had accepted human contact! And, thus, had initiated the first glorious step in healing what little relationship remained between man and dragon! 

Tracker stepped back. “It is an honor to meet you, grandmother,” he said, lowering into a deep bow. “May your experienced eye guide me from now on.” 

Ha! Really? After all that? Now Tracker wants to act all polite? 

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow and placed his hands on his hips. “Back to the formalities, huh?” he teased in spite of his brittle voice. 

Levity. This intense moment needed some levity before he broke down. 

Again. 

“It’s only right.” Tracker straightened his back. He sniffed once more. “She is the Alpha-Consort’s mother.” 

Valka’s breath hitched, interrupting their conversation. As her owlish stare darted from Hiccup to Tracker, her fingertips came to rest upon her parted lips. “You’ve —” she choked out. “—learned to speak with them?”

Learned to —? 

Oh! Damnation!

It… gods… it never occurred to him that such a language barrier existed. Sure, Tracker could understand West Norse as well as any Hooligan. But he had no ability to respond to his grandmother — not in a meaningful way.  

Valka’s words to Tracker would forever be a letter in a bottle; received but never acknowledged. 

The sweetness of their reunion grew stale on Hiccup’s tongue. “I — uh,” he started, focus dropping to his shuffling boot. “I guess I owe you an explanation, don’t I?” 

“Yeah, I’ll say,” a rough-yet-feminine voice called out. 

Could it —? 

Well, of course it could! So many unfathomable events had already occurred within the last several minutes. Why not this one? 

Looking up, Hiccup found exactly what he had expected: Ruffnut stood two or three paces behind Astrid. 

She crossed her arms, tapped her foot, and beamed at him — as did the sailors who surrounded her. 

Wait… 

No, not sailors! His… 

His friends! 

Yes, between crows feet, laugh lines, and streaks of gray hair, it took a moment for Hiccup to identify his dragon riders. But he could never mistake their individual presence for anyone else’s. From Fishleg’s impressive stature, to Snotlout’s stocky build, to Tuffnut’s and Ruffnut’s willowy frames, he knew those features as well as his own face. 

Age had only matured their demeanor. 

Matured… their… 

A sudden, powerful sorrow stormed across his moment of joy. 

Hiccup had missed all of the events that had squared their shoulders and lifted their chins. He had missed weddings and babies. He had missed deaths and funerals. He had missed triumphs and grief. He had missed their entire lives. 

Hiccup had been robbed of the time he should have had with them. 

Thud-Thud-Creaaaaack. 

Suddenly, the ship rocked again and everyone shared a hushed rush of breath. 

Clomp-click. Clomp-click. Clomp-click. 

A set of clawed paws stomped on the ship deck behind Hiccup, sending chunks of ice racing through his veins. 

Hiccup winced. 

One by one, Astrid led a procession deep into the packed bowels of her ship. 

Pit-Pat. Clomp-click. Tip-creak. 

Boots, paws, and mechanical heels pressed groan after groan out of the cargo hold. Such complaints joined a litany of clack-clack-clacks reverberating through the drekaskip’s fortified hull. 

A stark reminder that Hiccup had boarded a vessel built for battle. 

“Hey, where are you guys heading off to in such a hurry anyway?” Hiccup asked, scanning crates of foodstuffs, barrels of drink, and unlit candle sconces lining the walls — all elements of a ship ready to raid. 

Astrid hummed, “Hm?” 

“From the air, it looked like you guys were ready to go to war,” Hiccup chuckled. “Seemed kind of strange, is all.” 

The slope of Astrid’s shoulders collapsed, and an audible exhale whoosh-ed through her nostrils. “Hiccup.” She shook her head. “Where did you think we were going?” 

What? 

Why would he have any clue!? 

Hiccup lifted an eyebrow. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” 

Another sigh rushed from Astrid. “You really can’t guess?” 

The sharpness of Astrid’s tone bristled something sensitive inside of him. Something that had lost its calluses against her casual venom and occasional cruelty. Something that had become accustomed to a certain level of respect and deference — warranted or not. 

A tic worked itself into Hiccup’s jaw. “No, Astrid, I can’t.” 

Hiccup could not see Astrid’s face, but he imagined her eyes rolling at him. Once upon a time, he found that habit adorable. Now, he tempered his instinct to demand her submission. 

Astrid was not a haughty, disrespectful dragon; Hiccup needed to calm down. 

“We…” Astrid began, a bit stilted. “…felt an earthquake two days ago.”  

A jolt struck Hiccup’s sternum. 

Two… two days ago!? How —!? 

How could that be? 

Unless… it wasn't the same earthquake? 

But that made little sense. 

“We hadn’t felt something like that since the day you…” Astrid trailed off for a brief moment. “… left.” 

Another jolt hit Hiccup in the chest. 

Left. 

Well, that’s one way of putting it. 

Not that Hiccup could blame Astrid for softening her words. With Toothless plodding behind them, she must have felt the need to describe Hiccup’s “unexpected departure” as diplomatically as possible. Still, her implication — as slight as it was — rankled him further. 

Hiccup had not left. 

Hiccup had been taken. 

“We thought that, maybe, I don’t know, The Hidden World had reappeared,” Astrid resumed. “So, we sailed as fast as we could…” 

Air stuttered in Hiccup’s throat. “… to come looking for me,” he supplied. 

It all came together. 

They had not ventured out as explorers or raiders. They had voyaged as an armed search party, ready to meet any sort of resistance — whether in the form of flames, fangs, or former friends. 

All in an effort to recover a long-lost hostage. 

No wonder Astrid had been so offended! 

“Hiccup,” Tuffnut’s voice called out, soft, tentative. “We never stopped looking for you.” 

“Not once in twenty years,” Ruffnut confirmed. 

Fishlegs made a small, high-pitched noise in the back of his throat. “As soon as the dragons left, we took a ship a-a-and tried to go after you.” 

“Days, Hiccup!” Snotlout howled. “We were out there for days. And we found nothing but open water!” 

What? 

Hiccup’s brow furrowed. 

The platform… even if it could not be seen from a distance, it would have eventually damaged a vessel… or worse.

Astrid stopped at the threshold of the captain’s quarters — and whirled around on him. 

Hiccup startled back. 

Toothless and Tracker muttered various versions of, “Hey! Whoa! What?” 

Distantly, Hiccup heard the screeeeech of leather heels on shiplap.

Hiccup blinked and… 

Oh… 

Deep shadows highlighted the tightness of Astrid’s countenance. For the first time since they had reunited, Hiccup took note of the bags beneath her sodden eyes, the lines around her wrinkled nose, and the cracks running down her lower lip. 

“Twice a year, Hiccup!” Astrid barked. “We would go out there twice a year to try to find you! At least!” 

Hiccup’s fingers fidgeted at his sides. 

“Did you think we wouldn’t?” Astrid crossed her arms. '“Did it not occur to you at all? Not even a little bit?” 

No. 

No, it had not. 

Hiccup remained silent. 

“Argh!” Astrid spun on her heel and whipped a cord off her neck. “You’re going to tell us everything!” Her hands fumbled with the doorknob. “You’re going to tell us what happened! You’re going to tell us where you went! You’re going to tell us why you can suddenly talk to dragons!” The door’s lock opened with a resounding click. “And, most importantly, you’re going to tell us why you came back after all this time.” 

Twin growls reverberated behind Hiccup; he lifted a hand to stop them. 

An explanation was the least Hiccup could give. Especially after his people had spent years worth of resources to find him. 

And all I’ve done to help them was climb one set of fucking stairs. 

Yes, Hiccup owed them his tale, and he would give it readily. 

Chapter Text

Twenty Years Ago

A salty wind soughed over the bluffs dominating New Berk’s coastline — and Hiccup had never heard a lonelier, more mournful sound.

Several paces away, Toothless regarded the horizon. A blanket of low-lying clouds smothered the setting sun, dissolving it into an array of magnificent colors. Soft pinks. Gentle golds. Delicate violets. Every last one of them spilled across the summer sky in breathtaking fashion.

And Hiccup hated it.

Hated it so damned much.

That beautiful skyscape was nothing if not a taunt of hope, painted by cruel, capricious gods.

Hiccup’s arm tightened around Astrid’s shoulders. Without their support, he too would have melted into a tapestry — one of celebratory yellows, shameful blues, and violent, blood-curdling reds.

So many emotions warred within him: jubilation and regret, gratitude and grief. Yes, the Hooligans had won a great victory against Grimmel and his band of dragon hunters. However, their triumph did not — could not — alter two terrible truths:

The Hidden World was dragonkind’s only haven from evil men. And the Hooligans, despite all of their affectionate intentions, could never join them there.

Toothless swung his head around. His open expression conveyed what Hiccup already knew deep down in the pits of his aching soul: this is it.

Yes.

Gods.

The moment had come.

It was time.

Without his prosthesis — which, in all likelihood, floated out to sea alongside Grimmel’s corpse — Hiccup had to hop out of Astrid’s embrace on one, indelicate foot. Crunch-crunch-crunch, each wet step was a gods-damned death knell. But instead of heralding his demise, it summoned a memory to the forefront of his mind.

A tradeswoman knelt before a Monstrous Nightmare.

As the dragon tilted his head to-and-fro, she kept hers bowed beneath a clasped pair of trembling hands.

Breathless, she chanted in her native tongue: “Pray for us sinners … now and at the hour of our deaths.”

And what of this? The hour of Hiccup’s heart’s death? Would Sjöfn look kindly upon him if he so asked? As the nailed god had looked upon that foreign woman so long ago?

Or would the goddess of companionship be horrified by his actions?

Hiccup stopped at arm’s length from Toothless, who greeted him with a pair of big, beautiful eyes and a melodic croon.

One of the last he would ever hear.

Thor Almighty, Hiccup was not ready for this. Still, heart-clenching, stomach-dropping, he crowned Toothless’ head with one hand and cradled his jaw with the other. “You’re right, bud,” he exhaled, his tone quivering. “It’s time.”

Twilight’s shroud began to fall upon the palisade — as it did upon their friendship.

Toothless cocked his head and made a small sound of agreement.

A curse — fuck! —rang between Hiccup’s ears.

Of course, Hiccup needed to respond with something far more eloquent than that! But what could he say? What would be a worthy set of last words? How should a friendship as monumental as theirs be memorialized?

Simple.

With the truth.

“I was so busy fighting for a world I wanted—” Hiccup gave his best friend a fragile, watery smile. “—I didn’t think about what you needed.”

Hiccup glanced at the Light Fury, who stood a respectful distance from his lamentations. Gods damn her! Even now, with his eyes full of unwelcome malice, he admired her loveliness.

How could Toothless not fall in love with such a charming creature? With her quiet power and sleek grace? Armored by scales the color of sun-drenched snow?

The Light Fury would make Toothless happy…

… so much happier without him.

And Hiccup? Half of his heart would soon be torn from his chest, leaving him bloodied and broken until the end of his days.

Hiccup’s fingertips traced, memorized, worshiped the textured lines that led down to Toothless’ mandible. Holding his precious muzzle, he rubbed his thumbs against its dimpled sides.

“You’ve looked after us long enough,” Hiccup rasped. He bent forward until his nose was an exhale apart from Toothless’. Oh, how he took great comfort in the puffs of fish-tinged breath warming the lower half of his face. “Time to take care of yourselves.”

On leaden, tentative feet, Hiccup turned to one side and bore witness to yet another great tragedy. No tribulation could ever compare to his father’s death. But to watch his riders unbuckle and slide the saddles off their dragons’ backs? To watch them murmur bittersweet farewells into their serpentine hides? To watch his mother bid her closest companion of over twenty years one final goodbye?

That was close. So very, very close.

Almost in unison, everyone looked up to Hiccup for … strength? Support? Comfort? He did not know. All he had for them was a friendly, if forced, expression.

Guided by nothing more than instinct, Hiccup’s hand found the hard plane of Toothless’ temple. He stroked its prominent scales — once, twice — allowing them to vrrp, vrrp along his calloused fingertips.

A sensation as sacred as his pure, undying devotion.

Hiccup glimpsed Toothless. “Go on, bud.” His eyes then swept over the flock that fell under the Alpha’s protection — the flock of dragons Berk would soon lose. “Lead them to The Hidden World.”

A trill recaptured Hiccup’s attention. He peered down at his side, and Toothless blinked up at him.

Oh, bud.

Hiccup’s soul collapsed as Toothless nudged his chest with a playful snout.

Vrrrp. Vrrrp. Hiccup resumed his reverence by sweeping his hand to the top of Toothless’ head and petting it. “You’ll be safe there.” He cupped Toothless’ chin. “Safer than you could ever be with me.”

Like a dog hearing a whistle, Toothless angled his head. A wavering sound warbled out of his mouth.

Hm?

Had —? Had Hiccup misconstrued Toothless somehow? Had his dragon not looked upon the horizon with longing? Or a reluctant sense of duty? Had Hiccup caught Toothless simply reveling in their victory?

Then again, what did it matter if Hiccup had misconstrued Toothless? What did that change exactly?

Nothing.

Any blossom of optimism withered beneath that grim reality: Toothless and his flock needed to disappear into The Hidden World. That was the only way to keep them safe.

Regardless of their desires.

“It’s okay.” Hiccup did not know if his sentiment was directed more at Toothless or himself. Nevertheless, he leaned in and pressed his cheek to the top of his soulmate's warm head.

Oh, so warm. Oh, so safe.

In… and out; they shared one final stuttering breath.

“I love you, too,” Hiccup whispered, voice hoarse, tiny, shattered.

(A dozen other voices — each an iteration of past Hiccups — echoed across time to scream, “No!”

This was a betrayal of his ideals, of his aspirations, of himself. He knew it. Yet he could not stop it.)

Hiccup withdrew just a hair from his best bud. “And I want you to be free,” he said, drowning in Toothless’ hunter-green eyes.

Drowning in the lie of it all.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I—

Hiccup hopped back and shook his head — just in time. Any longer and his cracking resolve would have shattered.

“Our world doesn’t deserve you —” Hiccup tore his gaze from Toothless’ pretty muzzle and fixed it on the field off to their side. Otherwise, if he continued to stare at him…

Argh! The damage to his resolve had already been done! Hiccup could no longer force himself to make their parting so conclusive. (That would be a treachery too far.) So, gods forgive him, his focus returned to Toothless. “ — Yet.”

Toothless tilted his head again.

Oh, no.

Would Hiccup have to fight Toothless on this? Was he strong enough to do —?

Without warning, Toothless pressed the point of his snout between the seam of Hiccup’s legs.

Wha —!?

Toothless tossed his nose back, and Hiccup’s entire world tilted. His bangs whipped his eyes. His arms flailed out. His legs folded back. But it took arcing toward a familiar rump for Hiccup to realize: his best friend had just hurled him into the air!

Wham!

Hiccup’s sternum slammed into the base of Toothless’ spine, knocking a wheeze right out of his lungs. Stunned, he was unable to do more than scrunch his eyes closed, grit his teeth, and hold onto Toothless’ waist!

Much to the stinging of Hiccup’s bruised chest, Toothless whirled in the direction of the sea. Thump-thump-thump, he bounded onward, rattling Hiccup’s brains.

What in the world —!?

Hiccup opened his watering eyes to a receding tide of gobsmacked humans and restless dragons. Against that backdrop, Toothless’ tail fins waved up and down in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, bud?” Hiccup twisted his neck around; Toothless did not meet his owlish stare. “We can’t play around right now! You have a job to do, remember?”

Unless Toothless planned to…

Oh…!

No?

Surely, he did not intend to take Hiccup to The Hidden World with him?

Right?

Toothless made a strange click-curk sound in the back of his throat before leaping into the air!

Cold air whished through Hiccup’s hair. And a screech — faltering with every flap of Toothless’ wings — tore through his lungs.

“What’re you doing, bud?” Hiccup screamed over the popping in his ears. “Put me down!”

Toothless ascended higher and higher, deaf to all pleas. Meanwhile, several calls of Hiccup’s name followed the pair into the sky. And Astrid, arm outstretched, hand waving, raced after them.

A fool’s errand.

“Astrid!” Hiccup shouted, for all the good that did. Suspended between heaven and earth, he was far beyond the grasp of human intervention.

Still, Astrid continued running until the tips of her toes reached the cliff’s edge. “Hiccup!”

Argh! To the deepest pits of damnation! If rescue were to come, it would have to come by wing and claw.

Hiccup gauged the ground; Toothless’ flock appeared rooted to their spots, more interested in staring up at the spectacle than stopping it.

Oddly enough, the Light Fury — who had a vested interest in keeping all of humanity as far from The Hidden World as possible — also stood frozen in place.

Wait.

No.

Not frozen!

The Light Fury swiveled her head! But not at her mate and his pet. Nor at the silly girl shouting at the edge of the world. Nor at the squawking field of humans. Her honks, growing fainter by the heartbeat, seemed directed at the dragons surrounding her.

What was she planning? What was she orchestrating?

Hiccup could now barely discern the finer movements of his fellow Hooligans. But they… appeared to lift their saddles...?

If so, those efforts were, ultimately, in vain.

No longer a captive audience, the flock began to flap their great, imposing wings. Together, they churned the grass into crashing emerald waves, demonstrating a force powerful enough to ward off any attempts at fitting them with their gear.

Then, almost all at once, they rose like a dark, storm-born surge.

Hiccup felt like a sailor clinging to a mast, watching Aegir’s fist rise from the sea and threaten to crash down onto his ship.

So, Hiccup’s rescue would not be found among them?

Probably not.

Even if they meant no harm, not a single dragon zipped to Hiccup’s aid. In fact, some of the flock flew in the opposite direction — toward New Berk!

Why!?

Toothless shifted between his locked knees.

Gods above!

Hiccup braced; the foreign woman — and her phobia of dragons — came to mind again.

“… pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.”

Hiccup hardly ever feared falling while seated correctly on Toothless. But backwards? Chin on his rump? Without a sense of exhilaration blunting his good sense? He could not help but note just how far the sea dropped from his nose.

And Toothless’ erratic behavior certainly did not help stymie his stomach-churning terror.

Gradually, gradually, gradually… the dull roar over Hiccup’s ears subsided into a gentle swiiiish.

Hm, Toothless must have slowed his flight! Had his reason retaken control of his actions?

No, no, of course not. Toothless did not bank to steer in the direction of New Berk. He simply allowed Berk’s faster dragons to glide alongside him.

…including the Light Fury!

Hmm.

Hiccup tightened his grip. He certainly did not trust her motives — not entirely. But if anyone had both the inclination and ability to sway Toothless, it would be her.

The Light Fury was, therefore, Hiccup’s last resort.

“Hey!” Hiccup called out to the Light Fury; she turned her dull, icy leer at him. “Talk to him! Tell him to put me down! He’s not thinking clearly.”

Grief, it seemed, held Toothless’ reins in their firm grasp.

The Light Fury chirped, but…

… not at him? At something on his other side?

Hiccup veered his head and saw…

… nothing other than pinks, and golds, and —

— A tell-tale shimmer rippled only a wing away.

Oh, no, no, no —!

Hiccup’s refrain did little to stop a scarlet Changewing from materializing — horned nose to vine-like tail — out of thin air. It did little to prevent his entire body from becoming paralyzed. And it did little to impede the Changewing’s pupils from dilating into swirling, hypnotic slits.

Son of a —!

By the time Hiccup realized what the Light Fury had enacted, he was doomed to succumb to darkness.

Hiccup awoke to a dull sun glaring down at him.

Wait.

He blinked.

No.

Not a sun.

The sun did not consist of jagged edges that tapered to a sharp point. Nor did the sun glow an eye-numbing cascade of luminous golds that spilled into radiant violets.

Although it —whatever it was—did shine brightly enough to blur his vision with tears.

Very sun-like, indeed.

Hiccup fluttered his eyelashes, but he did not turn away from the triangular prism overhead… hanging upside down… from a stone ceiling. He continued to clear his gaze, to catalogue the object’s irregular, uneven lines and rough, serrated ends. All in an effort to understand why it seemed so familiar.

Too familiar.

The beastial part of Hiccup’s mind reeled. It demanded that he runrunrun, hidehidehide, nownownow.

Heat crept up Hiccup’s neck. His stomach dropped. His muscles tensed.

Yet the mystery surrounding this celestial body compelled him to remain motionless and wonder: where had he seen —?

Oh!

It was a giant, incandescent crystal! Like the ones that grew in… in…

…in The Hidden World.

The word ‘fuck’ now came much more easily to mind.

Hiccup needed to leave! Immediately! Before a wild dragon discovered his presence and chased him away.

With a small grunt, Hiccup attempted to roll onto his side — to no avail.

Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Hiccup’s heart pounded against its cage.

What in the name of—!?

Hiccup thrashed, and thrashed, and thrashed.

But his jerking was for naught.

Hiccup could only move his bare shoulders and hips, rubbing them along something as unnaturally smooth as it was abnormally cold.

What in Thor’s name!? Where are my clothes?

And what weighed down Hiccup’s wrists and ankle? He detected no pressure or pain. So how —?

Swiveling his head, Hiccup peered down the length of his extended arm. His right hand was submerged in… a shimmering pool? He raised his cheek before fanning his fingers and wiggling his right toes; warm water stirred between them.

Hiccup furrowed his brow. How had he not noticed that?

Regardless, nothing appeared to hold Hiccup’s appendages in place! An invisible, incomprehensible force suspended three of Hiccup’s naked limbs on either side of a raised block.

Or a slab of cut stone? Like that of a sacrificial altar?

Impossible! This was The Hidden World! Dragons did not perform ritualistic murder — at least, as far as Hiccup knew.

Although…

What other purpose would this block serve?

Unbidden, Hiccup heard the ear-splitting whinnies of a young horse. He heard the slice of a quick knife through thin flesh, and the splatter of wet organs plopped on snow-covered earth. He heard clacks of flailing hooves on a rust-stained dais. He heard a cry for Odin to bless Berk’s warriors for another year.

(“Pray for us sinners…”)

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Hiccup, eyes screwed closed, dropped his sweat-soaked head. Great gulps of air filled his burning lungs.

No.

Stop.

Breathe, Hiccup! You’ve been in worse places than this. Maybe not in the nude, but… augh!

Hiccup bit his bottom lip. He clenched his submerged hands. Then, unclenched them. Clenched. Unclenched. Clenched…

As his shoulders relaxed, Hiccup inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, once… twice… three times.

Think.

Right, yes, okay.

Hiccup needed to assess his surroundings. He glanced about.

Pure shadow encapsulated T̵h̸e̴ ̵P̸o̶o̶l̶ ̵o̶f̶ ̷C̶o̴n̶v̶a̶l̷e̸s̸c̷e̴n̴c̵e̵.

Huh?

Once again, Hiccup’s brows drew together.

How —?

How did he know its name?

Did he know it?

Or had he imagined it? Mind inventing an answer to this question in the absence of all others?

Probably not.

The name did not feel contrived. It felt intrinsic, inherent— as rooted to the pool as Hiccup was to it.

Ugh! Not now, Haddock! Freak out later!

Hiccup shook his head and gathered his focus.

Bright ripples illuminated the pool’s verdant shore, but a horrid blackness shrouded everything beyond it. Salvation? Danger? Anything could have lurked behind that veil of shadow.

Hiccup had no way of knowing.

Swallowing back a whimper, Hiccup closed his eyes. He thought about shouting for Toothless, but the last time he had been caught in The Hidden World, he had almost caused a deadly stampede.

Ugh! What other choice did he have?

Hiccup opened his eyes — and found he had no need to call out after all. Framed by his shivering thighs, Toothless stalked out of the darkness into a curtain of light.

Splash-slosh. Toothless entered glittering waters one careful paw at a time. He trudged toward Hiccup, his gaze never wavering from his rider.

That lovely, lovely gaze —!

Hang on.

Toothless’ eyes did not sweep over his form in an outward show of concern. Instead, they appeared transfixed by Hiccup’s…

…sex.

Utterly devoid of affection or malice.

Empty.

Except for…

… ribbons of honeycomb and lilac swirling around his slit pupils…?

What in the gods’ names was that?

After crossing his left thigh over his right, Hiccup squinted at Toothless. He traced his neutral expression, his steady gait, his undulating chest, determined to find the origin of his enchantment.

But nothing pointed to a cause.

“Bud?” Hiccup murmured.

Toothless did not pause. Slosh. Slosh. He waded through elbow-deep water without any indication that he had heard his best friend’s cracking voice.

Ice filled Hiccup’s veins.

Deadly intent was certainly not etched in Toothless’ vacant stare. Nevertheless, Hiccup saw —plasma through leather armor, ice on seared flesh — his father’s death refracted across his unyielding fixation.

The price paid for the last time Toothless had been enthralled.

Enthralled… by another dragon!

Hiccup’s hands balled into fists, his teeth bared in a snarl.

Was this what the Light Fury had arranged back on New Berk? If so, to what end? Was taking Toothless not satisfying enough for her? Did she have to take his life, too?

Any goodwill he had towards the Light Fury evaporated in that single damned instant.

That ugly, evil, conniving, self-centered, daughter of a half-troll’s whore!

Splish-splash. Toothless’ forepaws broke through the pool’s iridescent surface — silencing his internal tirade. One paw was slapped beside Hiccup’s right knee. The other paw was wedged between his legs. Thus propped up on the altar, Toothless loomed over the lower half of Hiccup’s body.

Suddenly, Hiccup was fifteen again, restrained by a massive set of claws and facing the dripping fangs of a Night Fury.

But this time, the Night Fury did not roar in his ear.

This time, the Night Fury did something much worse:

Toothless, cocking his head from side to side, examined Hiccup’s slit.

Eugh!

Revulsion curdled in Hiccup’s belly — less from Toothless’ leer and more from its subject. That… awful thing had done nothing but earn his village’s disappointment and tear his relationships apart.

Drowning him in an endless well of shame.

Nonetheless, Toothless had no reason to study his… cunt. Of all the times he had seen it, never once had it fascinated him like this.

Through a lump in his throat, Hiccup murmured, “Please look at me, bud.”

Please don’t see me as just this. Not you, too. That can’t be the last thing that happens to me before I die.

Toothless’ rapt attention shifted to Hiccup’s face.

He —!

A half-hysterical chuckle bubbled out of Hiccup’s lips.

He could hear him! He could hear him!

Spirals of color continued to tumble within Toothless’ irises. Yet a miraculous, incomprehensible warmth softened his gawking. Just as it had when Hiccup broke through Drago’s domination over him.

Could he do it all over again? Defy this thing?

“Hey, bud,” Hiccup rasped as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “You had me worried there for a second.”

Toothless’ facial frills fluttered as he cooed.

Aw, bud.

Hiccup grinned, his insides warming…

… up until the urge to pet Toothless’ adorable, fox-like face reminded him of his inability to do so.

Argh!

“Yeah, I’m stuck,” Hiccup grumbled. He tugged his arms in demonstration. “I can’t see why. Could you take a look?”

Toothless shook his head.

What?

Hiccup lifted an eyebrow. “Any particular reason why? Or do you just enjoy seeing me in peril?”

From one breath to the next, tender paws pressed against Hiccup’s upper thighs.

“Whoa!” Hiccup craned his head, eyes falling to where Toothless’ claws barely scraped his skin. “Do you mind getting off of there?”

Toothless’ claws slowly crooked. They graaaaazed the meat of Hiccup’s thighs.

A reprehensibly pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

This —! This touch was —!

Well, it was not so intimate, was it? No, an unassuming dragon merely held down a sensitive part of Hiccup’s body.

Yet — oh gods! — it felt too much! Too carnal, too forbidden, a contact between them! Because…

Because…

Because of Hiccup’s profane heart and treacherous body!

Many of his darkest, most twisted fantasies began this way. As such, the rough texture of Toothless’ paws sent a torrent of liquid heat to his lower belly — unbeknownst to the naive dragon.

Eugh! Hiccup was so utterly vile for that. But his guilt did not preclude his clit from stirring.

Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore —

Toothless canted closer to Hiccup’s arousal. Humid breath bathed his pelvis, causing his core to begin pounding in time with his heartbeat.

“Toothless!” Hiccup shrieked. “What are you —!? Stop that!”

If only he could wrestle his wrists out of The Pool of Convalescence! If only he could take Toothless’ muzzle into his hands! If only he could guide Toothless away from his parted thighs! Then, maybe, he could stop Toothless from re-enacting the start of his wettest dreams.

Hiccup struggled beneath Toothless’ innocent snuffles. “I’m serious, bud! You really don’t want to smell that.”

Headless of the warning, Toothless sniff-sniffed at his groin. As hot air continued stimulating his intimate flesh, a whine wheezed out of Hiccup’s bobbing throat.

Damn Toothless’ curiosity!

His clit throbbed. His insides thrummed. His thighs strained to clamp shut. All without Toothless’ knowing!

“Toothless! No!” Hiccup admonished, each of his trapped limbs fighting for freedom against its bond. “Bad dragon!”

But objections made no difference.

Toothless continued to scent his wet, winking hole. His nose’s stubborn fervor stoked Hiccup’s desires, turning smoldering, ignorable embers into a raging, uncontrollable inferno. One that almost burned through his shame.

Almost.

It scared Hiccup just how much lust tempted —

The tip of Toothless’ tongue laved his clit.

Hiccup yowled! At first, utter shock muted the pleasure surging up his core. (What was Toothless doing? Where did he get such an idea? Why did he feel the need to —!?) But incredulity could only dull the sensation of his tender lick-lick-licking for so long.

All too soon, a wash of unwanted euphoria pooled between Hiccup’s thighs.

“Toothless!” Hiccup gasped. It took every shred of his dwindling willpower to wriggle in opposition to his dragon’s ministrations. “Toothless, please!”

If you keep doing that, I’ll just want more.

A growl rumbled out of Toothless’ chest. His paws bore down on Hiccup with just enough pressure to keep his legs from jumping.

No! Stop! Plea —!

Liiiiick.

Hiccup cried out!

Lick.

Lick.

Toothless refocused on applying pretty little patterns over Hiccup’s… pussy. Each one more delicious than the last! Aimed exactly where he pulsed and pounded and ached the most!

A realization dawned on him: these were not the actions of a mindless beast, innocent of their doings. These were the actions of a dedicated lover committed to their partner’s oblivion.

Oh! Toothless’ head moved expertly to-and-fro, his breathing in sync with his explorations, so he never once had to stop for air. His eyes, darkened by sensual intent, flickered to his partner every so often to…

…gauge his responses?

Yes! Toothless must have paid special attention to them! Because each time Hiccup twitched or released a high-pitched keen, he repeated the motion until it no longer served to elicit the same reaction.

By all the evil in the mortal world, it did not take long for a climax to start building in his belly.

Hiccup needed to stop this! Before it was too late! If Toothless pushed him off this precipice, he would never want to climb back up again.

“Toothless, bud, please,” Hiccup whimpered. “It’s too much! I’m going to —!”

Wait.

Did —?

Did Toothless even understand the concept of an orgasm?

Did it matter?

All Hiccup had to do was ask him to stop!

Right?

“If you keep — if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum!”

Please don’t make me cum! Please, Toothless!

It would burn him alive.

Toothless pressed the tip of his tongue to his partner’s clit one last time — and Hiccup’s world exploded into a thousand fractures of blinding white light.

A scream erupted from Hiccup’s throat. His core contracted, contracted, contracted, hips bucking wildly with each ripple. And splashes of his pleasure rushed out of his cunt onto Toothless’ awaiting tongue.

Oh!

Wow!

That was —!

He had never —!

What was —!?

After a small eternity of unraveling, Hiccup’s bliss began to subside, and he found the strength to drag deep, ragged breaths into his lungs.

Meanwhile, Toothless purred. Eyes closed, hold loosened, he rubbed the sides of his muzzle on each of Hiccup’s trembling thighs.

Like an overly affectionate cat.

Waves of shame, as hot and sticky as fresh blood, filled Hiccup.

Toothless loved him. Loved him so much. And what was his reward for that adoration? A sick act that Hiccup allowed.

“Toothless,” Hiccup croaked. “I’m —”

A buzzing echoed across the altar. Incessant. Piercing. As terrifying as an oncoming swarm of wasps.

Hiccup gritted his teeth against the horrid sound, only for it to grow louder.

And louder.

And louder.

The drone quickly became a dagger sharp enough to pierce Hiccup’s skull. It burrowed into his mind, scrambling his brains, rendering him unable to think, rendering him unable to breathe.

No! Get! Out!

Suddenly, hundreds of golden lights — tinged by purling waves of amethyst — illuminated The Pool of Convalescence’s shore. Like pairs of glowworms sheltered in tall grasses, they —

Oh…

Those were not lights.

They were —

Luminescent eyes peeled back the darkness, revealing an eclectic horde of dragons who sat on endless fields of grass. Each of them flapped their wings and fluttered their auxiliary appendages as they…

….bore witness to Hiccup’s greatest shame.

His insides shriveled like a snail beneath the summer sun. He no longer feared death; he welcomed it. It would be a fitting end for anyone who claimed to love dragons yet would permit something like this to happen.

Except…

Horror did not twist the expressions that encompassed him. Nor did outrage. Nor did mild disgust or slight judgment.

They appeared to… smile? Open maws curled in a show of happy fangs?

What? Why?

The realization hit Hiccup with all the force of a battering ram; they had not watched the exploitation of their Alpha. They had watched their Alpha claim a consort — securing the future of their flock’s true leadership.

Yes, the mating dance that Toothless and the Light Fury shared mere days ago seemed downright platonic compared to this performance. It might as well have been two toddlers frolicking in a field!

So, it begged the question: why him if not her?

Silly boy, an oozing voice seemed to drip right into his ear, leaking through the buzz-buzz-buzzing all around him. Is it so hard to imagine that your love is reciprocated?

A human voice! Where had it come from? Was someone there?

Side-to-side, up-and-down, Hiccup swiveled his head and found… no one but Toothless at his side.

Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha—!

Between the ongoing pandemonium and his complete bafflement, Hiccup almost missed a familiar sensation on his thigh.

That of playful teeth nipping at vulnerable flesh.

Hiccup gasped at the obvious culprit. In return, Toothless gave him a brief smirk.

“Toothless?”

As if in response, Toothless raised his nose to the ceiling.

A bolt of terror struck Hiccup’s breastbone.

What did Toothless want him to see? What was up there?

Well…

If he wanted answers, Hiccup had to follow Toothless’ line of sight, didn’t he?

Braced, Hiccup shook while he turned his narrowed, reluctant gaze upward.

The crystal had not changed since the last time he had looked at it: its craggy shape remained the same, its dual colors had not transmuted, and its luminosity had not increased or decreased.

Hiccup’s body fell motionless.

But not in relief.

Captivated by something beyond his control, Hiccup was forced to watch two translucent, ribbon-like tendrils — the color of honeycomb and lilac — dance from the center of the crystal.

No!

They floated down toward the altar, as delicate and as beautiful as the first snowflakes of winter.

Hiccup saw through their ruse. Even so, he could not turn his frozen head or close his watering eyes against them. He was just as paralyzed beneath their sway as he had been under the Changewing’s hypnotic stare.

The first tendril touched the center of Hiccup’s left eye.

And every pain melted into euphoria.

Schiiilick. The tip of Toothless’ long, dexterous tongue rolled just right inside of Hiccup.

A howl bellowed past Hiccup’s lips, his spine arching off the altar. As his eyes rolled back, his heel kicked and his toes curled.

Gods above! Each orgasm bled into the next one, and the next one, and the one after that.

How long did Toothless plan to prolong this exquisite torture?

Did Hiccup care?

No.

Not as long as desire still thrummed in his veins.

His back slapping down onto the altar’s surface, Hiccup gulped lungfuls of air. “Good,” he slurred, tongue tacky with the same syrupy decadence that slowed his brains. “So good.”

Amazing, in fact! So amazing (fantastic, wonderful, brilliant), Toothless deserved a reward. Perhaps a good pet on his adorable snout? Hiccup tugged at his hands.

They remained bound by The Pool of Convalescence’s grip.

Oh, right.

Hiccup had — yet again — forgotten the unfortunate nature of his last plight.

Like a petulant toddler, Hiccup whined. All he wanted was to touch his wonderful dragon! A handsome, sexy creature who continued tasting his sensitive core despite the permanent quiver in his belly and the tremor in his legs.

Did that not merit the praise of a loving hand?

Toothless undulated his tongue, quickly dissolving any residual complaints into moans.

“Yes!” Hiccup panted. His thighs writhed beneath Toothless’ strong paws. “Yes! Yes! More, please!”

As if in defiance of Hiccup’s pleas, Toothless withdrew his hot mouth from his consort’s pulsing cunt.

Hiccup glared down at his mate-to-be. A protest brewed in the back of his hoarse throat.

What did Toothless think he was —?

Toothless shifted his forepaws until they bracketed Hiccup’s chest. He, then, moved further up his would-be consort’s body to level their gazes.

Oh, his predator-green eyes were so intense, full of fierce passion and dark promise.

Enough to spirit Hiccup’s breath away.

Toothless lifted one of his back paws onto the altar — and revealed a prize far more worthy of Hiccup’s pussy.

Oh!

Hiccup’s eyes widened. Both his panting mouth and clenching hole drooled. Now, he understood why Toothless had so diligently eaten him out!

His cock was — somehow — both bigger and smaller than Hiccup had imagined. Thick, lengthy, with a bulbous knot resting above a set of meaty balls, it drooped under the pull of its own weight. Yet it did not appear to be an instrument capable of delivering a grievous injury or a humiliating death.

On the contrary, Toothless’ size and heft promised perfect pleasure.

“Please!” Hiccup canted his hips as far as he could. “Please don’t make me wait!”

I’ve waited long enough!

Evidently, so had Toothless.

Upon Hiccup's enthusiastic consent, Toothless immediately lined the head of his cock with his mate-to-be's slippery hole. He pushed forward, forward, forward. However, despite his expression-straining efforts, Toothless barely managed to breach past Hiccup’s labia.

Damnation! The height and width of the altar made their positions awkward. It would have been more convenient if they were …

… two humans.

The forepaw hooking over Hiccup’s shoulder cut that thought short. Toothless began to pull his would-be consort toward his hips, an effort no more monumental than that of a cat batting down a ball of yarn.

Sliiiish. Hiccup’s wrists and ankles cut through The Pool of Convalescence without any resistance. For reasons unknown, its waters had loosened their hold, allowing him to slide down the altar until his knees dangled over its bottom lip.

An astonishing development — that Hiccup had little time to ponder about.

Within the span of a heartbeat, Toothless braced himself and thrust the first handful of his cock into him.

Holy Freyr!

The start of Toothless’ dragonhood carved a space for itself within the clutch of Hiccup’s body, rearranging his guts and forcing air out of his chest. It should have hurt. It had every reason to hurt — but it did not.

Why didn’t it hurt?

Abruptly, all of the buzz-buzz-buzz-buzzing in the cavern ceased.

It… oh, gods.

It disoriented Hiccup.

The deafening silence roaring throughout the chamber offered Hiccup no relief. Instead, it nauseated him.

Had he really become so accustomed to that awful hum? Had its presence really become such a comfort?

Hiccup closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

After another suspended heartbeat, a squeaking, human-like voice announced,“He has accepted the mating.”

Hiccup’s eyes cracked open. He snapped his head to the left, only to find a deluge of unblinking, unseeing reptilian gazes.

“Hiccup has accepted the mating!” another, much deeper voice echoed from across the first.

Hiccup snapped his head to the right. Once again, there were no human mouths present.

So how —?

“Has the blood been spilled yet?”

Snap.

“I-I believe so. Yes! Look!”

Snap.

“It’ll hit the water soon, and we’ll all be free!”

Snap.

No.

No matter where he looked, nothing but honeycomb and lilac followed Hiccup’s searching.

But where —? Who —?

Everything was perfect.

Nothing but Toothless mattered.

So why did Hiccup have to steady his uneven breaths?

“Long live the Alpha Consort!” someone exalted.

Another followed suit, screeching, “Long live the Alpha Consort!

A chorus commenced.

“Long live the Alpha Consort!”

“Long live the Alpha Consort!”

“Long live the Alpha Consort!”

CRASH! CHUUUURN!

Hiccup flinched.

Something exploded overhead…? Nearly drowning out the endless cheering.

Yes, yes, despite the maddening raucous up above —BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! — the ovation somehow continued.

“Long live the Alpha Consort!”

“Long live the Alpha Consort!”

“Long live the —”

“Hiccup?”

Everything stopped.

The dizziness.

The chanting.

The thundering.

Everything.

Hiccup opened his eyes.

Above him, Toothless’ nose whiffed at his own. His lavender-honey tinged gaze, soft and searching, trailed from Hiccup’s sweat-soaked bangs to his trembling chin. “Are you alright?”

That voice…?

So close. So concerned.

Just as Toothless appeared to be.

Hiccup cocked his head, brows knitting together.

Could it… be?

“Toothless?”

A soft sigh puffed out of Toothless’ nostrils. “Good, you’re all there.” The tip of his tongue peeked out of his mouth and drew a thin stripe over Hiccup’s wrinkled forehead. “Don’t worry. I’m here, my morning star. I’m here.”

It was —! It was Toothless’ voice!

How was that possible?

“You’re…” Hiccup gasped. “You’re here.”

Toothless purred. “Yes.” He nuzzled Hiccup’s temple. “Yes. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Huh?

That didn’t make —?

Oh…!

He…

Hiccup bit back a chuckle; Toothless had misunderstood him.

“Everything’s alright.” Toothless rubbed his snout along Hiccup’s cheek. “I’m —”

“—No, Toothless,” Hiccup interrupted his rather obtuse dragon. “I can understand you.”

“Wha—!?” Toothless reared back, jarring his cock and drawing a breathless sound from his consort. His claws clacked against stone as he readjusted his position. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to —! Sorry!”

Hiccup chortled! Struck by the ironic lunacy of this moment!

Over the years, Hiccup had assigned all manner of timbres to Toothless’ imaginary voice. Strong. Assertive. As mythical as Thor. As commanding as Odin.

But not one of his fantasies depicted Toothless sounding so… callow and awkward. Like an inexperienced young man bedding his spouse for the first time.

It made Hiccup fall that much harder for Toothless.

Yet...

A small question soured Hiccup’s newfound affection: how?

How did Hiccup inexplicably develop the ability to understand dragons?

They should talk about it, right? Try to discern where Hiccup had garnered this new skill.

Did it have something to do with the altar? The ribbons of gold-violet-gold churning all around him?

Or did it have something to do with the great crystal brooding above them?

Hiccup wanted—no, needed—answers. Regardless, try as he might, his mouth refused to form any of his questions. They melted on his tongue, giving way to a chuckle he did not truly feel. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “It surprised me, but it felt… good. Weird, but good.”

Toothless briefly glanced away and adjusted his wings. He swallowed. “O-oh, good, so, um, you're not in pain?”

“No,” Hiccup breathed out. “Quite the opposite.”

That's the concerning part.

“Great, because you scared me there for a second,” Toothless replied with a small snicker. “You were kind of freaking out on me.”

Hiccup’s face dropped. Freaking out? Freaking out! Given the rather strange circumstances they were in, he thought himself rather calm.

Thank you very much!

“Yeah, y’know, it’s kind of hard not to when you start hearing creepy chanting out of nowhere,” Hiccup bit out.

“Oh, that.” Toothless tossed his chin over his shoulder. (To survey their audience? To encourage another round of hailing? Discourage it?) “If they start up again, just ignore it.”

Ach! As if it were so easy! Did he not realize —?

Toothless’ attention — suddenly fervent and smoldering — returned to his mate.

All of Hiccup’s thoughts halted. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened. He bit his chapped bottom lip.

“Just focus on me,” Toothless purred, resuming his position as an Alpha who ruled over his domain with unquestionable authority.

Hiccup nodded. “Uh, yeah, oh—”

Toothless rocked forward and stole the words right out of Hiccup’s mouth. No longer the shy, uncertain creature from moments ago, he sank further and further into his mate’s hot channel. Slow. Steady. Sure.

“Ah,” Hiccup moaned, sounds compelled from his mouth by the fullfullfull feeling in the center of his body.

So big.

So deep.

Hiccup would swear he could feel Toothless everywhere — no pleasure point left untouched by his cock.

Or, rather, half of his cock.

“Y-You feel so good,” Toothless panted as he continued impaling Hiccup on his prick. “So tight. So hot. So fucking hot.”

A desperate hum vibrated from Hiccup’s throat. “Come on, come on, come on,” he huffed, hips gyrating with every intonation. His motions sent little sparks of pleasure to his pelvis. But it was not enough. He needed more (more, more, gods please, more). “Just hump me already.”

“Can’t. Can’t. If I —” Toothless whimpered. “I’ll…”

The implication hung like hot smoke in the air.

Oh, wow…

Hiccup’s body had done that. It had reduced his Alpha into a babbling, incoherent mess on the verge of coming undone.

For the first time in his entire life, Hiccup did not resent the mold the gods had given him. Not when Toothless could glean this much pleasure from it.

“Spirits! Stay still,” Toothless pleaded. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. “Please, stay still. Pleasepleaseplease. You’re driving me insane.”

Hiccup froze…

…despite a wickedness growing inside of him, enticing him to contract his lower muscles.

Could Hiccup wreck Toothless just by tightening his pussy? Could he earn a belly full of seed just by teasing his mate?

No, that would be too cruel! Hiccup would never embarrass his Alpha in such a way.

Besides…

We don’t want to end the party early now, do we?

After several gasping breaths shared between them, Toothless eventually bottomed out. He tensed, shoulders straining, forearms trembling, claws scrapping at the altar.

What a tortured dragon patience made of Toothless! And what a tortured consort it made of Hiccup!

Enough was enough.

“Move, Toothless,” Hiccup whined. “I’m alright. Just move.”

So he did.

In and out.

Back and forth.

Tentative at first.

Barely receding before thrusting back in.

Churning faint squelching noises from their union.

A gentle bliss built within Hiccup, as warm and as soft as a hearth fire. He wanted nothing more than to press closer to that source of great comfort. But arms and leg still entangled by The Pool of Convalescence, all he could do was resume rolling his hips against Toothless’.

It took a few stuttering tries — cl...ap, cl—ap, clap, clap, clap — to develop a rhythm. But once they started to meet in flawless sync, magma began to ooze through Hiccup’s veins. No longer a cozy flamelet, his ecstasy quickly grew into a sweeping wildfire. It consumed everything: his niggling questions, his lingering fears, his good sense.

“That’s it, bud,” Hiccup groaned between his teeth. “That’s it, just like that. Just like that. Oh, gods, yes, yes, yes.”

Toothless pumped faster and faster in-and-out of Hiccup. Before too long, the slap-slap-slap of thighs connecting at a bruising tempo, the smack-smack-smack of virile balls bouncing against a spread ass, and the splash-splash-splash of agitated water hitting the altar created quite the obscene cacophony.

“Never — never felt so — felt so good before,” Toothless grunted. “Even — even when I — did this — to myself.”

Hiccup drew a sharp intake of breath. "You did this? To yourself?"

“Had to.” Toothless lowered his muzzle. “Or I — Or I couldn’t think straight. Every moon. Every moon you smelled—! Agh, you smelled… like… like a dragoness in heat. Had to release. Just to function. Around you.”

As if his own recollection conjured the aforementioned scent, Toothless fucked his mate even faster, harder, deeper. He snapped his hips at a dizzying pace, rutting so zealously that Hiccup found it difficult to register his words.

Still, even through a haze of complete bliss, Hiccup caught their meaning: Toothless had desired him.

For a long time.

“Wanted to throw you down,” Toothless continued. “Wanted to make you present for me. Wanted to mate you. Wanted to breed you.”

Breed.

Toothless had wanted to… to…

... to suffuse Hiccup’s fertile womb with hot, potent cum. To encourage that seed to catch and quicken in Hiccup’s belly. To watch Hiccup’s body ripen with new life.

Toothless had wanted to claim his mate in the most thorough way possible — and Hiccup welcomed it.

Instantly, his humble breasts — bouncing in tandem with Toothless’ rammings — were no longer nuisances to ignore. They had acquired a profound new purpose: to swell with milk for his Alpha’s sweet bairns.

Once a revolting idea, Toothless honeyed it into something decadent. Desire tingled from his pebbling tits to his aching clit. The impossibility of it did not matter; reality did not make the fantasy any less intoxicating.

(Oh, Hiccup, that smooth, slippery voice from before whispered. What little imagination you have. I can break you, unmake you, form you into something worthy of your Alpha’s brood. All you have to do is say the word.)

“Yes!” Hiccup keened. “Yes! Yes! Breed me, please. Want it. Want it so bad.”

A small snarl curled Toothless’ lips. “Yeah? You want that?” His thrusts grew frantic, erratic. “Then— hnng —then I-I’ll give it to you. Gonna breed you up. Give you a whole litter. Make you —” Harsh snorts rushed out of his flared nostrils. “Make you the mother of my pups.”

Hiccup became increasingly aware of Toothless’ knot kissing the rim of his entrance. It prodded, teased, stretched his outer walls as it sought permission to make him steward of the Night Fury species.

If only Hiccup would let it in.

“Do it, Toothless!” Hiccup cried out. “Do it. Please. Want you to!”

One, two, three more drives, and Toothless shoved his knot into Hiccup’s inner sanctum, stuffing him to the absolute brim.

Hiccup screamed, spasming pussy drenching his thighs.

Toothless roared, expanding knot locking him in place.

As waves of euphoria drowned out his better judgment, Hiccup shot forward. His arms wrapped around Toothless’ thick neck, and his knees squeezed the Alpha’s broad flanks. Warmth, all the while, spreeeeaaaaad throughout his rippling insides.

Toothless’ spend seemed to have no end, spurting on and on until a small bulge formed under Hiccup’s naval.

Hm.

Was that…?

Was that what early pregnancy looked like?

Eh, Hiccup would never truly know, would he?

A pang of longing did not hit Hiccup’s chest. In fact, in the midst of his intense afterglow, the realization did not seem so sad at all. (If anything, it provided some measure of relief.)

Hiccup sighed, releasing the air trapped between his heart and lungs.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The ghost of Toothless’ labored breaths danced over Hiccup’s neck. At the same time, something dribbled down his collar. But he was far more fascinated by the droplets of cool water rolling down his… wrists!

Hiccup was no longer held captive! He —!

Pain — hot and piercing — exploded over Hiccup’s shoulder. An acrid stench of iron punctured his nostrils. A flood of salt coated the back of his tongue.

What!?

Had…?

Had Toothless… bitten him?

No sooner had that panicked notion crossed his mind than hot, viscous fluid filled his lungs, his nose, his mouth.

Hiccup could not — could not gulp down air! He… he drowned… in …in… his … own…

Blood flowed from Hiccup’s lips, spilling in great globs over his chin and chest.

Dots of pink petals glowed across his vision before darkness set in.