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Chapter Text

Hilde had all her preparation squared away in the nick of time. Arne’s final test was set for midmorning the next day. It was now or never for the Arena dragons. And… and for her.

She changed out her regular everyday green apron dress for one in a deep blue, in hopes that it might help her camouflage with the night sky while riding Toothless. There was nothing to be done about her smock, but she did have a dark brown cloak to cover up the cream coloured linen. Toothless’ saddle bags were packed with tools, a blanket, and some dried fish and berries to eat later. She had her maps, her notes, and her dragon. She was good to go.

She waited until midnight before slipping out of her father’s house to go collect Toothless. She needed his help to get the Arena dragons free; he’d be able to explain to them what was going on. Cloaked in darkness, they slunk past the night watchmen patrolling the village. The men walking the streets were easy enough to avoid, but the man watching over the Arena was a little trickier. He was there to make sure none of the other recruits who didn’t make it to honours graduation could sneak in and kill the dragon before Arne had a chance. Her solution? Switch out his watered down ale with the strongest mead she could find in her father’s store cases at dinner that night. It was a risk, but as she and Toothless approached the Arena, she could see him slumped over his post. He was passed out. For good measure, Hilde hit the back of his head with a thick note book. She held a finger under his nose to check that he was still breathing, felt his breath, and slipped into the Arena.

“Alright, bud, I need you to keep them calm, okay?” she told Toothless, “We can’t let them get too loud, or else someone is going to find us.”

Toothless let out a low warble in response and approached the Nadder’s cage first. Hilde swallowed and slowly pulled the lever to open the cage. The low screech of metal rang in her ears and she paused in case anyone heard her. When no one came running, she opened the cage door all the way, peering at the dragon inside.

The blue Deadly Nadder inside was curled up into a ball, with her spiny tail wrapped around her nose like a spiky blanket. She opened her eyes as Hilde took a step into the cage. Hilde drew a fish from her bag and held it out for the Nadder to take. The dragon slowly uncurled her body and waved her head towards the fish, but did not take it yet. Hilde inched closer.

“It’s for you,” she said softly, “I’m not trying to trick you. This is for you.”

The Nadder squawked shortly and darted forward, snatching the fish away. It disappeared down her throat and then she turned to look at Hilde properly. Hilde kept low to the ground and held out a hand.

“I’m not like them. I’m sorry about that time in the maze. That boy shouldn’t have hurt you.”

The Nadder rumbled and inched her head forward, pressing her horned snout against the palm of Hilde’s hand. She smiled and brought her other hand up. This was going to work.

Toothless chirped behind her, grabbing both her and the Nadder’s attention.

“Oh, shush, you big baby. I’m allowed to make other friends,” Hilde teased, “Now. Let’s free the others.”

The Gronkle came pretty easily, won over by a pile of small rocks to snack on. The Terror didn’t even hesitate, it just took the fish, swallowed it whole, and curled up on Hilde’s shoulder. The Zippleback and Nightmare took a little convincing and damage control from Toothless after the Nightmare tried to snap at her, but eventually, they were out of the cages and not trying to attack her.

“Alright. I’m going to open the main gate and when I do, you flee. You understand? You fly away, far away from here. There are still Vikings awake on this island and they will kill you if you give them the chance. Okay?”

The Nadder and the Terror squawked in agreement. The Zippleback heads hissed at each other, but they seemed to understand. With that, Hilde grabbed the lever that opened the main gate and hauled on it with her entire body weight. It didn’t budge.

“Toothless, a little help here, please?”

Toothless warbled his little laugh and ambled over to add his weight to the lever. This time, the door began to rise and with a few fumbles, the entire door was open. The Zippleback zipped out first and never looked back, followed closely by the Nightmare. The Gronkle stayed long enough to sniff at Hilde’s pockets for more rocks before buzzing away. The Nadder nuzzled her horn against Hilde’s head and then did the same with Toothless, saying goodbye before she too fled. The Terror stayed right where he was on Hilde’s shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” Hilde asked. The Terror squawked. “Okay then. Toothless, I hope you’re okay with sharing.”

Toothless grumbled a bit, but allowed her to board his back again. The sound of the main gate opening was louder than the cage doors; someone had probably heard something and they needed to get out of there quickly.

With the dragons freed and her supplies gathered, all she had to do was to rip up her old green apron dress, cover it and one of her older notebooks in the blood of a squirrel, and plant it in the crash site where Toothless first landed. There were still scales littering the ground where he had hit a tree and lost a few in the impact. With any luck, anyone who found the site would think that she had been eaten by a dragon. That would stem off any search efforts, if there even would be any. She stood back to check her handiwork. It looked convincing enough. She looked to Toothless for his opinion, but he was too busy sneezing to notice. The Terror squawked in laughter at him and Hilde hastened to shush the little creature.

A crash alerted the two of them to a presence moving closer. Toothless began to snarl.

“Shh! Toothless, we gotta go!”

Not even a second later, she was strapped in and they were soaring into the night sky. The little Terror clung to her front, a comfortable warmth at her midsection in the chilly night air. She chanced one look back at the island and felt oddly empty seeing the fires disappearing into darkness.

This island had been her residence for her entire life, but it never felt like a home. The Hairy Hooligans had been her neighbours and kinsfolk, but they never felt like family. Maybe Gobber and the forge had been close, but there was something missing from the both of them. She’d read about what home was supposed to feel like and Berk had never felt like that.

But… up here in the thin cold air on the back of her best friend?

This was home. The dragons would be her family. She didn’t need anything or anyone else.

Arne couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t nerves, not on a long shot. Arne Hofferson didn’t suffer from something as weak as nervousness. He was just mentally preparing himself, like any good warrior did before a battle or trial.

As he tossed again in his bed, he faced the open window and saw that the moon was little more than a sliver of silver above them. The sounds of the night filtered into his room. Normally, they provided a wash of comforting noise to fall asleep to. But tonight… they didn’t sound quite right. Normally, there was the bleating of sheep and the footsteps of the night watch, intermixed with bird cries and the sounds of small animals going about their nightly activities. Tonight… the birds and mice were silent, and the sheep too. The animals were never silent, except for during dragon raids. But there were no dragons in the sky, at least none that Arne could see or hear.

He'd learned outdoorsmanship from his father by the time he reached his mother’s hip. He knew that a silent forest was a dangerous forest. Something was happening out there.

All things considered, he had no idea why he got out of bed and grabbed his axe and a torch, leaving the safety of his home behind to take a look. All of his father’s teachings told him to leave a silent forest alone, but his guts were screaming at him to investigate. And… there it was. It was faint from the treeline, but there was a dragon in the woods. He could hear the snickering and snarling of a dragon, perhaps a Terrible Terror, somewhere in the forest.

Again, his father’s words told him to run and sound an alarm or wake the Chief to warn him, but his gut told him to venture further.

He traversed the dense underbrush, unsure of his footing in the dim light cast by the moon’s thin crescent and his small torch. His foot crushed a twig, sending a snap echoing through the trees. Then came a horrible rumbling that raised the hairs on the back of Arne’s neck, followed by the flutter of wings taking flight and brushing against the tree boughs. A single inhuman screech pierced the night and then, there was silence again. Whatever dragon had been in the forest, it had fled.

Thrice now the voice of his father told him to go back inside. But he walked further into the woods, holding his torch aloft. He walked through the brush until he came across a site of destruction and his foot hit something that wasn’t a rock, branch, or patch of earth. He crouched to look closer, holding his torch to his face to see better.

It was a piece of cloth, badly torn and stained with something dark. The firelight distorted the colour of the cloth, but instinct and memory told him what the dark stain was, and his blood ran cold.

Attached to the cloth by a brooch was a string of beads. So it was a woman’s garment. A pendant of Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir, hung from the center. From Arne’s memory, there were few women in the village who wore this pendant.

But what sealed the deal was the book that fell from inside the cloth. The firelight was dim, but Arne could still make out what was drawn there. This was a mechanic’s book, and not just any mechanic: this was a mad mechanic.

There was only one person on the island who fit that description.

Hiccup.

The Hoffersons woke early and found Arne missing. They and their neighbours searched until Ingrid found her son in the woods, clutching a torn piece of mossy green, blood-stained cloth and the notebook. Blood and black scales littered the ground. She too recognized the beads and realized what her son had found.

Her husband Agar arrived soon after and saw the destruction in its fullness. He was the first one to put everything together aloud.

“Somebody find the Chief… his daughter’s been killed by a dragon.”

Arne stood just as frozen as he did five years ago, clutching at the blood-stained torn dress and ruined notebook.

Hiccup Haddock, only child of Stoick the Vast, had died that night, torn to shreds and devoured by a Night Fury. And Arne was the one who found what was left of her: a mossy-green apron dress, one brooch, a string of beads with a Mjolnir pendant, and a notebook filled with mechanical gibberish not even Gobber could interpret. So much was lost that night. Stoick lost his child, Berk lost its heir, and Arne lost his honour.

And yet here she was.

The face had aged, just like his had; the baby fat was trimmed, the jaw sharpened, and the eyes had hardened. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown that shone like unoxidized bronze. She was so much taller and obviously stronger.

But it was undoubtedly her.

“…Hiccup,” Arne breathed.

“Hilde,” she replied sharply, “My name is Hilde.”

Arne’s mind was racing and his breath began to do the same. For the third time in as many days, his vision blurred. He took an unsteady step and collapsed with the next.

Hilde watched Arne collapse to the ground for the third time since he’d stormed his way back into her life. She sighed. Why did this have to be the new norm?

She grumbled and went to haul his body off of the stones and into the cave system. Low tide would only last so long and she wasn’t about to let the man drown on her front lawn. She whistled for Toothless to help her drag him somewhere in their home that was above the waterline at high tide. She was definitely stronger than the last time they’d met face to face, but he too had grown since they were children.

She got Arne set up in her bed made of furs and woolen blankets, just barely stopping herself from tucking him in. Toothless gave her a look anyway.

“Oh, what are you looking at?” she scoffed, shoving his big dumb head away from her and electing to ignore his mocking warbles.

Stormfly had followed them into their home and was now shoving her head into Hilde’s space, begging for scritches. Despite her frustration, Hilde gave in. She could never stay mad at one of her most constant companions.

“Yes, thank you, pretty girl,” she cooed, “You did so well.”

Stormfly preened at the praise and squawked loudly. Arne stayed right where he was. Hilde pulled a wooden stool from under a work shelf and sat down. She had until Arne woke up to figure out what to do and how to mitigate the damage that this was going to cause. The whole point of the armor, the silence, and the home out in the middle of nowhere was that no one would ever know who she was. No one was ever supposed to connect Hilde Valsdottir with the Dragon Master, and they certainly weren’t supposed to know that Hilde Valsdottir was actually Hilde Horrendous ‘Hiccup’ Haddock III, daughter of Stoick the Vast and once-heir to the throne of Berk.

A greater, stronger woman would take Arne out right here and now, before he had the chance to wake up and consider the implications of what he saw.

But Hilde… was not that woman. So she waited. She could figure this out. She was, at her core, a problem solver and this was just another problem to solve. All she had to do… was wait.