Astrid wasted no time steering Stormfly towards the icy fortress.
She wasn't sure why Hiccup had lingered longer than he'd planned in the nest, but she needed to let him know that things had changed. They were out of time. With Stoick back home on the island, sure to be raising alarm across the village – it was critical that Hiccup make an appearance soon to set his father's mind at ease.
In order to make that happen, her own timing was everything. After all, if Hiccup were to make the trip back with her – or better yet, take advantage of his Night Fury speed and return even faster – she needed to give him as much daylight as possible to make the journey.
As soon as Stormfly touched down in one of the outer tunnels, Astrid slipped off the Nadder's back with a dull thud. Straightening up, she sped off through the labyrinth as quickly as she dared. Though she skidded and slid across the icy terrain, she didn't fall, instead using the added momentum to help herself move faster and faster. Her boots slid across the surface, propelling her along.
Turning proved to be the trickiest part, as she was unable to pivot easily at the forks in the road. Instead, she was forced to skate straight into the ice, using her hands to brace herself and then shove off the wall to correct her course.
Her hands stung from a combination of the cold and the sharp edges against her palms, but she persisted.
The sounds of the resident dragons were much more obvious during the day, and Astrid was momentarily struck by just how thunderous the echoes were growing – there had to be dozens and dozens of them. She tried to use that observation to brace herself before reaching the edge of the tunnels, unsure of just how crowded the sanctuary truly would be.
What she saw took her breath away.
With the raids happening after sundown throughout her life, she'd almost only seen dragons cloaked in the darkness of night. The rare exceptions were the few that were trapped in the arena or those that were slain on Berk's shores, though she'd really paid the latter no mind. She'd had other tasks to worry about in the aftermath of a battle.
As such, she hadn't realized just how bright, colorful and varied the different species could be, and seeing the full spectrum scattered across the nest before her was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was a glittering feast for the eyes, painting the landscape in vivid hues as scales glinted in the sun.
Dragons were undoubtedly wild and mysterious creatures, but in that moment she couldn't deny that there was also something beautiful about the different species.
Still, she wasn't here for any of them and didn't allow her gaze to linger, no matter how tempting it was. The only dragon she sought was as dark as night itself. Bracing a hand above her eyes to shield against the sun, she surveyed the bustling movement of the nest.
Hiccup would likely be observing it all, she assumed. He'd want to know how they lived and what made each species tick, driven by his insatiable curiosity. To do that, he'd have to have a good vantage point that would allow him to see without interfering.
The overlooks were the obvious choice for keeping an eye on things, so Astrid paid special mind in looking for dark shadows against the rocky outcroppings. When she found no such dragon, she was surprised.
If he wasn't watching the dragons…what was he doing? Why had he stayed?
"Hiccup?" She hissed, hoping his overly sensitive hearing would pick up on her voice amongst the chatter.
Stormfly shadowed her as she took her first tentative steps into the active nest. She was grateful for the Nadder's comforting presence, as it seemed to put the wild dragons they passed at ease. Some eyed her with brief curiosity, but each warning squawk from Stormfly kept them at bay.
"Hiccup?" She raised her voice louder, a bit more insistent this time. They didn't have time for her to comb every corner of the sanctuary.
Nothing.
Where is he?
"Hiccup!" She finally yelled, throwing caution to the wind. Though she'd hoped to avoid attracting the attention of the other dragons, it was far better to take the risk than to linger longer than necessary.
Aside from a small green Terror giving her an impressively dark look as it scuttled away, her shout elicited little reaction from the local dragons.
Still no sign of him.
Astrid continued to wander deeper into the nest, eyes tracking over every surface she passed. She scoured the shadows for darker spots, hoping to see a familiar set of green eyes.
At the bottom of a dropoff, she caught sight of a figure. Granted, it wasn't the person she'd hoped to track down, but she was confident it would still help move things along.
"Valka!"
The woman startled, turning towards her voice and drawing her staff against her chest. A giant Stormcutter loomed behind the former chieftess – based on what Hiccup had told her, it was the very dragon that had taken the woman during that fateful raid in their youth – blinking owlishly at the unexpected visitor.
"Astrid," she greeted, puzzlement clear in her expression. She lowered her staff slowly as she asked, "what are you doing here?"
Astrid closed the distance with quick, purposeful strides. "Look," she said bluntly, "I know you only gave me permission to stay here for one night, but we can argue about that later. This is an emergency. I need to speak to Hiccup – right now."
"Speak with…Hiccup?" Asked Valka, brows knitting together in confusion. She shook her head. "I'm afraid you can't."
"It can't wait," insisted Astrid with more force.
Why was the former chieftess standing in her way? An unwelcome thought crossed her mind and she found herself scowling at the elder woman.
"You can't possibly think… Is this about it being day?" Astrid asked, voice darkening with disbelief. How had his mother spent a week with him and missed something this big? "It's not ideal, but he doesn't have to be able to speak for us to have a conversation. His mind doesn't change! He can understand me perfectly well, Night Fury or human–"
"Astrid," interrupted Valka, now looking a bit put out herself. "That's not it. I assure you – I'm well aware of my son's intelligence. I don't mean to imply otherwise. It's…well, it's not day that's the problem. You can't speak to Hiccup simply because, well, he's not here."
That couldn't be right.
Where else could he be? Where else would he even dream of going when he left, save for back home to Berk?
"Not here?" She echoed, feeling numb.
Valka left Cloudjumper's side to put a comforting hand on Astrid's shoulder. "Yes. He left the nest at daybreak yesterday. I'm afraid that you've come all this way for nothing."
Astrid rolled her shoulder, shaking off the unwanted contact. Hiccup's mother or not…the two were barely more than strangers, and she didn't like to let just anyone into her space.
"So you're saying that Hiccup left at dawn yesterday," she said slowly, taking a step back, "and somehow he never made it home."
It was far too much time left unaccounted for, and the more she thought about it the less she liked it.
While Hiccup had a love for exploration and a tendency to get distracted by his findings…he wasn't irresponsible. If he'd taken a detour on his way home, he'd still have kept an eye on the setting sun. He'd have given himself plenty of time to make it to Berk's shores before sundown.
He'd promised he'd return to her.
He'd promised.
Astrid felt alarm bells tolling in her mind. Hiccup had proven to be a man of his word, and for him to break such a commitment to her was a clear cause for concern. Especially after the moment they'd shared–
Would he really…no. It just didn't fit.
"Something must have happened," she murmured to herself, chewing the inside of her lip with worry.
While there hadn't been any harsh weather on Berk, it was still possible that he'd encountered some patches of rough air over the sea on his way home. Could he be injured, lying helpless on some sea stack while he waited for his healing factor to reverse the damage?
What if someone were to come upon a downed Night Fury? Her worry escalated as she considered the possibility – most vikings wouldn't think twice if they found such a prize. For Hiccup, it couldn't end well.
"Hiccup is missing," she turned her attention to Valka, trying to work out a plan. Planning was his thing, not hers, and she felt out of her depth being thrust into the role. "Which means he's probably in some sort of trouble – I'm going to need your help."
Two riders on dragonback could cover a lot more ground, she reasoned. If they each searched a territory near Berk, they stood a better chance of finding him.
Valka cocked her head, seeming far less troubled. If anything, she looked almost pitying. "Missing? Dear…don't you think that's a bit of a leap? It's only been a day, after all."
"A lot can happen in a day."
Hiccup had been cursed in a day. Hiccup had been captured in a day. Hiccup had ended the war in a day.
Valka's next words were a little more pointed. "Have you considered that perhaps he might just need some time to himself? After all, he hasn't had to hide his true nature from anyone this last week. I'd imagine it will be hard to give that up for Berk, just to live amongst dragon killers once more."
A flare of indignant anger shot through Astrid. Regardless of her relation to Hiccup, Valka had only known him for a single week! How dare she make such presumptions about his feelings.
"Excuse me?" Astrid snarled, feeling tension begin to crackle in the air like electricity. She jabbed a finger against Valka's chest, pushing the woman back a few steps with the force of it. "Your son is missing and you have the nerve to make this about your issues with Berk?"
"He's probably just clearing his mind," insisted Valka defensively, bringing her staff up to keep Astrid at bay, "and enjoying his freedom. Dragons often fly to–"
"This isn't about dragons!" Astrid cut her off, shaking her head in anger, "this is about your son. The one you abandoned once already, in case you've forgotten. You've failed him before, are you really going to risk failing him again?"
On instinct, she'd drawn her axe, taking comfort in the familiar weight of it in her hands. Tensions were high and she was itching to take out some of her frustration.
At the sight of the weapon, Cloudjumper whined, trying to nudge Valka under the safety of one of his wings. The former chieftess ignored her companion, standing her ground.
"My history with my family is none of your concern," argued Valka, eyes narrowed as she assessed the young woman before her. "You have no right to judge what you do not understand."
"Just like you've judged all of Berk?" Astrid asked with a scoff.
It was laughable to be lectured on such things from a woman so quick to write off a village she hadn't seen in decades. Valka was nothing more than a hypocrite in Astrid's eyes.
The former chieftess flushed, words seeming to strike a nerve.
"For the record," Astrid continued, steel in her voice, "what happens to Hiccup is my concern – even more than yours, I'd bet."
"Because you care for him?" Valka challenged almost mockingly, raising an eyebrow. She turned her back on Astrid, raising her voice as she moved back to Cloudjumper's side. "So do I. I fail to see how that sets us apart. The big difference is, he and I are blood."
Blood. As if that fact made up for the choices she'd made.
In Astrid's eyes, it didn't.
"Yeah, well, blood isn't family. It isn't love," she argued, steeling herself as she admitted, "and I…I love him."
Valka froze mid-step, seemingly taken aback by the blunt declaration.
Astrid slid her axe back into the holster, clenching and unclenching her fists to dispel the anxious energy. As much as she needed an outlet and wanted to take her anger out…she knew better than to pick a fight in the sanctuary. This was a place of peace, and she knew Hiccup would want her to show restraint – even if she still believed Valka needed to be set straight.
"It took me a while to realize it, but I do. I love him, and I'm starting to think that he might love me," she said, boring her eyes into the back of the woman's armor. Though the words were true, Astrid couldn't fight the small bit of resentment that came from speaking them now.
The words were precious. They were more open and vulnerable than she ever let herself be, and she hated that it was Valka who was there to hear them the first time she spoke them aloud. There was only one person who deserved to witness that confession, and he was nowhere to be found.
Her only consolation was the knowledge that she'd admitted the truth for his sake. She hoped it would be worth it – that Valka's claims to care for her child were true and she'd recognize the significance of what Astrid had just admitted for both herself and for Hiccup.
"I'm not just going to sit back when he could be in real danger," She continued. "Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of entertaining that kind of fantasy. Maybe you've forgotten, but we look out for each other in the tribe. We protect our own."
Even if her feelings weren't returned to the depth that she hoped they were, she'd be just as motivated to help him. Aside from being her dearest friend, he was also tribe. He was one of them.
"Look, I know Hiccup – which honestly, is something you can't really say," she continued, unable to stop the words even if she knew they were a bit cruel. "If he hasn't come home, something's definitely gone wrong."
Astrid turned to Stormfly, who bent low to offer her back to her rider. Once securely settled atop the Nadder's back, Astrid dared another glance at the former chieftess.
Valka was watching her, lips pursed and eyes shining. Her staff was tucked into the crook of her arm, and her posture was stiff and defensive.
"I can't tell you how to live your life. Honestly, I'm not going to waste my breath. But if you want any sort of future with him," warned Astrid, "what you do in this moment matters. He gave you a second chance. If you waste it, that's on you."
"I can't just…leave…"
It was a feeble excuse, but there was a certain broken quality to it. As if the former chieftess understood on some level that Astrid was right, but something was still holding her back.
The ground beneath them began to shake, and Stormfly cried out in alarm. Astrid yelped in alarm, throwing her arms around her dragon's neck to steady herself.
There was a deep rumbling as something enormous rose above them, casting its massive shadow over them all.
"What the Hel is that!?"
The women were quiet as they took off towards Berk, each lost in their own thoughts.
Astrid was still processing the immensity and sheer presence of the Bewilderbeast, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that something like that could even exist. It was larger – and in some ways, more intimidating – than even the Red Death, herself. As Hiccup had told her, there was a weightiness to its gaze that felt ancient, like the creature had been around since the time of the gods.
It had shaken Astrid to the core, making her feel smaller than she'd ever felt in her life. It also brought to mind a chilling question.
If such a creature existed…what else lurked beyond Berk's shores?
Valka had acted with deep respect towards the Bewilderbeast, bowing low as if it were some sort of king. She'd greeted it with reverence, keeping her head low as the massive dragon rumbled back in a deafening timbre.
In a slow, sweeping motion, the giant had nodded its head to Valka. Then, it twisted its neck, pointing towards the holes in the ceiling above.
Astrid hadn't understood what the Bewilderbeast was trying to say, but Valka had. The woman had sputtered, making excuses for why she needed to stay at the nest. When the creature repeated its motions, more insistently this time, she'd wilted.
With another bow of respect, she'd infomed Astrid that she would join her on her quest.
They'd now been flying for a little over an hour, and neither had spoken a word to the other since taking flight. An awkwardness hung in the air, almost stifling in its presence.
They did surveys of the shores of every sea stack and small isle as they went, ruling out possibilities as they did. Astrid wasn't sure if she was more relieved or worried that they hadn't found him, for the possibility that someone else had was far worse than him being stranded.
Eventually, they could see Berk off in the distance.
"...I'm afraid…"
Astrid almost missed the words, having been so caught in her own thoughts. Still, the admission was impossible to ignore.
"Of what?" She asked, though she had her suspicions.
"I…I was a different person, when I was taken…" Valka's breath hitched, "I-I shouldn't be here…I-I can't face him."
"Stoick?"
"Aye. Hiccup was right…I chose to stay away. Stoick won't understand, he couldn't possibly understand. This is a mistake."
"I don't know how many times you need to hear it before you believe it, but Berk has changed," said Astrid with exasperation, keeping her eyes on the approaching island. "Stoick's a lot more open-minded than you're giving him credit for – he's been willing to learn and he's been willing to change."
"The man I knew–"
"It's been twenty years , for Thor's sake!" Astrid snapped, "everyone has changed – including you. Stoick's really stepped up, and you owe him a chance to prove it. I get it. I get that you're afraid. I get that you have reservations. But you said it yourself – you made a choice to abandon your family and your tribe. Those consequences are yours to bear."
Hiccup glared at the bars of his cage, glinting almost tauntingly in the morning sun.
They'd proven to be just a few too many inches close together, making it impossible for him to slip through in the night. He'd really tried – telling himself that even if he dislocated a joint in the process, it was worth the temporary pain to get away. Yet, no matter how much force he applied or how he contorted his body, he wasn't able to shove his way through.
He'd had to bite back a string of curses throughout the process, stemming from both pain and frustration. He'd been hyper aware of the surrounding campsite, full of slumbering poachers. Any loud or unexpected sound could be enough to wake them.
Hiccup had persisted, trying again and again to twist and turn in such a way that he could make the escape work. It was maddening, as there were moments he'd felt a false sense of hope. Then reality would set it when his hips or shoulders would slam against the unyielding metal.
By the time the sun had begun to rise, he was both exhausted and dispirited. That hadn't stopped him from attempting to claw off the muzzle, only to find himself blinded as the tarp was ripped away.
Once more, Viggo's sword had slammed against the bars, letting loose an agonizing thunder that made his brain feel like it was rattling in his skull. It made it hard to focus, like a spike through his mind.
Using loud noises to disorient a dragon was nothing new. It was one of the first things a viking learned in dragon training, as it was a defense mechanism that even the most unskilled could employ with success. Hiccup had once thought it was laughable – that a little bit of noise could have such a big impact on something as intimidating as a dragon.
It wasn't funny now.
Thankfully, his body had fought off the last remnants of the toxin at sundown, so he had his full range of motion and awareness back. He used that freedom to force his ears down, filtering out some of the after-echoes.
He made no move to touch the muzzle again.
As he lay in the cage, Hiccup felt utterly defenseless. Confined within its walls and muzzled, he had no way to defend himself.
Even in the night, he was unarmed.
If I make it through this in one piece, he promised himself, I'm finding a way to work some sort of weapon into the new leg design. Or at least a lockpick.
Focusing on the potential schematic was a way to offer his mind relief from his otherwise churning thoughts. Whenever they creeped in and threatened to consume him, he forced himself to mentally adjust a screw here or a hinge there, mapping out the design in his mind.
A collapsable sword could have its uses.
The hunters milled about the camp, cleaning up the spoils from their celebration. He noticed that they were often out of sync, small arguments breaking out often as personalities and plans clashed. There did not appear to be any sort of camaraderie throughout their ranks, with real respect only being shown towards their unshakable leader.
Hiccup gave in to his exhaustion, napping for small stretches. After an hour or two of fitful sleep, he'd jerk awake, often startled by the harsh reminder of his situation.
After one such nap, Hiccup awoke to the uncanny feeling of being watched.
He lifted his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the sensation. When he spotted a man standing just outside the bars of the cage, he flinched back, startled by the proximity.
A low growl sprang from his throat – the result of some deeper compulsion, rather than his own conscious intent. At that realization, Hiccup cut the sound off abruptly. It wasn't the first time he'd caught those primal, base-level Night Fury instincts creeping into his actions, but it still took him off guard when it happened.
Carefully, and without breaking eye-contact with the man before him, Hiccup rose to his feet. He felt his muscles tense up, trying to take on a more defensive position.
Viggo chucked, amused by his reaction. "So this is the great Night Fury? The so-called 'unholy offspring of lightning and death,' feared throughout the archipelago? I'll be honest, I'd rather expected more…"
Hiccup snorted. Failing to meet the expectations of others was nothing unfamiliar to him – he'd even come to expect it growing up. There was a reason he'd garnered a reputation for being, well…useless.
It just had always been a sentiment applied towards his human self – he'd never before been considered a disappointment as a dragon. He couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised.
He wasn't the ideal viking. He wasn't the ideal dragon.
He was just…Hiccup.
In the midst of his contemplations, he allowed his attention to drift from the poacher. Viggo, however, appeared to have been watching him intently.
"Curious…" He murmured to himself, narrowing his eyes at the Night Fury before him. "I'd almost wager that you understood me, just then. Perhaps…perhaps there's a bit more to you that we're not seeing…some secret we've yet to unlock…"
Viggo's plan had yet to hit a snag.
He'd been confident in his strategy, of course, but there was always a margin for error – there was always room for the unexpected. He firmly believed that one must always be prepared for a surprise – otherwise he was asking to find himself at a disadvantage later. Seeing things run smoothly was always an immensely satisfying moment.
He'd done what so many considered impossible: he'd caged lightning. At least, in a sense.
A Night Fury was a legendary catch, and one that would serve to boost his status and reputation throughout the archipelago. The success would open doors for him to bigger and better ventures, giving him a chance to craft an even greater future if he played his cards right.
Like all ambitious plans, one needed to consider all the moving pieces as it progressed. New information could not be dismissed – allowing oneself to get too confident could lead to one's downfall.
Viggo prided himself in keeping track of each piece of the puzzle, ensuring that no variable was left unexplored.
At the moment, that variable was the Night Fury itself.
The creature had overcome a massive dose of dragonroot in a shockingly short span of time. The dosage had been meant to keep the beast docile and out of sorts for days, and somehow the dragon had slept it off in a single night. It shouldn't be possible.
Then there were its eyes.
Viggo had been face to face with more than his fair share of dragons over the years, and while some showed signs of elevated intelligence…none compared to what he'd seen in the Night Fury's eyes. There was a depth to the creature's gaze, strangely akin to that of a human being. When he spoke, he could see the flicker of understanding in those eyes.
It should be impossible, but something in his gut told him it was true. He'd learned never to dismiss such feelings.
His suspicions grew when the dragon started making a racket about an hour before sundown. It began thrashing in the cage, snarling as loudly as it could through the muzzle and banging against the bars of the cage like it had gone mad.
The men were unsettled, crying out for Viggo to silence the beast.
As he ordered the cage to be covered once more, he could have sworn the dragon relaxed. Almost like it had achieved the outcome it sought.
Odd.
He kept his thoughts to himself, focusing on delegating tasks across the camp. The men were turning in for the night – tired and hungover from the previous night – but Viggo wanted to ensure they'd start the next day off productively. He had no tolerance for laziness in his ranks.
They couldn't risk staying on Berk forever, but there was no sense in sailing pointlessly with no destination. Now that their base had been destroyed, he needed to figure out the best way forward to keep their operation running efficiently.
After assessing a few options on the map, he found his mind circling back to the Night Fury. His feet took him across the darkened campsite, bringing him to the edge of the cage.
Unable to shake the compulsion to check on the beast, he crouched low and gripped a corner of the tarp. He didn't want to agitate the dragon – having it cause a racket when his men were trying to sleep would not help to inspire loyalty – but he was too intrigued to leave it alone.
Viggo kept himself close to the ground, lifting the corner as far as he dared.
The dragon was facing away from him, curled up on itself. Its wings stretched out towards him, sleek and batlike in appearance. If he only reached out, he'd be able to graze his fingers over the onyx scales.
His fingers twitched, but he kept his curiosity in check.
A sudden purple blaze erupted from the creature.
For a moment, Viggo feared it had slipped its muzzle and was releasing a plasma blast, but then the fire consumed the dragon. Only Monstrous Nightmares were known to ignite like that – only they had the capability for such a feat.
This was something different. Something far stranger.
There were very few times in Viggo's life that he could remember feeling truly without words. Seeing the Night Fury somehow swallowed in purple fire ranked high amongst them.
Seeing the pale, thin frame of a young man when those flames receded ranked even higher.
Sorcery.