Luna's Point of View
The air was heavy with tension and the scent of scorched metal, but all I could do was watch him.
My Alpha.
Hiccup stood at the center of the storm, the arena crumbling beneath the weight of his voice, his power. The humans cowered. The dragons bowed. And still... he stood taller.
But something shifted beside me.
Freya had gone still.
I turned my head to look at her. She wasn't scared. No... her little hands clenched the edge of my thigh with shaking excitement. Her emerald eyes shimmered—not with fear, but wonder. Her lips parted, but she didn't speak.
Then, she turned to Fang, who stood guard over us like a burning wall of fury, and tugged lightly on his spiked tail.
"Fang," she said sweetly, her voice soft but clear. "Can you take me and my mamas down to Papa, please?"
Astrid blinked.
Her face paled instantly.
She stumbled slightly and grabbed the back of Fang's leg to steady herself, but stayed upright, her face flushing to a bright shade of red. I could feel the heat from her skin even before she spoke.
"I—I..." she muttered, staring at Freya.
But the girl had already grabbed her hand, swinging it like they were playing in a field and not standing in the middle of a battlefield surrounded by dragonfire and death.
Astrid looked like she was about to faint—again. But to her credit, she stayed upright. Barely.
Claimed.
Our girl had claimed her.
Fang turned his massive head, looking directly at Hiccup.
He didn't need to speak.
And Hiccup—oh, he heard every word.
He gave the faintest nod, just once.
Permission granted.
With great care, Fang lowered his body so that I could lift Freya onto his back, then pulled Astrid up behind her. I followed last, wrapping my arms gently around them both.
"Hold on," I whispered.
With a deep, rumbling snort, Fang unfurled his wings and descended toward the arena, flames flickering across his scales as he landed gracefully in a wide arc beside Hiccup.
The moment we touched down, Freya leapt from his back and flew into her father's arms.
"Papa!"
Hiccup caught her with practiced ease, pulling her close with one arm while the other cradled the back of her head.
She pressed her little mouth to his ear and whispered something.
I watched his shoulders twitch, and then he chuckled—a low, dark sound that rumbled from his chest like a sleeping volcano being stirred.
He glanced over at me, the corner of his lip curling as the bond between us ignited again.
"She really is quite the little dragoness," he said through the link, his tone full of pride and dangerous affection.
I smiled, warmth and possessiveness swelling in my chest.
Then he turned to Veil, who had just landed beside him, her gaze still sharp and waiting.
"Veil," he said with a commanding tone, "whatever Freya tells you to do... do it."
Veil bowed low.
Freya walked up to her with the confidence of a queen.
"That man there," she said, pointing to one of the warriors near the edge of the stands, "he looked at me funny. Just like that other man looked at Mama and my other Mama funny."
Veil's pupils slit instantly, her body trembling with murderous intent.
But my eyes flicked to Hiccup.
His expression changed—darkened. Slowly.
He tilted his head at Freya.
"The other man?" he asked quietly, a hint of cold fury bleeding into his tone.
Freya nodded. "He looked at me like that boy who hurt me before did. And he looked at Mama and Astrid like they were... like they were toys."
Hiccup's claws flexed with a metallic scrape.
He looked up, locking eyes with the second man in question. The poor fool didn't even realize he was marked for death.
"Veil," Hiccup growled, voice deeper now, "take care of the one Freya pointed to."
Veil let out a soft hiss and crept forward.
"But that other one..." Hiccup's eyes burned with something far worse than fire.
"No one," he said softly, "no one looks at my daughter like that and lives."
Hiccup's Point of View
I didn't need to hear Stoick speak to know what he was about to do.
That slight movement of his hand—reaching out as if he could stop what was already in motion—was enough.
I didn't let him finish.
My hand moved faster than thought, a flick of my wrist sending one of my hidden blades hurling through the air.
It embedded itself deep into the stone wall behind his head—just barely missing his skull—but it was close enough that the air hissed past his cheek like a promise.
He froze.
Good.
I turned my gaze back toward Veil.
She was already upon the first man. Her claws had torn through his chest like paper, dropping him in a twitching heap. She hissed with pure scorn as she turned her gaze to the next—the one Freya had marked. The one who dared to look at my daughter.
And not just her.
I saw the way his gaze lingered earlier.
Luna.
Astrid.
Freya.
That kind of filth didn't deserve a grave.
As Veil advanced, I found my thoughts drifting—just briefly—to her. Astrid. Still standing near Luna, stiff but unmoving, her eyes locked on the spectacle.
What even was she to me now?
Mate? Lover? Partner?
I scowled.
Concubine?
No. Ugh. I always hated that word. It made it sound like she was lesser. She wasn't. None of them were. Luna was my Alpha-mate, my queen. But Astrid... things had changed. I hadn't expected to feel anything beyond usefulness from her, but Freya had made that choice for all of us.
I needed to find something else to call her.
While I was thinking about that...
THUMP.
Veil dropped the bastard to the ground like rotting meat.
The same man who looked at my daughter like prey.
I didn't need to say anything—Veil was seething.
"This insect—" she hissed, eyes glowing like molten gold "—dared to look at our princess... a child... with eyes that do not belong near anything pure!"
She turned her head sharply toward me.
"I want to kill him myself," she growled.
I raised a hand, calm but absolute.
"No," I said coldly. "His death is mine."
She paused—just for a breath.
"But," I added with a razor-thin smirk, "that doesn't mean you can't get your pound of flesh."
That made her grin. And gods...
That grin...
She roared—a sadistic screech that echoed with unholy joy—and lunged at the still-conscious man.
He cried out, trying to crawl away, but Veil sank her fangs into his arm and lifted him high into the air like a toy. His screams pierced the sky as blood streamed from her bite.
Then—
SSSSHHHHHHH!!!
A fresh wave of acid poured onto the limb she'd bitten—dissolving flesh, nerves, bone. Everything but the life from him.
He screamed.
He begged.
She didn't care.
Veil dropped him midair, letting his body crash to the stone floor below. A sickening crack signaled both his legs snapping like dry twigs.
He wailed like a wounded animal.
And she wasn't done.
With a snarl, Veil landed beside him and sliced one of his legs off clean with a swipe of her claw.
The blood sprayed.
Freya giggled.
I blinked.
Veil paused—then looked back to see my daughter clapping, her emerald eyes bright with excitement, her cheeks flushed with thrill.
Veil's joy multiplied.
She hissed in delight and ran her tongue across her fangs like a cat tasting cream.
And me?
I just stood there... expression neutral, but inside—
Oh gods...
At this point, I should just change her name to Albedo.
She was reminding me way too much of her. It was actually getting a little scary.
If she started calling me "my beloved," I was going to flip.