Hiccup's Point of View
Morning didn't announce itself with blinding light or harsh sound. It arrived slowly—creeping in through the treetops, brushing against the canvas of our shelter with soft gold. The forest stirred quietly, alive with birdsong and the whisper of leaves.
For once, the world didn't demand anything of me.
No battles.
No eyes watching.
No burdens.
Just warmth.
Just her.
Luna lay pressed against me, one leg draped over mine, her hand resting on my chest—fingers curled lightly, claws just grazing skin. Even in sleep, she held on like she never wanted to let go. Her expression was calm, peaceful in a way few ever saw. The queen without her armor. My mate. My equal.
I could've stayed like that for hours. Just breathing her in.
But the moment shattered.
Her eyes snapped open. Sharp. Alert.
"She's not here," Luna said, her voice tight as she sat up suddenly, looking to the empty space beside us. "Where's Freya?"
I moved before the panic could settle in her chest. Caught her wrist, gently. Guided her down. And kissed her.
Firm. Steady. Meant to remind her of what was true—what was safe.
Her breath hitched, but I felt her melt into me, her fight softening.
"She's fine," I whispered against her lips. "She's outside. Playing with my pets, my love."
She blinked at me, confusion giving way to cautious calm.
"Erza and the wolves," I added, smiling faintly. "I made sure they took her far from the cabin. She's safe."
Relief washed through her in a slow exhale, and she tucked herself into the crook of my neck. I held her there, stroking a slow path down her spine.
"She could have said goodbye," she murmured.
"She was too excited," I said. "And I... wanted this morning for us."
Luna shifted, lifting her head with a knowing look.
But before she could speak, I rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath me—wrists gently caught in one hand, body caged beneath mine.
Her breath caught. Eyes lit with wild, wicked glee.
I smirked.
"Yesterday," I said, voice dropping low, dark with amusement, "you were being very naughty."
She licked her lips slowly, pupils dilating.
"Oh?" she purred. "Was I?"
I leaned down until our noses touched.
"And naughty queens," I growled, "deserve to be punished."
She arched, body reacting to the command beneath my tone. But before she could respond, I kissed her—hard, deep, possessive. She groaned into it, her claws tightening against the sheets.
I pulled back, just enough to watch her eyes.
Hungry.
Devoted.
Wild.
"I told you we'd have time," I whispered. "No interruptions."
"You sent her away on purpose," she accused, breathless.
I nodded, dragging my free hand down her side. "With Erza, Fen, Sira, and Onyx. Far enough that she can't hear us. Far enough that you can scream for me if you want to."
Her grin was feral.
I dipped my head, tracing kisses down her jaw until I found that spot—the mark at the base of her neck where I had bitten her. Where I claimed her.
The mark that would never fade.
I kissed it softly, almost reverently.
She shivered violently.
"I'll do my best," I murmured, voice a velvet promise, "to make sure you won't be able to walk properly when I'm done."
Her gasp was sharp, desperate.
Half challenge.
Half surrender.
I claimed her lips again—hungrier this time. Deeper. Her legs wrapped around me with a growl, pulling me closer, inviting the storm she knew was coming.
Outside, the morning sun filtered through the leaves like firelight on gold. But we were lost in shadows and heat.
Berk didn't exist.
The past didn't matter.
Only her.
Only us.
Our time.
Ours alone.
—Time Skip—
"That was fun," I murmured, running my fingers lazily through Luna's snow-white hair as she lay curled against my chest, still flushed and breathless. "But we've got things to do, my love."
She pouted, eyes half-lidded, clearly unwilling to move just yet.
I leaned in, brushing a kiss against her temple. "Don't worry. We no longer need to deal with them as much. I've already done what I needed to."
She blinked up at me, curious.
"I planted fear in their hearts," I said simply, my voice low with satisfaction. "Now we can spend time together—truly together—without those bothersome insects interrupting us. At least for a week, before Stoick returns from his little nest-hunting expedition."
Luna grinned at that, wicked and pleased. "A whole week alone with you..."
But before she could finish, a powerful roar shattered the air outside—loud and guttural, echoing through the forest with authority.
My body stilled.
I knew that roar.
Sliding away from Luna, I stood without hesitation, already shifting. Scales rippled across my skin, bones realigning. Wings burst free from my back, tail uncoiling. My hybrid form welcomed me like a second skin—no, my skin. This wasn't a transformation anymore. It was who I was.
Luna sat up quickly, already pulling on her claws. "A dragon," she muttered, eyes narrowing. "In our territory?"
"I know that roar," I said over my shoulder as I stepped out of our shelter. "Stay close."
The light outside filtered through the trees as I emerged. Freya had just returned from her playtime—her cheeks pink, her hair tousled. But she wasn't alone.
My pack—Erza the bear, Fen, Sira, and Onyx—had encircled her. Defensive stances. Low growls. Protecting their charge.
In the clearing stood a large, battle-scarred Monstrous Nightmare. Fire danced beneath its scales, wings flared, teeth bared.
Then I saw it.
Fang.
Scar over his left eye. Cracked horn. Left foreclaw chipped from our last spar.
Recognition flashed in my gaze—and in his.
Erza let out a grunt and relaxed. Fen's hackles lowered. The wolves stepped back slightly, but stayed protectively close to Freya.
They remembered him.
So did I.
"Fang," I muttered.
He stepped forward slowly, gaze locked on mine. Then—he bowed.
Luna emerged behind me, eyes sharp with danger. "He dares enter our home?"
I raised a hand, calming her. "He's one of mine. I told you about him—part of my old dragon sparring partners. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."
Her expression softened, though her claws stayed ready. "He bowed to you," she said, almost to herself.
I stepped forward and extended my will—reaching into the silent thread of thought and dominance. The bond sparked instantly.
Alpha... his voice echoed in my mind, tinged with awe. "You've changed. You're no longer human. That is... good."
A smirk tugged at my lips. "It's who I've always been," I replied mentally.
But then, Fang's expression shifted. He bowed lower.
"Forgive my intrusion, Alpha. I bring a problem. A serious one."
My smirk vanished.
I narrowed my eyes, voice dropping to a cold edge. "What problem?"
Fang looked up.
And in his glowing eyes, I saw urgency.
And fear.