Hiccup's Point of View
The forest was quiet when I returned. Not the kind of peaceful silence the villagers romanticize, but the alert, watchful stillness that comes when predators know they've been challenged—and lost.
I wiped a smear of blood off my forearm, my muscles aching with the familiar sting of victory. The bear had been a large one, bold enough to cross into my territory, arrogant enough to think it could stay.
It had been wrong.
I hadn't intended to be out this late. But I'd left my claws at the cove and didn't feel like tracking it back down with gear weighing me down. So, I used what I had—my hands. It had been a slow, grueling hunt, but there was something deeply satisfying about tearing down a threat with raw strength alone.
I hate predators in my territory. Unless they're mine—my dragons, my pets, my companions—they have no right to exist here.
And this one had paid for that mistake with its life.
The forest's scent changed as I neared the edge of the cove—less blood, more pine and moss. The damp air clung to me, grounding the heat of combat and replacing it with something cooler, more deliberate.
My sanctuary waited.
A place untouched by Berk's idiocy. The cove was where I built my true home—stone walls and a wooden door shaped by my own hands. A hidden forge. A training circle. Tools, maps, books. A cabin built for solitude and survival. Everything I needed.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced between the trees like spirits of the dead. I walked them without hesitation, my body moving on instinct, every step confident and quiet.
My father's absence—as always—had gone unnoticed. The man could barely track his own boots in mud, let alone the disappearances of the son he so proudly ignored. I honestly don't know how the version of me in the other timeline didn't just run. It would've been hard, sure, but not impossible.
And now? Now the thought of him returning from another worthless nest-hunting expedition only made me grin.
What would he say when he finally saw me—really saw me? Would he still puff out his chest and bellow commands like they meant anything? Or would his eyes widen, his voice falter, and the weight of what he created finally crush him?
I wanted to see him break.
I wanted to taste the moment his pride turned to fear.
Just like the teens did.
Ah, yes. The memory of their faces—eyes wide, knees trembling, that moment when their arrogant laughter died on their lips as I moved through the Gronckle like a shadow with teeth. That had been glorious. The scent of their panic still lingered in my nose like perfume made of vengeance.
It had been deserved.
Long overdue.
Still, I reminded myself not to sink too far into it. I had plans. And losing myself to the darker satisfaction of retribution too early would only slow me down.
I focused instead on the path ahead—toward the cove.
The place where, in another life, a weak boy fumbled his way into a bond with a dragon he couldn't understand.
But I wasn't that boy.
I was more.
Faster. Stronger. Sharper.
My body had reached its current limit. I knew that much. I could feel it—every breath, every movement had become honed, polished. The limits of what I could build with discipline and repetition had been hit.
But that didn't mean I couldn't find new ways to grow. There were always other means. Stronger materials. Smarter strategies. Darker choices.
When the time came, I would take what I needed.
But for now… my strength was enough.
I stepped past the final stretch of trees, and the familiar clearing opened before me.
And then I saw her.
Perched on top of my cabin roof, like a statue cast in moonlight and shadow, was her—the female Night Fury.
I stopped in my tracks.
Her tail curled tightly around her perch, wings partially spread for balance. Her emerald eyes shimmered in the twilight, locked onto mine before I'd even fully emerged from the brush.
She was watching me.
Waiting.
As if she'd known I was coming.
I could see fresh scratches on her flank—small, but raw. The rough landing from the last encounter must've left its mark.
Good thing I came prepared.
I'd packed salves, bandages, and tinctures. Not because I was optimistic, but because I anticipated this. She'd followed my scent here—drawn to the strongest concentration of it. My cabin. My den. My territory.
I had made sure she would find it.
Her presence confirmed it worked.
She had come.
I exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
She wasn't just a dragon. She wasn't just some creature of instinct.
She was intelligent. Observant. Curious.
And curiosity in a predator could be dangerous—or useful.
I'd have to tread carefully.
Still… I couldn't help but smile.
Not at her.
At fate.
Because this—this—was the beginning of something far greater.
She wasn't like the dragons who attacked me out of greed, blind to anything but their hunger. Those ones I had killed without hesitation—when they refused to yield, refused to flee. Those who thought they were apex predators in my land.
They weren't.
She wasn't like them.
Most dragons I encountered now weren't threats. They were sparring partners. Rivals. Allies in motion. I let them test me, challenge me, fly with me, dive through the skies just for the thrill of it.
And her?
Her presence… stirred something else entirely.
Not like her, though—not the one I really missed.
She'd nodded once when I asked if she'd return. That tiny gesture, that sliver of communication, had rooted itself deep in my chest and mind, she was one of the few I trust in this world and consider her my family. I knew she would come back eventually. I just wished it would be faster.
Sigh.
Whatever.
She'll return when she's ready.
But for now?
Now I had to earn the trust of the one sitting on my roof.
My future partner.
The female Night Fury.
And tonight, the game would begin again.