Chapter 1: Dragons and Doubts
Chapter Text
The clang of hammer against metal echoed through Berk, punctuated by the occasional roar of a dragon. Gobber’s forge was alive with activity, sparks flying as his hammer came down on another metal piece of a dragon saddle, his face a mask of frustration. He had grown used to this — fixing the damage caused by dragons as they played or misbehaved in the village—but lately, the chaos had gotten out of hand and hard to ignore.
“By Odin’s beard,” Gobber muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. Surveying the village made his stomach tighten because of what he saw. A group of Gronckles fought over a pile of rocks, their playful tussling causing a small shed to collapse. A Nadder accidentally knocked over a water barrel, sending it crashing down a hill into a vendor’s stall, scattering apple's in all directions.
“That’s the fifth one this week,” Gobber growled, shaking his head. He turned back to his anvil, hammering harder. “Aye, peace with dragons — but this isn’t the peace we bargained for, this overcrowding issue is getting out of hand.”
Around him, Berk bustled with its usual energy. The sky above was filled with dragons of every size and color, their wings casting shadows over the streets. Below, villagers darted about, either trying to fix the latest damage or simply going about their daily chores, used to the constant disruptions.
But there was an undercurrent of tension in the air — something unspoken, but felt by all.
Hiccup stood on the edge of a cliff, gazing out over the village he had worked so hard to transform into a place where humans and dragons could live in harmony. Toothless sat beside him, his tail flicking nervously. The Night Fury’s sharp eyes scanned the horizon, an unusual behavior for the normally so playful offspring of lightning and death.
Hiccup held a sketch in his hands, a half-formed plan to expand the dragon stables that had been damaged in a recent storm. But even as he studied the details, a knot of worry formed in his chest. Things weren’t going as smoothly as he had hoped.
“We’re stretched thin, bud,” Hiccup said quietly, his voice barely audible over the wind. “A Human-Dragon Utopia is a lot more... complicated than we thought.”
At this Toothless let out a soft purr, nudging Hiccup’s side as if to reassure him. But Hiccup’s brow furrowed, his fingers tightening around the parchment.
The village below was alive with motion, but not the kind of peaceful coexistence Hiccup had imagined. Dragons were clumsy and curious, breaking things unintentionally, and the villagers were growing restless. They loved the dragons — they had fought for them, after all — but living with so many of them was proving harder than anyone had anticipated.
“We just need to find a better system,” Hiccup muttered to himself. “There has to be a way to make this work.”
He tucked the sketch into his belt and made his way back toward the village, his mind racing with ideas. But deep down, he knew the problems weren’t just logistical. There was something more—something that couldn’t be solved with plans and inventions.
Astrid had already returned from her morning patrol, her expression grim as she dismounted from Stormfly. The Nadder shook herself off, sending a small cloud of dust into the air, and Astrid patted her absentmindedly, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
As soon as she spotted Hiccup, she strode over, her face set in a frown.
“Hiccup, we’ve got another problem,” she said, her tone clipped. “Two Nadders got into a fight over some chicken, knocked over a wheelbarrow and sent half the village’s weekly supply into the harbor. That’s the third time this month.”
Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We can replace the food. Dragons are... well, they’re dragons. We knew there’d be bumps along the way.”
Astrid crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not just the fish, Hiccup. It’s the food, the roofs, the fences. Every day there’s something new. People are starting to lose patience. And it’s not just the damage — the dragons are getting harder to manage. Some of them are getting... aggressive.”
Hiccup’s face fell slightly, though he tried to keep his voice calm. “We’ve been through worse, Astrid. We can handle this. It’s just a rough patch.”
“A rough patch?” Astrid’s voice held an edge now, frustration bubbling up. “Hiccup, the village is falling apart. We’re stretched too thin, and it’s only getting worse. We can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.”
Hiccup’s jaw tightened. He knew she wasn’t wrong, but admitting that felt like giving up on everything they had fought for.
“We just need time,” he insisted. “Things will settle down once we figure out how to live with the dragons.”
Astrid shook her head, her expression softening, but the concern remained. “Hiccup, I’m not saying that we should give up on the dragons. But we need to face the facts—this isn’t working. Not the way we thought it would.”
There was a heavy pause between them, the weight of unspoken fears and doubts hanging in the air. Astrid turned her gaze toward the village, her blue eyes scanning the chaos below.
“We’ll figure it out,” Hiccup said quietly, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “We always do.”
Astrid didn’t answer right away. She looked at him, her expression unreadable, before finally nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”
after their short conversation the young couple strode back to the village.
Fishlegs came barreling around the corner, his arms full of scrolls and books. He nearly tripped over a wandering sheep, but managed to keep his balance, muttering to himself about the new feeding schedules for the dragons. He waved absently at Hiccup and Astrid as he passed, too engrossed in his studies to stop.
Snotlout, on the other hand, sauntered over with a cocky grin plastered on his face. He leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed as he surveyed the ongoing chaos with something between amusement and disdain.
“You know,” Snotlout said, loud enough for the whole village to hear, “maybe we need to show these dragons who’s boss. A little discipline wouldn’t hurt.”
Astrid shot him a glare, but Hiccup spoke first. “That’s not how we do things, Snotlout. Dragons aren’t pets — they’re our allies.”
Snotlout rolled his eyes. “Allies? Right. Because allies knock over your roof and burn down your food supply. Face it, Hiccup, you’re too soft on them. Maybe if you stopped treating them like helpless little hatchlings, they’d stop wrecking everything and besides, what good is having the King of Dragons around if he can't control the chaos?”
Hiccup’s hands balled into fists, but he forced himself to stay calm. “This isn’t about control, Snotlout. It’s about trust. We’ve worked too hard to build peace with the dragons to throw it all away now.”
Snotlout snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Just don’t be surprised when the villagers start turning on you. They’ve got roofs to fix and mouths to feed, and they’re not gonna put up with this much longer.”
Before Hiccup could respond, Ruffnut and Tuffnut appeared, riding their hideous Zippleback Barf and Belch, the two-headed beast landing with a thud in the middle of the street. The twins leapt off, giggling as they watched a small group of baby dragons chase after a stray chicken.
“This place is a madhouse!” Ruffnut cackled, clearly enjoying the chaos.
“Yeah, it’s awesome!” Tuffnut agreed, tossing a fish into the air, only for Barf to snap at it, nearly biting his hand off in the process.
“Insane,” Snotlout muttered under his breath. “The whole lot of you.”
As the day dragged on, the tension in the village only seemed to grow. Hiccup spent hours helping with repairs, trying to calm both dragons and villagers. And after Stoick's death the weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders, besides every solution he offered felt temporary — like a patch on a sinking ship.
By evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a warm, golden glow, Hiccup found himself back at the cliff’s edge where his father used to take him when he was young. Toothless sat beside him, his eyes glowing faintly in the twilight. The Night Fury sensed his rider’s unease and let out a low, comforting warble.
Hiccup smiled faintly, running a hand over Toothless’s smooth scales. “What do you think, bud? Are we in over our heads?”
Before Toothless could respond, a distant shape caught Hiccup’s eye — a dark figure approaching Berk from the north, riding a dragon unlike any Hiccup had ever seen. The dragon’s wings were tattered and scarred, its body sleek and dark, moving with an eerie precision.
Hiccup frowned, his hand instinctively moving to his foot where Inferno rested. “Who...?”
Toothless growled, his gaze locked on the approaching rider, his muscles tensing as if ready for battle.
Astrid walked up beside Hiccup, her face shadowed in the fading light, she noticed Hiccup strangely staring out at the ocean, after following his gaze she also caught a glimpse of the mysterious figure. “Who’s that?” she asked, her voice low.
Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t know. But something doesn’t feel right.”
The stranger’s dragon let out a low, guttural growl as it neared the cliff, its eyes gleaming in the fading light. And for the first time in a long while, Hiccup felt the cold sense of unease settle over him.
Chapter 2: Shadows of the North
Summary:
Who is the mysterious dragon rider that landed on Berk? And why are they here?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The dragon rider was now only a few hundred feet away from the cliff, their dragon’s dark wings stirring the air with slow, deliberate beats. Hiccup's unease grew with every passing second, his hand tightening around the handle of Inferno. Whoever this rider was, they were approaching with a serious cause.
"Stay on alert, Toothless," Hiccup whispered. Toothless growled in response, his eyes narrowing as he lowered himself closer to the ground, ready to spring into action at any second if necessary.
Astrid shifted beside Hiccup, her hand resting on her ax. “They’re not flying any closer, it could be a lone traveler… but that dragon, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice was tight with suspicion, her sharp gaze fixed on the rider.
After waiting a few seconds the stranger brought their dragon to a smooth landing just beyond the edge of the cliff, close enough to talk but far enough to be out of immediate striking range. The dragon was a sight to behold — sleek, with blackened scales that seemed to suck in the light, its wings marked with scars from countless battles. Despite its fierce appearance, the creature moved with a calm, eerie precision that sent a shiver down Hiccup’s spine.
The rider remained still atop the dragon for a moment, allowing the wind to whip at their dark cloak before slowly dismounting. They were tall, their armor gleaming in the twilight, and their face was obscured by the hood of their cloak.
Hiccup took a step forward, raising his voice just enough to carry across the wind. “Who are you? What do you want on Berk?”
For a moment, the rider said nothing. Then, in a low, steady voice that seemed to cut through the wind, they responded. “I’m Freya, I bring a message.”
The words hung heavy in the air, and Hiccup’s heart began to race. A message? From where? And from whom?
The rider pulled back their hood, revealing a face that was strikingly familiar. Her icy blue eyes locked onto Hiccup’s, and there was a flicker of recognition — an instant connection that Hiccup couldn’t place. She was no ordinary visitor.
Astrid’s grip on her ax tightened beside him. "Who sent you?" she asked, her tone sharp, defensive.
Freya stepped forward, her movements smooth and deliberate, and the scarred dragon followed her every step obediently. "No one sent me, Astrid Hofferson. I come on my own accord, on behalf of those who know what’s coming. Berk stands at a crossroads. Your people are unprepared for the storm that approaches."
Hiccup frowned. "A storm? What are you talking about?"
Freya’s eyes flicked toward Hiccup, her expression calculating. "The world beyond Berk is changing, Chief. There are forces at work you haven’t seen. Threats you couldn't even imagine. My people — the Syndicate — are preparing for it. We’ve come to offer a choice: join us, or be swept away by what’s to come. With the way Berk is developing under your command since Stoick's death, the Hooligans wouldn’t last a minute against these forces"
Hiccup felt a cold knot form in his stomach. Syndicate . He had heard the name before from a drunken fisherman in one of the taverns up at the northern markets, in half-forgotten legends, but they had always seemed more myth than reality. Dragon riders who saw dragons not as allies, but as weapons — warriors who controlled their dragons with ruthless efficiency.
"We don’t need your help," Hiccup replied firmly. "Berk has survived on its own. We have peace with dragons, and we intend to keep it that way."
Freya’s lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Peace is a fragile thing, Chief. It’s a dream built on shifting sands. One threat — one push — and it all comes crashing down. Ask yourself: how much longer can Berk survive with nothing but good intentions? What happens when your enemies come knocking at your door, and you’re not prepared?"
Toothless growled again, sensing the charged atmosphere. Hiccup’s pulse quickened. He didn’t like the way Freya spoke, the way her words cut into his own doubts — the same doubts he had been trying to push aside for weeks.
Astrid interjected and stepped forward then, her voice hard. "We don’t need anyone telling us how to protect our home. Especially not from someone who rides in unannounced, making threats."
Freya tilted her head slightly, regarding Astrid with something akin to amusement. "It’s not a threat, Astrid. It’s a warning. Berk’s days of peace are numbered, and when the time comes, you’ll need more than idealism to survive. You’ll need strength. You’ll need allies who know what it means to win."
Hiccup glanced at Astrid, seeing the fire in her eyes — the same fire that had always driven her to protect Berk, no matter the cost. But there was something else there too, something he hadn’t seen before. A flicker of hesitation. Did she feel the same doubts that gnawed at him in the quiet hours of the night?
Freya took a step back toward her dragon, her gaze sweeping over both Hiccup and Astrid. "I’ll leave you with this: think carefully about what you want for Berk. My people can show you how to build a future where dragons aren’t just friends — they’re a force that can defend your home against anything. But that future won’t be available forever. When the storm comes, and it will come, you’ll need to choose. And you’ll need to be ready."
Without another word, Freya mounted her dragon and with a powerful beat of its wings, the creature took to the sky, disappearing into the darkening horizon.
Hiccup stood there, contemplating what just happened, watching as the rider vanished into the distance. The wind had picked up, howling across the cliff as if echoing Freya’s words. Berk was strong. Berk was united with the dragons. But deep down, a seed of doubt had been planted, and Hiccup couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling that Freya was right — that something bigger was on the horizon, something they weren’t prepared for.
Astrid remained silent beside him, her face unreadable, her eyes fixed on the point where Freya had disappeared. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the encounter settling between them like a thick fog.
Finally, Astrid broke the silence, her voice low but steady. “What do you think?”
Hiccup let out a long breath, still staring at the sky. “I think... we have to be careful.”
Astrid turned to face him, her expression hard. “Careful? Hiccup, she just waltzed into Berk, our island, your island, without being noticed by any of our patrols, talking about some coming war. If there’s even a chance she’s right—"
Hiccup shook his head, cutting her off. “I don’t trust her, Astrid. The Syndicate … everything about this feels wrong. I won’t let Berk be dragged into whatever war they’re preparing for.”
Astrid’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. Hiccup could feel the tension between them, simmering just beneath the surface.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Hiccup said, gazing out at the point where the sun just disappeared beyond the horizon. “For now, we need to think this through carefully.”
As they stood on the edge of the cliff where Freya left them with their own thoughts, Hiccup couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Freya’s words had already started a chain of events that couldn’t be undone. The storm she had warned about was out there, somewhere beyond the horizon, and Berk would have to face it — whether they were ready or not.
Notes:
Chapter 2 of "Flames of Deception" comes to an end, hope you all enjoyed!
- Chapter updates will be every saturday from now on.
- The story is already completely written to prevent discontinuation issues.
- As always: Feel free to drop Questions and your feedback in the comments!
Thanks for reading!Henryxon_Official
Chapter 3: Lines Drawn
Summary:
How will Berk react to Freyas threats? And what security measures are they gonna take?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The wind howled as Hiccup and Astrid stood on the cliff's edge, watching the sky where Freya and her dragon had disappeared into the clouds. He was deep in thought, replaying every word she had spoken, trying to make sense of the mentioned storm brewing beyond Berk's horizon. It was hard to ignore the fear gnawing in his gut — the Syndicate had come for a reason, and they weren’t making idle threats.
Astrid stood beside him, arms crossed and expression tense. “What now?” she asked, her voice tight. “We can’t just let her get away with that.”
Hiccup shook his head, the weight of responsibility burdening him. “We won’t,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “But we need to be smart about this. If the Syndicate is really what Freya says it is, we can’t just charge in blind.”
Astrid’s jaw tightened, clearly not satisfied with that answer, but before she could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind them.
“Hiccup! Astrid!” Fishlegs came running down the path, his face flushed from exhaustion. Behind him were Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut, all looking equally out of breath. “What’s going on? We saw that dragon land, and it didn’t look friendly.”
Snotlout huffed, catching up. “Yeah, no kidding. What’s with that thing? It looked like it’s been through Helheim and back.”
Ruffnut grinned, clearly intrigued. “I kind of like it. All scarred up, like it’s been in a hundred battles. Totally badass.”
Tuffnut nodded sagely. “Yeah, like a dragon you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. "I dig it.”
Hiccup turned to face them, his mind still bursting with possibilities and theories. “It’s the Syndicate,” he explained, trying to keep his voice calm despite the mounting anxiety. “A group of dragon riders — powerful ones — who don’t share our… views on dragons. This Freya girl was just here. She came to give us a ‘warning.’”
Fishlegs paled. “The Syndicate? I’ve read about them. They’re ruthless. They’ve been conquering territories across the archipelago and beyond it, using dragons as weapons for their evil plans in ways we’ve never seen before.”
Snotlout puffed out his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Using dragons as weapons. We’ve fought bigger threats before. We’ve got powerful dragons on our side, remember? We’ll just stomp them into the dirt.”
Hiccup shook his head, his brow furrowed. “It’s not that simple, Snotlout. Freya wasn’t just throwing around empty threats. She’s right about one thing though — there’s a storm coming, and Berk will be caught right in the middle of it.”
Astrid finally spoke up, her voice hard. “So what’s the plan, Hiccup? We can’t sit here and wait for them to land on our shores.”
Before Hiccup could answer, Gobber came trudging down the path, Valka not far behind him. Both wore grim expressions, as if sensing the tension in the air. Gobber’s peg leg clanked with each step, and he waved a hand toward the teens. “Alright, what’s all this about a dragon I don’t know? And why is everyone looking like they’ve just seen a ghost?”
Valka stepped forward, her eyes filled with quiet concern as she looked at her son. “Hiccup, something’s wrong, isn’t it? I felt it the moment I saw that dragon and its rider fly away.”
Hiccup nodded, his voice tight. “It’s the Syndicate . They’re not here for peace.”
Valka’s face darkened, her hand instinctively resting on the staff she always carried. “The Syndicate … I feared this day might come. They’ve been growing in strength, using dragons as weapons in ways we can’t imagine.”
Gobber snorted, crossing his arms. “Well, they’ll find Berk’s not an easy target. We’ve got dragons, and we’ve got grit. Let ‘em try to take us on.”
Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “It’s not that simple, Gobber. Freya made it clear — they’re not interested in open war. They want to break us from within. She spoke like Berk is already doomed.”
Snotlout rolled his eyes. “Pfft, let ‘em try. We’ll kick their butts and send ‘em packing. We’ve got dragons and my raw Viking muscle. What more do we need?”
Fishlegs, however, looked more concerned. “Hiccup’s right. The Syndicate doesn’t fight like we do. They’re organized, strategic and have a massive army at their disposal. If they have Freya scouting us, it means they’re already planning something.”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut exchanged grins. “Sounds like fun to me,” Ruffnut said, cracking her knuckles. “I say we go dragon-to-dragon and see who comes out on top.”
Valka placed a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, her voice soft but firm. “We need to think carefully about our next steps. The Syndicate are dangerous, yes, but they’re not invincible. We’ve faced worse.”
Hiccup met his mother’s gaze, grateful for her steady presence. “I know, but something about this feels different. It’s not just the Syndicate — it’s the way they’re using dragons. Freya said they’ve found a way to control them, not with force, but with something else. She didn’t say what, but it’s not mind control. It’s more like…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Like the dragons are loyal to them. As if they’ve been trained in a way we’ve never even seen before.”
Astrid crossed her arms, her expression tight. “If they’re using dragons against us, we need to be ready. It's a good time for Berk's defenses to get back into shape anyway. We can’t afford to be caught off guard.”
Hiccup nodded. “We’ll need to gather the dragons and make sure everyone in Berk is prepared for what’s coming. The Syndicate isn’t going to wait long before they make their next move.”
Gobber grunted. “I’ll get the forge ready for mass production. If it’s a fight they want, we’ll be ready.”
Valka smiled faintly, though her eyes remained serious. “And I’ll keep an eye out on the dragons. They may sense something we don’t. Perhaps they can help us understand what we’re truly up against.”
As the group began to disperse, Hiccup caught Astrid’s eye. She lingered behind for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re thinking about something,” he said quietly.
Astrid sighed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon where Freya had vanished. “I don’t like it, Hiccup. This whole thing feels wrong. We’ve spent years building this life with the dragons, and now someone’s threatening to tear it all apart. But what bothers me more is how Freya acted. Like she knew exactly how to get under our skin.”
Hiccup nodded, his thoughts echoing hers. “She did. She knew what buttons to press, what doubts to plant. She’s not just a fighter, Astrid. She’s a strategist. That’s what makes this even more dangerous.”
Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Then we hit them where it hurts most. If they’re going to strike us, we can’t just sit here and wait for it to come!”
Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “I agree, but we don’t know enough yet. Freya left without giving us much to go on. We need more information.”
Astrid studied him for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But the moment we know what they are planning, we strike immediately, we don’t wait.”
Hiccup watched her walk away, feeling the pressure of his role as Chief settle over him once more, he was never eager to become chief, but after his fathers demise he was practically forced to take on the position. Hiccup had always known peace wouldn’t last forever, but he hadn’t expected it to come crashing down as fast like this, with enemies from the shadows and threats from beyond their borders. Freya’s words gnawed at him, planting seeds of doubt he couldn’t easily shake off. But he couldn’t let fear paralyze him. Berk needed him, and he had to act before it was too late.
The day after Freya’s visit, the mood in Berk shifted. Hiccup and Astrid gathered the Riders in the chief's hut and prepared for whatever the Syndicate had in store. Gobber worked late into the night at the forge, crafting new weapons and repairing old ones, while Valka spent time monitoring the dragon's behavior, trying to understand if they sensed any disturbance from Freya’s dragon or the Syndicate ’s growing presence in the region.
Hiccup stood on the cliffs again, his eyes scanning the horizon, lost in thought. Toothless sat beside him, the bond between them unspoken but strong as ever. “What do you think, bud?” Hiccup asked quietly. “Do you think we can stop them?”
Toothless nudged Hiccup’s arm with his nose, a soft, reassuring gesture. Hiccup smiled faintly, grateful for his friend’s unwavering loyalty. No matter what happened, he knew Toothless would be by his side. Together, they had faced countless dangers, and this would be no different.
Notes:
Chapter 3 of "Flames of Deception" comes to an end, hope you all enjoyed!
Feel free to drop any questions and your feedback down into the comments.
A Kudos would be greatly appreciated! ❤
Thanks for reading and till' the next one!
Chapter 4: Preparing for Battle
Summary:
The Gang is back together and investigates Freyas threats. What will happen when they come face to face with the enemy?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, the skies over Berk were heavy with the weight of an approaching storm, dark clouds casting long shadows over the village. The sea churned angrily against the cliffs, and a cold wind blew through the streets, as if nature itself sensed the looming threat. It was fitting, Hiccup thought grimly, as he stood in the Great Hall, surrounded by his closest friends and allies.
The room was tense, filled with the clattering of metal as Gobber laid out weapons on a large wooden table. Fishlegs hovered nearby, anxiously fidgeting with a scroll filled with dragon anatomy notes, while Snotlout impatiently sharpened his ax, sending sparks flying. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were bickering in the corner, each trying to claim a better weapon than the other. Astrid stood beside Hiccup, her arms crossed, her face serious as they waited for the final piece of information before making their move.
Valka, having spent the previous night monitoring the dragons, entered quietly, her expression thoughtful. “The dragons are restless,” she said without preamble. “They sense something is coming. It’s as though there's some sort of smell in the air, and it’s unsettling them.”
Hiccup frowned. “Do you think it’s because of the Syndicate?”
Valka nodded slowly. “Most likely. Whatever Freya and her people are doing with the dragons, it’s unnatural. They’re building a loyalty that’s not based on trust, but on something else — something we don’t yet understand.”
Hiccup let out a long breath, feeling the pressure mounting. “We can’t wait any longer. We need to figure out where they’re going to strike and prepare Berk for whatever comes.”
Gobber, who had been quietly listening while inspecting a newly forged sword, grunted. “Aye, lad, but we need more than just sharp steel. If these Syndicate folks are using dragons against us, we’ll need more than brute force to stop ‘em.”
Snotlout snorted from where he stood. “I say we take them head-on! Give ‘em a taste of Berk’s finest warriors. Me and Hookfang will take on whatever they throw at us!”
Ruffnut rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Snotlout. You’d be the first one to run if things got too tough.”
“Would not!” Snotlout shot back, puffing out his chest. “I’m the bravest one here!”
“Bravest, or dumbest?” Tuffnut chimed in, earning a glare from Snotlout.
Astrid stepped forward, cutting through the bickering. “We don’t have time for this fooling around. If we’re going to defend Berk, we need a plan — and we need to stick to it.” She glanced at Hiccup, her eyes narrowing. “And we can’t just wait for them to strike first. We need to find Freya and the Syndicate before they find us.”
Hiccup nodded in agreement, his mind racing. “But how? Freya’s not going to make it easy for us to track her. And if we make a wrong move, we could be walking into a trap.”
Fishlegs, who had been quietly flipping through his notes, suddenly looked up. “Actually, there might be a way.” He pointed to a map spread out on the table, his finger tracing a line toward the northern seas. “Freya’s dragon had scars and signs of combat — marks that suggest it’s spent a lot of time in the northern territories, beyond the archipelago. There’s a place up there, a series of islands that used to be inhabited by an ancient tribe known for training dragons in… unusual ways. If Freya and the Syndicate have been using those techniques, that’s where they might be hiding.”
Hiccup leaned over the map, studying the area Fishlegs had pointed to. “The Northern Reaches… It makes sense. It’s isolated, and no one’s lived there in centuries. If they’re building an army, they could do it there without being noticed.”
Astrid’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Then that’s where we go. We take the fight to them.”
Before Hiccup could respond, Valka raised a hand. “Wait. If Freya is planning something bigger than just a raid, we need to be cautious. You can’t rush into this without fully understanding what they’re capable of.”
Gobber nodded, his usual gruff tone tinged with concern. “Yer mum’s right, ‘iccup. We don’t know what we’re up against yet. If they’ve got dragons trained for war on their side, they could be ten steps ahead of us.”
Hiccup rubbed his forehead, feeling the weight of every decision. But Astrid’s words rang true — they couldn’t afford to wait and let Freya strike first. If Berk was going to survive, they had to be proactive. “We’ll send a small scouting party,” Hiccup said, finally making the call. “We’ll head to the Northern Reaches, see what we can find, and report back. If they’re building an army, we’ll need to know before we can prepare Berk.”
Astrid nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“And me,” Fishlegs added quickly. “I know the territory, and if we run into any unfamiliar dragons, I’ll be able to identify them.”
Snotlout grinned, clearly eager. “Count me in. Me and Hookfang are ready to kick some Syndicate butt.”
“I suppose we’re coming too, right?” Ruffnut said, gesturing to her brother. “You can’t have a scouting mission without the twins.”
Tuffnut crossed his arms. “Yeah, it's going to be awesome! We got the band back together for another epic adventure!”
Hiccup couldn’t help but smile faintly, despite the situation. His friends were always willing to stand by his side, no matter the danger. “Alright. We leave at first light tomorrow morning. Gobber, you and Spitelout keep Berk safe while we’re gone. Valka, can you keep an eye on the dragons? If anything seems off, let me know when we’re back.”
Valka nodded, her expression serious. “Of course. Be careful, Hiccup. The Syndicate seems to be completely different from anything we’ve faced before.”
The next morning, the wind had calmed, but the air was still thick with tension as Hiccup and the others prepared to depart. The dragons were restless, pacing and snorting as they waited for their riders to mount. Toothless, ever the loyal companion, stood close to Hiccup, nudging him with his nose as if sensing his rider’s unease.
“You ready, bud?” Hiccup asked quietly, resting a hand on the Night Fury’s smooth scales. Toothless rumbled in response, his green eyes watching Hiccup with a mixture of trust and determination.
Astrid was already mounted on Stormfly, her expression set and focused. “Let’s get this done,” she said, her voice steady despite the gravity of their mission.
Fishlegs mounted Meatlug, while Snotlout hopped onto Hookfang with his usual swagger. Ruffnut and Tuffnut, of course, were already bickering about who should take the challenge of riding Barf and Belch upside down, though they eventually settled into their usual chaotic arrangement.
Hiccup mounted Toothless, casting one last glance back at Berk. Gobber and Valka stood on the village square, watching them with concern. Hiccup raised a hand in farewell, and then, with a sharp whistle, the dragons took off into the sky, their wings cutting through the air as they headed north towards the unknown.
The flight to the Northern Reaches was long and cold, the wind biting at their faces as they soared over endless stretches of icy water. The further north they went, the more desolate the landscape became, with jagged, snow-covered peaks rising from the sea like the bones of some long-forgotten beast. It was a stark contrast to the green, bustling life of Berk, and it served as a reminder of just how far they had come north.
Fishlegs, who had been scanning the horizon with a nervous look on his face, finally spoke up. “We should be getting close. If Freya and the Syndicate are here, they’ll likely be on one of these islands.”
Hiccup nodded, urging Toothless forward as they descended toward the rocky shoreline of the nearest island. As they landed, the sound of the wind howling through the cliffs was the only noise that greeted them. The island was eerily silent, as if even the birds had abandoned it.
“Creepy,” Snotlout muttered, his usual bravado faltering slightly as he glanced around. “So, what now?”
Hiccup dismounted, scanning the area for any signs of life. “We search the island. Look for anything unusual — tracks, signs of recent activity, anything that might lead us to the Syndicate base.”
The group spread out, their dragons following closely behind. As they moved deeper into the island’s rocky terrain, the sense of unease only grew. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional gust of wind.
It wasn’t long before Fishlegs, who had been examining the ground, crouched down, his face pale. “Hiccup… over here!”
Hiccup hurried over to Fishlegs, who was kneeling by a set of large footprints in the snow. The prints were deep, clearly recent, and unmistakably left by something massive. His heart quickened as he knelt beside Fishlegs, inspecting the tracks more closely.
“These are dragon tracks,” Fishlegs whispered, his voice tinged with anxiety. “But… they’re different. Look at the size of these claws. This dragon must be something like we have never encountered before.”
Astrid, standing nearby, narrowed her eyes. “One of Freya’s dragons?”
Hiccup stood up, thinking through the options. “It has to be. We’re close. Everyone, stay sharp. We don’t know how many of them there are, or if they’re watching us right now.”
The group continued forward, following the tracks deeper into the island. The terrain grew steeper, and the air colder, the eerie quiet pressing in on them from all sides. As they crested a ridge, a chilling sight awaited them.
Below, nestled in the valley between two jagged peaks, was a massive encampment. Dozens of tents, large and reinforced with heavy cloth, were set up in tight rows. But more alarming than the camp itself were the dragons. At least a dozen of large, battle-scarred dragons milled around the encampment, their eyes glowing faintly with an unnatural, eerie light. Each was equipped with heavy, menacing armor, and riders moved among them, tightening harnesses and preparing them for war.
Astrid sucked in a breath. “So this is what we’re up against…”
Fishlegs looked as though he might faint. “That’s… that’s a full-blown dragon army!”
Snotlout, for once, was speechless, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. Even Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who normally thrived in the face of chaos, were silent, staring down at the camp with wide eyes.
Hiccup’s heart pounded in his chest. This was far worse than he’d imagined. Freya hadn’t just been bluffing — they were building an army, and it was bigger and more dangerous than anything Berk had ever faced. His head raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.
Astrid stepped closer to him, her voice low. “We need to get back to Berk. Warn them.”
Hiccup nodded, his voice grim. “You’re right. We can’t take them on now, not without more information. But we need to tell the others what’s coming.”
They turned to leave, but before they could make it back to the ridge, a low, menacing growl echoed through the valley. Toothless stiffened, his ears perking up as he growled in response. A shadow passed overhead, and when Hiccup looked up, his heart sank.
Freya was here.
Mounted on her massive black dragon, Freya descended towards them, her eyes gleaming with cold triumph. “Going somewhere, Hiccup?”
The riders drew their weapons, but Freya didn’t attack. Instead, she landed her dragon a short distance away, dismounting gracefully as if she had all the time in the world.
“You didn’t think you could sneak around without being noticed, did you?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. “The Syndicate is always watching.”
Hiccup gritted his teeth, stepping forward. “Freya, this doesn’t have to end in a fight. We don’t want war.”
Freya smiled, a cruel edge to her lips. “But I do. You see, Hiccup, this is bigger than Berk. Bigger than you and your Night Fury. The Syndicate will unite the archipelago under one banner — one where dragons serve us, not the other way around.”
Snotlout tightened his grip on his ax. “That’s not how we treat dragons.”
Freya shrugged, unfazed. “Then you’re weak. Dragons are tools, Hiccup. You’ve just forgotten that.”
Hiccup’s fists clenched at his sides. “You’re wrong. Dragons aren’t tools — they’re our friends. Our allies. And that’s what makes us stronger than you.”
Freya’s eyes glinted with amusement. “We’ll see about that. You can run back to Berk and tell them what you’ve seen, but it won’t matter. When the Syndicate comes, your little island will fall. There’s no stopping us.”
With that, she mounted her dragon once more, the beast letting out a deafening roar as it took to the skies. “I look forward to seeing you again, Hiccup. But next time, we won’t be talking.”
As Freya disappeared into the clouds, Hiccup felt the weight of her words settle heavily on his chest. He turned to the others, his expression grim. “We need to get back to Berk. Now.”
Without another word, they mounted their dragons and took off into the sky, racing against time. The Syndicate was coming — and Berk had to be ready.
As the cold wind whipped around them, Hiccup couldn't shake the sense of dread tightening around his heart. They had seen Freya’s army, but what they hadn’t seen was the full scale of her plans. And time was running out.
This was only the beginning.
Notes:
Chapter 4 is done!
Feel free to drop your questions, suggestions and feedback down in the comments.
A Kudos and a Bookmark would be greatly appreciated ❤
Greetings and till' the next one!
Chapter 5: Tensions on Berk
Summary:
While Hiccup and Co. prepare for the coming attack of the Syndicate, tension is rising on Berk as different interests clash together.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Berk had never been silent. The clang of Gobber’s forge, the laughter of children chasing Terrible Terrors, and the flapping of dragon wings were part of the island’s daily rhythm. But now, an uneasy tension simmered beneath the surface. Hiccup could feel it in the air, crackling like a distant bushfire.
He stood at the top of a recently built watchtower, which was intended to increase Berks safety measures, scanning the sea and sky for any signs of the Syndicate . Toothless paced behind him, his tail twitching nervously. It had been days since they had returned from their mission to the Northern Reaches, and while the immediate threat of Freya’s forces seemed to have dissipated, Hiccup knew that the conflict was far from over.
“Still no sign of them?” Astrid’s voice broke the silence as she climbed the stairs, her face set in a grim expression. She had been working tirelessly with the other warriors to bolster Berk’s defenses, and though her efforts were admirable, Hiccup could sense a shift in her. There was a hardness in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.
Hiccup shook his head. “Nothing yet, but we can’t let our guard down. Freya’s out there, regrouping, and we don’t know how long we have before she strikes again.”
Astrid nodded but didn’t respond right away. She crossed her arms and looked out over the village below. “Maybe we’re doing this wrong,” she said quietly after a moment. “Maybe we should take the fight to them. Sitting here, waiting to be attacked — it feels like we’re just asking to be overrun.”
Hiccup frowned. He had been expecting this from her. “I get it, Astrid. But rushing into battle isn’t the answer. We need to be smart about this. We barely made it out of that raid alive the first time. If we go in blind again the second time—”
“We’ll be ready this time,” Astrid interrupted, her voice sharper than usual. “We know where their strongholds are. We have dragons on our side. What are we waiting for?”
Her frustration was palpable, and Hiccup felt a twinge of guilt. She had always been the fiercest among them, driven by her desire to protect Berk, the Edge, her family and the Gang at all costs. But something was different now. Her impatience, her aggression — it wasn’t just about defending their home. It was personal.
“I understand how you feel,” Hiccup said softly, turning to face her fully. “But Freya’s forces are bigger than what we’re expecting. They’ve got more than just a few soldiers. We need time to figure out what we’re really up against.”
Astrid’s jaw tightened. “You always want to ‘figure things out,’ Hiccup. But what if we don’t have the time? Freya could attack tomorrow, and we’re sitting here with our hands tied and doing nothing about it.”
Before Hiccup could respond, the sound of heavy uneven footsteps ascending the tower drew their attention. Gobber appeared, wiping the sweat from his brow with a rag. “Ah, there ye are, Hiccup. Valka sent me to find ye. There’s a bit of a situation down at the docks.”
“What kind of situation?” Hiccup asked, already knowing the answer from the look on Gobber’s face.
“The traders from the other islands — they’re pullin’ out. Saying Berk’s a lost cause, and they won’t risk sailin’ into a warzone.”
Hiccup sighed. The traders were crucial to Berk’s survival, providing food and supplies that they couldn’t produce on their own. Without them, the village would struggle to hold out in a prolonged conflict.
“I’ll go talk to them,” Hiccup said, heading for the stairs.
“I’ll come with you,” Astrid said, her voice still tight. “We need to show them we’re not just going to roll over and let the Syndicate take us.”
As they made their way down to the docks, Hiccup couldn’t help but glance at Astrid, the tension radiating off her like heat. This wasn’t the first time they had disagreed about how to handle the Syndicate , but the divide between them was widening. He knew it couldn’t go on like this much longer.
The docks were a flurry of activity as traders hurried to load their ships, clearly eager to be gone. Hiccup spotted Fishlegs and Snotlout nearby, trying — and failing — to convince one of the captains to stay.
“You can’t just leave!” Fishlegs was pleading. “We need supplies. Berk needs your help!”
The captain shook his head. “I’ve got a family to provide for at home. I’m not risking my life for a village that might not be here next week. The Syndicate isn’t just a band of random raiders, boy. They’re an army trained to kill!”
Snotlout, leaning against a crate with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes. “You’re all cowards. Berk could take on any army.”
Hiccup stepped forward before things could escalate further. “We’re not asking you to fight for us,” he said, addressing the captain. “But leaving now will hurt Berk more than the Syndicate ever could. We need time to prepare, and we can’t do that without your help.”
The captain hesitated, glancing at the other traders. “I’ve heard what Freya and her crew are capable of. Her forces… and they’ve got dragons, too.”
“That’s true,” Astrid said, stepping up beside Hiccup. “But so do we. Berk is stronger than you think. We’re not just a basic village; we’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Hiccup glanced at her, surprised by the intensity in her voice. She was trying to rally them, to show strength in the face of adversity, but there was something darker beneath her words, a hunger for battle that made him uncomfortable.
The captain studied them both, then sighed. “I’ll give you a week. After that, if things aren’t looking better, we’re out of here.”
“Thank you,” Hiccup said, feeling the weight of the ultimatum settle on his shoulders. One week. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
As the remaining traders began to unload their goods, Hiccup turned to the others. “We need to make the most of this time. We’ll fortify Berk and make sure we’re ready for whatever Freya throws at us.”
“You’re the chief, Hiccup,” Fishlegs said, though his voice wavered slightly. “We put our trust in you.”
Snotlout shrugged. “Yeah, sure, we trust him… but I wouldn’t mind cracking a few Syndicate skulls myself.”
“Typical,” Ruffnut said, rolling her eyes as she and Tuffnut walked up. “Always thinking with your fists, Snotlout.”
“Hey, my fists work just fine,” Snotlout shot back, again showing his biceps.
Before the bickering could continue, Astrid spoke up. “We don’t have time for this. If we’re going to defend Berk, we need to be smart. We need a strategy. And we need to be ready for battle”
Hiccup nodded, though he couldn’t help but notice the undertone in her voice. “I’ll meet up with Valka and Gobber. We need to plan for every possibility. Fishlegs, I want you to research everything you can about the Syndicate ’s tactics. Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, work on training the younger riders. We need everyone prepared.”
As the group dispersed, Hiccup caught Astrid’s arm. “Hey, we’re going to get through this. But we have to be careful.”
Astrid met his gaze, her blue eyes cold and unwavering. “I know. But if we’re going to survive, we can’t just wait for Freya to strike. We need to hit her first.”
Before he could respond, she pulled away and walked off towards Stormfly, her resolve hard as iron. Hiccup watched her go, his heart heavy with a sense of inevitability. She was slipping away from him, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
Back at the Great Hall, Valka and Gobber were already deep in discussion when Hiccup arrived. Maps and drawings were spread across the table, detailing Berk’s defenses and possible points of attack.
“Hiccup,” Valka said, looking up as he entered. “The traders are leaving?”
“They’re giving us a week,” Hiccup replied. “But we need to prepare for the worst.”
Gobber grunted. “Aye, well, I’ve reinforced the smithy and started workin’ on more weapons, but it won’t be enough if the Syndicate come at us with their full force.”
“We’ll have to rely on the dragons,” Valka said, her brow furrowed. “Their mobility is our greatest asset, but Freya has dragons of her own. We can’t underestimate her.”
Hiccup leaned over the table, studying the maps. “We need more than just defenses. We need to figure out what Freya’s next move is.”
Valka exchanged a look with Gobber. “There’s something else,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve been hearing whispers… rumors, really. I overheard a conversation from two of the traders in port, they said that Freya isn’t the only one we need to worry about. There’s someone else — someone more dangerous — pulling the strings behind the Syndicate .”
Hiccup’s blood ran cold. “Someone more dangerous than Freya?”
Valka nodded. “We don’t have any concrete information yet, but if the rumors are true, Freya might not be the one in charge of the Syndicate . There could be someone pulling the strings from the shadows — someone we haven’t seen yet.”
Hiccup felt a chill run down his spine. “Who? What kind of person would be able to control an army like the Syndicate ?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Gobber said grimly. “If there’s another enemy out there, one who’s been hidin’ in the dark all this time, we’re in more danger than we realized.”
Hiccup scratched his neck, his mind contemplating what Gobber said. “This changes everything. If there’s someone else orchestrating this, we need to figure out who they are — and fast.”
Valka placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We will, Hiccup. But for now, we need to focus on what we can control. Berk needs you. Your people need you to be strong. They need a chief they can rely on”
Hiccup nodded, though his thoughts were already spinning. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was at play here, something that went beyond Freya and the Syndicate . And if there was a mastermind behind it all, they were running out of time to stop them.
As he left the Great Hall, Hiccup couldn’t help but think of Astrid and the growing distance between them. He had always trusted her, but her recent behavior was making him question everything. If she was hiding something, if she was pushing for something darker than what he could allow, it could spell disaster not just for their relationship — but for Berk as well.
With the weight of Berk’s survival pressing down on his conscience, Hiccup knew that the next steps they took would determine the fate of the entire village. And somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he began to wonder if Astrid’s desire to strike first was a sign of something much worse to come.
Notes:
Chapter 5 is wrapped!
Got some good amount of Storydevelopment done in this one.💪🏻
There are some big things planned for Astrid in the future.👀
I hope you enjoyed this one, feel free to drop your thoughts in the comments!
Chapter 6: A War on Two Fronts
Summary:
With Berk on the brink of War, tension bubbles up in the village, and Astrids strange behaviour doesn't help the young Chieftain Hiccup in leading his town through the upcoming battles.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Berk’s twilight was painted in shades of orange and purple, the skies calm, but the village beneath was a stark contrast — buzzing with activity. The peaceful days were long gone. Every villager, from the youngest to the oldest, was working to prepare for the inevitable war. Hiccup stood at the edge of the cliff, staring out into the horizon, watching as the sun slowly dipped beneath the ocean’s edge. Toothless sat beside him, his green eyes sharp and alert, sensing the same tension that coursed through Hiccup’s veins.
The week had passed too quickly. The traders had held to their word, giving Berk just enough supplies to last, but the threat of Freya and the Syndicate was now looming larger than ever. Every day without an attack felt like borrowed time.
“Still nothing,” Hiccup muttered, scanning the distant waters for any sign of approaching enemies. He had spent every day looking for a clue, a warning, something that would signal what Freya’s next move might be. But all he found was uncomfortable emptiness.
“Nothing yet?” Astrid’s voice came from behind him as she climbed the rocky hill to join him. She had been more distant lately, always on the move, training, strategizing, pushing the warriors of Berk to be ready for anything. But Hiccup couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong, something unspoken between them.
“We’re going to be ready,” Astrid continued, her gaze also fixed on the horizon. “We won’t let Berk fall.”
Hiccup nodded, but the uneasy feeling in his chest only grew stronger. “I just don’t understand why she hasn’t attacked yet. We know she’s got the numbers, the dragons. She could overwhelm us easily. What’s she waiting for?”
Astrid’s lips tightened. “Maybe she’s waiting for us to slip up.”
Hiccup frowned. “Or maybe… there’s something else going on. We’ve been so focused on Freya, but what if there’s more to it? My mom and Gobber have heard rumors. They think there’s someone else behind this, someone we haven’t seen yet.”
Astrid turned to face him, her blue eyes hardening. “You think there’s another enemy out there?”
“I don’t know,” Hiccup admitted. “But we need to be prepared for anything. Freya’s strong, but if she’s working for someone even more powerful…”
“We’ll deal with it when we have to,” Astrid cut him off. “Right now, we need to focus on Freya. She’s the threat.”
Her tone was sharp, and Hiccup could feel the tension between them growing. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. But we can’t ignore the possibility of something bigger.”
Astrid’s eyes flashed with frustration. “We can’t hesitate either, Hiccup. If we wait too long, we might not have a chance to fight back.”
Before Hiccup could respond, the sound of rushing wings filled the air, and Fishlegs came soaring toward them on Meatlug. “Hiccup! Astrid!” he called, his voice urgent. “You need to come to the Great Hall — now!”
Hiccup exchanged a quick glance with Astrid before they both mounted their dragons and took off after Fishlegs. Toothless’s wings beat powerfully as they flew toward the center of the village, where a crowd was already gathering.
When they landed, Valka and Gobber were waiting outside the Great Hall, their faces grim. The teens — Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Fishlegs — stood nearby, their expressions tense. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” Hiccup asked, dismounting and striding toward his mother.
Valka’s gaze flickered toward the sky. “We’ve just received a message — from Freya.”
Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat. “A message?”
Gobber nodded, his hand resting on a new gronckle iron ax he recently forged. “She’s demandin’ our surrender.”
The words hit Hiccup like a punch to the gut. He had expected an attack, a show of force, but not this. Not a random demand for surrender.
“We can’t,” Astrid said immediately, her voice firm and unyielding. “We can’t give up.”
“I know,” Hiccup said, his mind racing. “But what else did she say?”
Valka handed Hiccup a rolled-up piece of parchment. “It’s not just a demand for surrender. She’s offering us a choice — surrender and let her take control of Berk, or face her army in battle.”
Hiccup unrolled the parchment, his eyes scanning the neat, precise handwriting. Freya’s words were clear, and the threat was unmistakable. She promised no mercy for those who resisted, but offered peace for those who submitted. At the bottom of the letter was an ultimatum — Hiccup had until sunset tomorrow to make his decision.
Hiccup’s hands tightened around the parchment. “She’s going to attack, no matter what we choose.”
“Of course she is,” Snotlout said, crossing his arms. “She’s not going to just waltz in here and ask us to let her take over without a fight. We’ve got dragons. We’ve got defenses.”
“But she’s got more dragons,” Fishlegs said nervously. “And we don’t even know how many soldiers she has.”
Hiccup turned to Valka. “What do we do?”
Valka’s expression was somber. “We can’t surrender. Berk would never survive under her rule. But we also can’t underestimate the danger we’re in. If we choose to fight, we’ll be outnumbered.”
Gobber grunted. “Aye, but we’ve never been ones to back down from a fight.”
Astrid stepped forward, her hand on her ax. “We need to strike first. If we wait for her to bring the fight to us, we’re giving her the advantage. We can’t afford that.”
Hiccup hesitated. He knew Astrid was right in some ways — they couldn’t just sit back and wait to be attacked. But there was something about her eagerness to fight that troubled him. She was more aggressive, more focused on violence than ever before.
“We’ll have to be smart about it,” Hiccup said finally. “We can’t just charge in without a plan.”
“We need to know more about her army,” Fishlegs said thoughtfully. “If we can figure out what kind of dragons she has, we might be able to come up with a strategy to counter them.”
Hiccup nodded. “Fishlegs, I want you to gather all the information you can. Talk to the traders, see if they’ve heard anything. Gobber, keep working on reinforcing the defenses. And Astrid…”
Astrid’s eyes were sharp, waiting for his command.
“You and I need to scout the area. If Freya’s already on the move, we need to know where she’s coming from.”
Astrid gave a quick nod, already moving toward Stormfly. “Let’s go.”
The sky darkened as Hiccup and Astrid flew north, Toothless and Stormfly cutting through the cool evening air.
An island stretched out beneath them, quiet and still, but Hiccup’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.
“What do you think Freya’s planning?” Astrid asked, her voice carried by the wind.
Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m starting to think she’s not just after Berk. There’s something bigger at play here.”
“Bigger?” Astrid frowned. “Like what?”
Hiccup glanced at her, wondering how much he should say. The rumors his mother had heard, the whispers of a greater force behind the Syndicate — it all pointed to something much more dangerous than Freya alone.
“I think Freya’s working for someone else,” Hiccup said carefully. “Someone we haven’t seen yet.”
Astrid’s jaw tightened. “Then we need to take her down before this ‘someone else’ gets involved.”
Hiccup didn’t respond right away. He could hear the cold edge in Astrid’s voice, the relentless determination. She was pushing harder than ever before, and it worried him. What has changed? Why was she so set on fighting, on striking first?
As they flew over some cliffs, Hiccup spotted movement below. “Look!” he pointed, urging Toothless to dive.
They descended swiftly, landing on the rocky shoreline where a small group of Syndicate soldiers was camped. The soldiers were preparing for something — probably the first wave of Freya’s attack.
“We need to take them out,” Astrid said, her hand already on her ax.
Hiccup shook his head. “No, we need to gather information. If we attack now, we’ll tip them off.”
Astrid glared at him, but after a tense moment, she relented. “Fine. But if they notice us, we take them out. No hesitation.”
Hiccup gave a nod, though he could feel the tension growing between them again. They crept closer, hiding behind the rocks as they listened to the soldiers talk.
“… Freya’s orders are clear. We move at dawn,” one soldier said. “The main force will come from the west, but we’re to scout the north side of the island.”
Hiccup’s heart sank. They were planning a full-scale attack from multiple directions. Berk wouldn’t be able to defend against that kind of assault without more preparation.
“Did you hear that?” Astrid whispered, her eyes narrowing. “They’re coming from the west and scouting the north. That means Freya’s spread thin. We could take advantage of that.”
Hiccup hesitated. “Maybe, but we need to be sure. If we act too soon, we’ll alert them and lose any advantage we might have.”
Astrid’s frustration was clear. “We can’t just sit here, Hiccup. We need to take the fight to them before they overwhelm us!”
Before Hiccup could respond, one of the soldiers stood up, “I think I heard something in the underbrush over there”, he said as he began moving towards their hiding spot, his eyes scanning the trees. Hiccup tensed, grabbing Inferno from his leg.
Astrid’s grip tightened on her ax, ready for action.
The soldier’s footsteps drew closer, and for a moment, it seemed like they were about to be discovered. But just before he rounded the last bush separating them, a loud voice echoed from the camp. The soldier whipped around, distracted by the commotion.
“We’ll deal with it later,” one of the other guards called out. “We have our orders — move out. Now!”
The soldiers began packing up their camp, preparing to leave. Hiccup let out a quiet breath of relief.
“We should follow them,” he whispered. “If we can figure out where their main camp is, we’ll have a better idea of their numbers.”
Astrid looked like she wanted to argue but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if we get the chance to take them out…”
“We will,” Hiccup promised, though his gut told him that a direct confrontation wasn’t the answer — at least, not yet.
As they mounted their dragons and took to the sky once more, Hiccup couldn’t shake off the feeling that Astrid’s growing aggression was a sign of something more troubling. She wasn’t just being cautious — she was pushing for a fight, pushing to attack before they even had all the information.
And as much as Hiccup wanted to trust her judgment, he couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt in his heart.
Notes:
Thank you all for reading up to this point!
It's about to get real spicy for our favorite Dragon Riders.
And what is going on with Astrid? She needs to chill fr
Greetings and till next Chapter!
Chapter 7: A Heart Divided
Summary:
When Berk begins the fight against Freya's troops, we get an interesting insight into Astrid's behavior.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The air over Berk was still, too still. It had been hours since Hiccup and Astrid had returned from their scouting mission. Yet, the unease that had settled in the village had only deepened. The sky was heavy with the promise of war, and Hiccup’s mind was racing.
Sitting at the table in the Great Hall, he went over maps, marking potential points of attack, but his thoughts kept drifting to Astrid. The fierce determination she had displayed during their mission, her eagerness for battle — it wasn’t just out of duty anymore. Something was off, something he couldn’t quite place. Hiccup had always known Astrid to be a warrior, but there was a new intensity to her actions, a willingness to strike first, even at the cost of their long-held principles.
"She’s different," Hiccup muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples.
Toothless, lying beside him, grunted softly in agreement, sensing his rider’s turmoil.
Before Hiccup could lose himself any further in his thoughts, Gobber stormed into the hall, his face flushed with urgency. "Hiccup, it’s time. Freya’s troops are on the move. We’ve spotted their scouts on the west side of the island."
Hiccup’s head shot up. "Already?"
"Aye, no more time for waitin’ around. We need to gather everyone. Time to put your plan into action."
Hiccup stood, his legs feeling heavier than they should. "I’ll gather the others." But even as he spoke, his mind wandered to Astrid again. Where was she?
Flashback: Two weeks ago
Astrid stood at the edge of the forest, her heart pounding in her chest. She had received a message that had been delivered in secret, one that led her to this moment — standing alone in the shadows, waiting for someone she should never meet.
The trees rustled in the wind, and a tall figure emerged from the mist, accompanied by a sleek, dark dragon. Freya stepped forward, her presence commanding, eyes sharp with intelligence and ambition.
"Astrid," Freya’s voice was smooth, calculating. "I wasn’t sure you’d come."
Astrid crossed her arms, her jaw clenched. "This better be worth it. If anyone finds out I’m here…"
Freya smiled, an expression that didn’t reach her cold, calculating eyes. "Oh, I have no intention of exposing you. That would be foolish, considering how useful you could be to me."
Astrid glared at her. "What do you want, Freya?"
"I want you to think about Berk’s future," Freya began, her voice low and persuasive. "Hiccup is a dreamer. A visionary, yes, but blind to the realities of the world. The peace he believes in is fragile — one wrong step, and Berk could fall. But you, Astrid, you understand what it takes to protect your home. You’ve always been the warrior Berk needed."
Astrid remained silent, but Freya could see the conflict in her eyes.
Freya stepped closer, her tone softening. "Berk is in danger, Astrid. You know that. The Syndicate isn’t just about conquest — it’s about survival. Imagine a Berk where we lead, where we control the future. With the dragons available for our defense, no one could threaten us. You could protect your people, but only if you’re willing to make the hard choice."
Astrid’s heart raced, her mind spinning. "And you think aligning with you is the right choice?"
Freya nodded. "I think it’s the only choice. Hiccup doesn’t see the storm coming, but you do. If you stand with me, we can protect Berk — on our terms. No more waiting for enemies to strike first. No more leaving your fate to chance."
Astrid clenched her fists. She hated that Freya’s words made sense. She had been frustrated with Hiccup’s hesitation, his refusal to act aggressively. Freya offered her something else — control, power, the ability to protect Berk the way she believed it needed to be protected.
"I won’t betray Hiccup," Astrid said, but even as she spoke the words, they felt hollow.
Freya smiled again, a knowing smile. "You won’t have to. All I need is your cooperation. Help me, and Berk will be ours to protect, without spilling innocent blood."
Astrid’s resolve wavered. For Berk, she told herself. For the future of her home.
Present Day: The Day of Battle
Hiccup stood at the head of the Great Hall, addressing the gathered warriors of Berk. Astrid stood by his side, her face a mask of determination, though Hiccup could sense something deeper behind her eyes — something he couldn’t name.
“The Syndicate are moving on us,” Hiccup began, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “We’ve seen their scouts. They’ll be here by morning.”
The room murmured with nervous energy, the reality of the situation sinking in. Valka stood quietly at the back of the hall, her expression unreadable, while Gobber and the teens stood near the front, their faces set with resolve.
“Our only advantage is knowing where they’re coming from,” Hiccup continued. “Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, and I will take the eastern cliffs. Astrid will lead the defense on the northern side.”
Astrid nodded, stepping forward. “We’ll have our dragons ready. Stormfly and I will be waiting to strike the moment they make landfall.”
Hiccup’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. Something was wrong. He could feel it. But there was no time to confront it now — not with war knocking at their door.
“We stick to the plan,” Hiccup said, forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand. “We don’t give Freya the advantage. We fight smart, and we fight together.”
The warriors nodded, and the crowd began to disperse, preparing for the battle ahead. But Hiccup couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something — something crucial.
He caught Astrid’s arm as she turned to leave. “Astrid, wait.”
She stopped, her blue eyes locking onto his. “What is it, Hiccup?”
Hiccup hesitated, searching her face for any sign of what was troubling him. “Are you okay? You’ve been… different lately. More distant.”
Astrid’s expression hardened, her walls going up. “I’m fine. We’ve got a war to fight, Hiccup. I’m just focused on that.”
But Hiccup wasn’t convinced. “I know, but—”
“Hiccup, we don’t have time for this,” Astrid snapped, pulling her arm free. “I’m fine. Let’s just do what we need to do.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Hiccup standing alone in the fading light.
The night of their secret meeting replayed in Astrid’s mind as she moved through the village, checking on the preparations. Freya had promised her power, control over Berk’s future, but Astrid hadn’t realized how much that decision would weigh on her.
Over the past weeks, her loyalty to Hiccup had wavered. Every time he hesitated, every time he refused to act decisively, Freya’s words echoed in her mind. Berk needed a leader who wasn’t afraid to make the hard choices, and Freya had convinced Astrid that she was that leader.
But the more Astrid worked with Freya behind the scenes, the more she felt the pull of betrayal. She never wanted to betray Hiccup, but her loyalty to Berk had become tangled with her need to protect it at all costs — even if that meant standing against Hiccup, her own boyfriend.
Now, as the battle loomed, Astrid felt the weight of her decision more than ever. She had made her choice, but it wasn’t without consequences.
As dawn broke over Berk, the first sounds of war echoed across the island. Freya’s forces had arrived.
Hiccup stood atop a hill, watching as the Syndicate’s dragon-mounted soldiers swooped in from the west, above the huge battleships stacked with soldiers, their battle cries piercing the air. Toothless snarled beside him, ready for the fight.
Astrid was in position on the northern cliffs, leading a group of Berk’s finest warriors. Stormfly circled above, waiting for Astrid’s signal.
But as the battle unfolded, Astrid’s mind was elsewhere — back in the shadows of her deal with Freya, torn between her loyalty to Hiccup and the future she had been promised.
And as Freya’s ground forces surged forward, Astrid knew that the moment of truth was approaching. She had chosen her path. Now, she would have to go get it done and face the consequences.
Notes:
Again, please drop your thoughts about this chapter, and especially the Flashback, in the comments.
I hope you enjoyed this one, the war is starting now and the big showdown is fastly approaching.
I look forward to see you all again in the next one!
Chapter 8: A Evil Reveal
Summary:
As the Battle for the village rages, Astrid reveals her true intentions which tore Hiccup down, but in his heartbreak he soon gets confronted with an much deadlier enemy.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Toothless, we need to check the cliffs,” Hiccup said urgently, his voice barely audible above the roar of battle.
Toothless gave a low growl of agreement, his muscles tensing as he changed course and sped toward the northern ridge. As they soared above the smoke and fire, Hiccup’s stomach twisted in knots. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.
When they reached the northern cliffs, Hiccup’s heart sank. The defenses had crumbled. The barricades were torn apart, and there was no sign of Astrid or her warriors. Instead, the ridge was eerily quiet, with only a handful of Berk’s fighters scattered across the battlefield, their faces filled with confusion.
Hiccup landed Toothless and hurried over to one of the warriors, who he recognised as Agnar, as he nursed a wound on his arm. “Where’s Astrid? What happened here?”
Agnar looked up, his face pale. “She… she led a charge up the ridge. Took a group of us with her, but we got separated when the Syndicate ambushed us. I haven’t seen her since.”
Hiccup’s heart clenched. He scanned the horizon, his mind racing. Why would Astrid lead a charge without waiting for reinforcements? She wasn’t reckless. Unless…
Without a word, Hiccup mounted Toothless again and took to the skies. They soared higher, heading toward the ridge, Hiccup’s eyes searching desperately for any sign of Astrid. Then, through the smoke, he saw something — figures gathered near the edge of the cliffs.
As he flew closer, Hiccup’s pulse quickened. Astrid stood at the center of a group of warriors, but they weren’t Berk’s fighters. These were Freya’s soldiers, their dark armor gleaming in the firelight. And standing among them, calm and composed, was Freya herself.
Hiccup’s heart sank.
He landed Toothless a short distance away and dismounted, his mind spinning. Astrid wasn’t attacking them — she was talking to them.
“Astrid!” Hiccup called out, his voice echoing over the cliffs.
She turned slowly, her eyes locking with his. For a brief moment, Hiccup saw a flicker of emotion cross her face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She stepped away from the group of Syndicate soldiers, her expression unreadable.
“Hiccup,” she said calmly, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Hiccup’s heart raced. “What’s going on? Why are you with them?”
Astrid glanced at Freya, who stood silently, watching the exchange with interest. “I’m doing what I have to do, Hiccup.”
Hiccup stared at her, disbelief and confusion warring in his mind. “What are you talking about? Freya is the enemy, Astrid. She’s attacking Berk!”
Astrid didn’t flinch. “Berk can’t win this war, not the way things are going. Freya has the power to help us. We need her if we want to survive.”
Hiccup felt a surge of anger and betrayal. “Help us?! Astrid, she’s trying to destroy everything we’ve built! How can you stand here and say we need her?”
Astrid’s expression hardened. “You don’t understand, Hiccup. Berk has been falling apart since you took over. You led us into this war in which our people are dying, our village is crumbling. If we keep fighting the way we have been, we’ll lose everything. Freya offers strength — power that Berk can’t match.”
Hiccup took a step forward, his voice lowering. “At what cost? How many more lives are you willing to sacrifice, Astrid? This isn’t just about winning — it’s about who we are.”
Astrid’s eyes flickered, but she quickly masked her emotions. “I’m doing this for Berk. For our future. Freya has a plan — a way to end this war without more needless death.”
Hiccup’s heart broke at her words. “And you trust her? After everything she’s done?”
Astrid didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned to look at Freya, who stood silently, her gaze cold and calculating. “Freya isn’t the monster you think she is, Hiccup. She wants to end this war as much as we do.”
Hiccup’s fists clenched at his sides. “You’re wrong. Freya wants power, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get it. She doesn’t care about Berk or its people, just like every other bad guy we ever came across.”
Freya’s voice cut through the tension like ice. “Berk is already lost, Hiccup. Your idealism blinds you to the truth. The Syndicate will take what is rightfully ours — whether you fight us or join us.”
Hiccup’s gaze snapped to Freya, his anger boiling over. “I’ll never join you.”
Freya’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “Then you’ll die along with your precious Berk.”
Before Hiccup could respond, the ground beneath them rumbled. A distant roar echoed across the battlefield, louder and more menacing than any dragon he had ever heard. He turned sharply, his heart pounding as he saw it — a monstrous tidal class dragon, larger than any creature he’d ever encountered, emerging from the water at the far side of the ridge.
Its fins were tattered and scarred, its scales a deep, jagged black, and its eyes burned with a fiery intensity. This was no ordinary dragon — it was a weapon, bred for war.
Freya’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Meet the Syndicate ’s greatest creation. Meet the Tenebris Rex.”
Hiccup’s blood ran cold. This was the final piece of Freya’s plan — a dragon powerful enough to wipe Berk off the map.
Astrid’s voice was quiet, almost pleading. “Hiccup, you need to leave. You can’t fight this.”
Hiccup turned back to her, his voice thick with pain. “You’re really going to stand by the side of the enemy and let this happen? After everything we’ve been through?”
Astrid’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she mounted Stormfly and flew away, her expression distant, as if the weight of her choices had finally settled on her shoulders.
Freya’s army began to mobilize, the air filling with the sound of marching soldiers and the beating of dragon wings. Hiccup felt the weight of the world pressing down on him. They were preparing for a full-scale assault, and Astrid was right in the middle of it.
He mounted Toothless, his mind racing. He couldn’t fight Astrid. He couldn’t abandon Berk. But what could he do, standing alone against Freya’s army, with the woman he loved on the enemy's side?
As Toothless took to the skies, Hiccup looked back one last time, his heart breaking as Astrid flew away with Freya’s forces, disappearing into the smoke-filled sky.
At the far side of Berk, the massive dragon made landfall, shaking off some water it opened its hidden wings and took to the sky.
Above Berk, the massive dragon circled, casting a shadow over the island as Freya’s army prepared to launch their attack. Hiccup and Toothless soared higher, scanning the battlefield below. Everywhere they looked, Berk’s defenses were faltering. Freya’s forces were overwhelming, and the warriors of Berk were struggling to hold their ground.
Toothless let out a low growl, his gaze fixed on the monstrous dragon below. Hiccup knew they couldn’t fight it — not yet. They needed a plan. They needed time.
Hiccup’s mind raced as he directed Toothless back toward the village. They had to regroup. They had to find a way to hold Freya’s army off before Berk was lost forever.
Notes:
Dear my readers, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this story! Some positive\negative reviews in the comments are greatly appreciated!
Anyway, I wish everyone reading this note a happy first advent and a great start in this year's Christmas season! 🥳🎄---
Translations:
• Tenebris Rex (lat.) ≈ King of Darkness
Chapter 9: The Weight of Leadership
Summary:
While Berks defensives are crumbling under the massive attacks of Freya's Syndicate forces, Hiccup and Toothless have a epic duel with the Tenebris Rex.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over Berk’s smoldering ruins. Hiccup landed Toothless near the village square, his heart heavy. The air was thick with ash, and the once-vibrant village now resembled a battlefield in every sense of the word. Buildings were charred, their frames barely standing, and the crackling of the fires sounded through the streets.
Hiccup dismounted, his legs feeling like lead. Every step he took toward the village felt like a weight on his chest. As the chaos of the battle subsided, the reality of the situation set in — Berk was on the verge of collapse.
He was greeted by Fishlegs, who was bandaging a cut on his arm, looking exhausted but determined.
“Hiccup, you’re back,” Fishlegs said, his voice tinged with both relief and exhaustion. “Things… things don’t look good.”
Hiccup nodded grimly, his gaze scanning the destruction. “I know. I saw it from the sky.”
Fishlegs followed Hiccup’s gaze to the smoking remains of the village. “We’re not holding out much longer, Hiccup. Freya’s forces are too strong, and her dragons… they’re relentless.”
Hiccup swallowed hard, trying to push away the despair clawing at him. “We can’t give up. We still have a chance — there has to be a way.”
Gobber hobbled over, his face grim and streaked with soot. “We’re fightin’ a losin’ battle, lad. The Syndicate … they’ve got somethin’ more dangerous than we’ve ever seen. That beast they brought — it’s a dragon like none I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Hiccup’s thoughts returned to the monstrous dragon he’d seen on the cliffs, the one Freya had unleashed upon them. He could still hear its guttural roar echoing in his ears, still feel the raw terror it had stirred in him. They weren’t just fighting soldiers — they were fighting a force of nature, a weapon that could wipe Berk off the map.
“We need a plan,” Hiccup said, his voice steady, though inside he felt anything but. “We can’t fight that thing head-on, not without losing everything.”
Fishlegs spoke up, his voice shaky. “What about the dragons? Maybe we could use them somehow. They know how to fight, and we still have some of the strongest dragons on our side.”
Hiccup nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea, Fishlegs. But we need more than just dragons. We need a way to really turn the tide.”
At that moment, Valka appeared from the shadows, her presence commanding despite the weariness in her eyes. She looked at Hiccup with both pride and concern. “Hiccup, you’ve always been the one to find solutions when there seemed to be none. But this time… this time you’re fighting more than just an army.”
Hiccup looked at his mother, the weight of leadership bearing down on him like never before. “I know, Mom. But I can’t let Berk fall. I can’t let Freya win.”
Valka stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. “This isn’t just about Freya, is it? It’s about Astrid.”
Hiccup’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name. “She’s… she’s not the same person anymore. I don’t even know who she is.”
Valka placed a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Astrid is still Astrid. But the choices she’s made… they’re her’s to life with now. You can’t save her from herself, Hiccup.”
Hiccup closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He didn’t want to admit it, but his mother was right. Astrid had made her choice, and now he had to make his.
“We can’t focus on her right now,” Hiccup said finally. “We need to focus on stopping Freya’s army. And if we don’t, there won’t be anything left to save.”
Valka nodded, understanding the burden her son was carrying. “Then let’s prepare. We’ll need everyone for this fight — dragons, warriors, and anyone still willing to stand for Berk.”
Hiccup spent the next few hours preparing for what felt like the final battle. The villagers who could still fight armed themselves, while the dragons circled the skies above, restless and eager to defend their home. Toothless remained at Hiccup’s side, his deep green eyes filled with fierce determination.
Snotlout, covered in soot and sporting a few new bruises, swaggered over, his usual bravado tempered by the gravity of the situation. “Alright, Hiccup, what’s the plan? We take the fight to them, or what?”
Hiccup glanced at Snotlout, appreciating his enthusiasm despite everything. “We can’t afford to charge head-on. Freya’s army is too strong, and that dragon of hers… it’ll tear us apart if we’re not careful.”
Snotlout grinned, though the weariness was visible beneath his cocky exterior. “What’s a giant dragon compared to the great Snotlout? We’ll take it down, no problem.”
Tuffnut and Ruffnut, who had been bickering nearby, chimed in simultaneously. “We could use our dragons to sneak up behind them!” Ruffnut said, while Tuffnut added, “Yeah, and then BAM! Fire everywhere! They won’t see it coming!”
Hiccup smiled faintly despite the situation. “We’re going to need something more than the element of surprise. We need to outsmart them, not just overpower them.”
Gobber, overhearing the conversation, approached with a serious expression. “There’s no outsmartin’ Freya, lad. She’s cleverer than you think. But there is one thing you’ve got on your side that she doesn’t.”
Hiccup raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Gobber grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Heart. Freya’s fightin’ for power, but you’re fightin’ for somethin’ much bigger — your home. That’s somethin’ that can’t be taken down by any dragon, no matter how big.”
Hiccup nodded slowly, letting Gobber’s words sink in. He wasn’t just fighting for Berk — he was fighting for everything he loved, everything he had built with his friends and family. Freya could never understand that.
As dawn began to break, the tension in the air grew thicker. Freya’s forces were amassing their fleet in the ocean near the far side of the island, preparing for their final assault. Hiccup stood at the edge of the village, his eyes scanning the horizon. Toothless was tense beside him, his wings twitching in anticipation.
“Are you ready?” Valka asked, stepping up beside him.
Hiccup nodded, though inside he felt the weight of the coming battle pressing down on him. “I have to be, we all have to be.”
Valka placed a hand on his arm. “No matter what happens, Hiccup, you’ve done everything you could. Your father would be proud of you.”
Hiccup swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”
Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath their feet. From the far side of the island, Freya’s army made landfall — soldiers marching in formation, dragons flying overhead, and at the center of it all, the massive beast that had sent shivers down Hiccup’s spine the night before.
It was time.
Hiccup mounted Toothless, his heart racing. He glanced at his mother, Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, and Gobber — his friends, his family, his people. They were all standing with him, ready to fight, ready to defend their home.
“Toothless, let’s go,” Hiccup whispered, and they shot into the air, the wind whipping past them as they flew toward the oncoming army.
The clash was instantaneous. Dragons collided in midair, fire and lightning streaking across the sky. On the ground, Berk’s warriors met Freya’s soldiers with a fierce determination, their battle cries echoing through the air.
Hiccup and Toothless darted through the chaos, dodging enemy dragons and raining down plasma blasts on the Syndicate ’s forces. But as they fought, Hiccup’s eyes kept drifting back to the massive dragon, Tenebris Rex, in the distance — the weapon Freya had created to end this war.
That beast was the key. If they could take it down, Freya’s forces would falter. But getting close enough to attack it was a different story. The creature was surrounded by a ring of Freya’s most elite warriors, and it was too dangerous to engage head-on.
Toothless let out a warning growl as a group of enemy dragons dove toward them, their riders brandishing weapons. Hiccup veered sharply, directing Toothless to fire off a blast that sent the attackers scattering.
“We need to get to that dragon,” Hiccup muttered, his mind racing. But every time they tried to approach, more of Freya’s forces blocked their path.
Suddenly, a familiar figure shot past them — Astrid, riding Stormfly, her face set in grim determination. For a moment, Hiccup’s heart leaped with hope. Maybe she was coming to help, maybe she had seen the truth.
But that hope was dashed when Astrid launched a volley of spikes toward them, forcing Toothless to dodge. She wasn’t here to help — she was here to stop him.
Hiccup barely managed to steer Toothless away from the incoming spikes. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Astrid, his heart sinking deeper with every passing second. Her face was cold, her eyes hard — there was no trace of the Astrid he once loved.
Toothless let out a low growl, sensing Hiccup’s unease. He wanted to go after Astrid, to get answers, but there was no time. Freya’s forces were closing in, and the enormous dragon in the distance was still slowly but surely stalking its way to the village.
Hiccup clenched his fists around the reins. He couldn’t afford to let emotions cloud his judgment now. He would deal with Astrid later — but for his first priority, he had to stop Freya.
"Focus, bud," he murmured to Toothless, and the Night Fury responded by leveling out, his gaze locked on their next target.
Hiccup steered them toward the center of the battlefield, where the massive dragon loomed over everything. It roared, sending out waves of fire and destruction with every beat of its wings. Freya’s soldiers rallied around it, their battle cries mixing with the beast’s thunderous roars.
As they approached, a group of Freya’s elite soldiers spotted them and moved in to intercept. They rode sleek, battle-hardened dragons, each one adorned in the dark, imposing armor of the Syndicate .
Hiccup braced himself. “Hang on, Toothless.”
Toothless roared as he charged toward the Syndicate soldiers, his plasma blasts lighting up the sky. The enemy dragons responded with counterfire, their attacks coming fast and furious.
Hiccup maneuvered Toothless through the onslaught, dodging attacks and returning fire with precision. But the Syndicate soldiers were skilled, and their dragons moved with a deadly coordination that was hard to counter.
One of the Syndicate soldiers, a tall Viking with a jagged scar across his face, broke off from the group and flew directly at Hiccup. His dragon, a fierce-looking Razorwhip, snapped its metallic wings with a deafening crack as it dove in for the attack.
Hiccup barely had time to react before the Razorwhip was upon them, its sharp tail whipping toward Toothless with lethal force. Toothless twisted in midair, narrowly avoiding the strike.
The Syndicate soldier grinned, his eyes gleaming with malice. “You’re outmatched, Hiccup Haddock!”
Hiccup gritted his teeth, pushing Toothless to climb higher. “We’ll see about that.”
With a sharp command, Hiccup sent Toothless diving straight down, then pulling up just as the Razorwhip lunged forward. The move caught the Syndicate off guard, and before the soldier could recover, Toothless unleashed a powerful plasma blast that sent the Razorwhip spiraling out of control.
The Syndicate soldier cursed as he and his dragon tumbled from the sky, disappearing into the chaos below.
Hiccup didn’t have time to celebrate the victory. More Syndicate soldiers were closing in, and the massive dragon at the heart of the battlefield was still tearing through Berk’s defenses. They had to take it down before it was too late.
But just as Hiccup prepared to dive toward the beast, a familiar voice called out to him.
“Hiccup!”
He turned to see Fishlegs flying toward him on Meatlug, his face pale with worry. “We’ve got a problem! Freya got more reinforcements coming from the east!”
Hiccup’s heart sank. Reinforcements? They were already stretched thin trying to defend Berk. If more of Freya’s forces arrived, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
“We have to stop them,” Hiccup said, his mind racing. “If those reinforcements get through, Berk is finished.”
Fishlegs nodded grimly. “I’ll gather the others. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
Hiccup watched as Fishlegs flew off, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him harder than ever. He had to make a decision — and fast. Should he go after the reinforcements or focus on the monstrous dragon that was still tearing through the outskirts of the village?
He glanced down at Toothless, who was watching him expectantly. “What do you think, bud? The reinforcements or the beast?”
Toothless let out a low growl, his eyes flicking toward the massive dragon. He seemed to understand the importance of both, but his gaze lingered on the creature that had already caused so much destruction.
Hiccup nodded, making his decision. “We take down that bad boy down first.”
Hiccup urged Toothless forward, weaving through the chaos of the battlefield. The closer they got to the massive dragon, the more destruction they saw. Freya’s forces were rallying around it, using its sheer size and power to press their advantage.
As they approached, Hiccup could see Freya herself standing on a high ridge, her arms crossed as she watched the battle unfold. Her expression was cold and calculating, as though she already knew the outcome and was merely waiting for it to play out.
Hiccup’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t let her win.
Toothless roared as they dove toward the massive dragon, his plasma blasts aimed directly at its wings. The beast snarled in response, swatting at them with one massive claw, but Toothless was too fast. He darted around the attack, unleashing another barrage of blasts at the creature’s vulnerable spots.
The massive dragon roared in pain, its movements growing more erratic as Toothless continued the assault. But even as they pressed the attack, Hiccup could see that the beast wasn’t going down easily. Its scales were thick and nearly impervious to damage, and its sheer size made it difficult to land a decisive blow.
Hiccup cursed under his breath. They needed a new strategy — something that would take the beast down from their aerial confrontation for good.
He scanned the battlefield, his mind racing. There had to be a way to exploit the creature’s weaknesses. Its wings were too thick to damage directly, and its fire-breathing attacks were too powerful to engage up close.
Then it hit him. The tail. The creature’s tail was massive and heavily armored, but it was also slow-moving. If they could disable its tail, they might be able to stop it from attacking long enough to deal a fatal blow.
“Alright, Toothless,” Hiccup said, his voice steady. “We go for the tail.”
Toothless growled in agreement, and they dove toward the massive dragon once more. This time, Hiccup aimed their attacks at the creature’s tail, focusing on the joints where the armor was weakest.
The beast roared in fury as Toothless’s plasma blasts struck home, its movements becoming more frantic as it tried to fend them off. But Toothless was too fast, darting around the creature’s attacks with ease.
Finally, with a final blast, the massive dragon’s tail crumbled under the assault, its movements slowing as it struggled to stay in the air.
Hiccup didn’t waste a second. “Now, Toothless! Finish it!”
Toothless let out a deafening roar as he unleashed one final, powerful plasma blast directly at the creature’s exposed underbelly. The blast struck true, and with a thunderous crash, the massive Tenebris Rex collapsed to the ground, its body limp and lifeless.
The battlefield fell silent for a moment as the shock of the creature’s defeat rippled through Freya’s forces. But the silence was short-lived.
Freya’s voice rang out across the battlefield, cold and furious. “You think this is over, Hiccup Haddock? This is only the beginning!”
Hiccup looked up at her, his heart pounding. She was right. This wasn’t the end — it was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.
Notes:
Next Chapter done!
Hope you enjoyed it, H&T having a epic duel in the sky is always amazing. 😍
Greetings to you all and I hope we see each other in the next one!
Chapter 10: The Clash in the Skies
Summary:
The Berkian defenders are able to push the Syndicate forces back. Amidst the chaos Hiccup and Freya face off one on one.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Toothless’s wings beat hard against the turbulent air, the stench of smoke and burning wood filling Hiccup’s nostrils. The once-clear sky above Berk was now a dark, stormy swirl of ash and flame. He urged Toothless to climb higher, away from the chaotic ground battle below, to find a moment’s clarity in the madness. But there was no escaping the war that had come to his home.
The sounds of battle raged beneath them — dragons roared, swords clashed, and the shouts of warriors echoed over the hills of Berk. Toothless let out a low growl, his eyes scanning the horizon. Hiccup knew his dragon was tired, just as he was, but there was no time to rest.
From his vantage point, Hiccup could see the devastation the Syndicate had wrought. Villagers scrambled for cover as Syndicate dragons swooped down, breathing fire onto homes and scattering the defenders. His heart clenched in his chest. This wasn’t just another skirmish — it was an all-out invasion, designed to break Berk once and for all.
“Hang in there, bud,” Hiccup murmured, patting Toothless’s neck as they dove low, circling back toward the heart of the battle.
His eyes scanned the battlefield below, desperately searching for his friends. He caught sight of his mother, Valka, fighting fiercely alongside Cloudjumper, her dragon. They were diving into the fray, wings flaring, claws ripping through enemy ranks with a fury that left Hiccup momentarily awed. Valka and Cloudjumper were now one of Berk’s strongest weapons, but even she looked overwhelmed by the sheer number of the enemy forces.
Nearby, Gobber swung his hammerhand with determined ferocity, rallying the village’s defenders against the Syndicate foot soldiers that had stormed through the forest. The battle-hardened blacksmith’s shouts carried over the clamor, his usual wit and banter replaced by a grim focus. But despite their efforts, it was clear that Berk’s defenses were faltering.
Hiccup clenched his jaw. The weight of the moment hit him hard — if they didn’t find a way to turn the tide soon, Berk would fall.
Toothless rumbled softly, his sharp gaze locking onto a distant figure perched atop the cliffs overlooking the village. Freya, the leader of the Syndicate, stood tall and unmoving, her black-armored figure barely visible in the smoke. Even from this distance, Hiccup could see her commanding her forces, directing the waves of dragons that relentlessly battered Berk’s defenses. By her side was her dragon, a massive, battle-scarred creature with black scales that shimmered ominously in the dim light.
“She’s the one calling the shots,” Hiccup muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes. “If we take her down, maybe — just maybe — we can push them back.”
Toothless gave a low growl of agreement, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the next move.
“Alright, bud,” Hiccup said, his voice filled with determination. “Let’s end this.”
As Toothless ascended, climbing toward the high cliffs, Hiccup’s heart raced. Every ounce of strategy and experience he had learned over the years was being put to the test. Freya was unlike any enemy they had faced before — ruthless, cunning, and always not one, but two steps ahead.
But Hiccup couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Freya’s plan than just brute force. Her attack was calculated, exploiting every weakness Berk had, both physical and emotional. And Hiccup couldn’t help but wonder — how had she known exactly where and when to strike?
“We’ll figure it out later,” he muttered under his breath, focusing on the immediate task at hand. “Right now, we take her out.”
The wind howled as Toothless soared upward, his sleek black body cutting through the smoke and ash. As they neared Freya’s position, two Syndicate dragons swooped in from the sides, their riders shouting commands in a language unfamiliar to Hiccup. He didn’t have time to think — he and Toothless reacted on instinct.
“Toothless, bank right!” Hiccup shouted as the first dragon unleashed a stream of fire toward them.
Toothless rolled sharply to the right, avoiding the blast by mere inches. He twisted midair, plasma blasts firing from his mouth, striking one of the enemy dragons square in the chest. The dragon let out a deafening screech as it spiraled toward the ground, smoke trailing in its wake.
The second Syndicate dragon lunged toward them, claws extended. Hiccup held on tightly as Toothless spun to meet the attack, his tail lashing out in a fierce strike that knocked the enemy dragon off balance. The Syndicate rider barely had time to recover before another plasma blast sent them plummeting toward the battlefield below.
Hiccup’s breath came in short gasps, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as they finally broke through the Syndicate defenses. But there was no time to celebrate. Freya was still up ahead, her icy gaze watching them with unsettling calm.
As they landed on the cliff, Hiccup jumped off Toothless’s back, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. His hand instinctively moved to his badass, as Snotlout had once called it, fire-sword, Inferno, as he stared at the imposing figure standing before him. Freya stood tall, her black armor gleaming in the light of the flames below, her dragon — a monstrous creature with jagged scars and fiery eyes — standing protectively by her side.
“Freya,” Hiccup called out, his voice steady despite the storm raging around them. “It ends here.”
Freya’s lips curled into a cold smile. “You really think you can stop me, Hiccup Haddock?” she taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. “Berk is already mine. Your people are broken, your defenses crumbled. You’ve lost.”
“Not yet,” Hiccup shot back, tightening his grip on Inferno. “Berk is stronger than you think. We won’t go down quite so easily.”
Freya’s dragon let out a low, rumbling growl, its fiery eyes locked on Toothless, who growled back, baring his teeth in response. The tension between the two dragons was palpable, each one poised to strike at any moment.
“You and your Nightfury will bow down to me, I will take care of you, and my dragon will defeat that pathetic excuse of an Alpha!” Freya said in an already angered tone.
“What kind of species is your dragon anyways? I have never seen any other dragon of his kind?” Hiccup asked curiously, but without any intention of improving the tense atmosphere.
“Of course you have never seen an Arrowspirit like mine before because he is the only one in existence, he is a crossbreed of a Skrill and a Nightfury, two of the most powerful dragon species combined in one, which makes him the ultimate weapon against you. But while we’re already talking about weapons…”
Freya’s eyes narrowed as she drew her weapon — a long, curved sword that gleamed menacingly in the fading light. “Then let’s see how much fight you have left.”
Without warning, she lunged at Hiccup, her blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. Hiccup barely had time to react, raising Inferno to block the strike. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through his arms, but he held his ground, gritting his teeth as sparks flew from the fire clashing with metal.
Freya was fast — faster than anyone Hiccup had fought before. She moved with a fluid grace, her strikes coming one after another, each one designed to test his defenses. Hiccup was forced to rely on every bit of training he had ever received, his mind racing to anticipate her next move.
But Freya wasn’t just fast. She was strategic, her strikes calculated to push him back toward the edge of the cliff. Hiccup’s boots skidded against the loose rocks as he struggled to regain his footing.
“You’ve grown soft, Hiccup,” Freya sneered, her sword flashing as she aimed for his chest. “You don’t have the resolve to do what’s necessary. That’s why you’ll lose.”
Hiccup blocked her strike, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “You’re wrong,” he panted. “It’s not about strength or cruelty. It’s about protecting the people you care about and standing by your values.”
Freya’s eyes flickered with a brief hint of surprise, but her expression quickly hardened again. “You’re a fool,” she spat, swinging her blade in a wide arc.
Hiccup ducked under the strike, rolling to the side to avoid her follow-up attack. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. Freya was relentless, and he was growing tired. But he couldn’t afford to lose — not now, not when everything was at stake.
As Hiccup and Freya clashed swords, the two dragons finally lunged at each other, Toothless letting out a furious roar as he charged at Freya’s massive Arrowspirit. The two dragons collided with a thunderous crash, their claws slashing, teeth bared.
Toothless twisted and turned, using his speed and agility to dodge the enemy dragon’s heavy blows. But the larger dragon was strong, its strikes landing with brutal force. Toothless snarled in defiance, firing a plasma blast at point-blank range that sent the enemy dragon staggering backward.
But the black-scaled dragon wasn’t finished yet. It retaliated with a fiery breath that barely missed Toothless, the heat singeing the tips of his wings as he rolled to the side. The two dragons circled each other, their eyes locked in a deadly standoff.
Hiccup spared a glance at Toothless, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen Toothless pushed this hard before. But he couldn’t worry about that now — he had to trust that his dragon could handle the fight.
Freya’s laughter broke through Hiccup’s thoughts. “Look at your dragon, struggling like you,” she sneered, her sword flashing in the light of the burning village below. “Neither of you is strong enough to survive what’s coming.”
Hiccup met her eyes, his grip tightening on the hilt of Inferno. “You don’t understand strength, Freya. Strength isn’t cruelty or control. As I said before, true strength means fighting for what you believe in, protecting those you love and standing by your values.”
Freya’s smile faded into a cold mask. “Your pretty and cute little ideals are going to get you killed, Hiccup.”
She struck again, faster and more aggressive, forcing Hiccup to backstep toward the cliff’s edge. His muscles ached from the strain of parrying her blows, but he couldn’t falter now. Behind him, Berk burned. His people needed him.
With a quick pivot, Hiccup spun out of her attack’s path, slicing Inferno upward as he moved. The tip of his blade grazed Freya’s arm, drawing a line of blood. She snarled, retreating a few steps.
Hiccup took the chance to glance at Toothless again. The two dragons were locked in a vicious aerial struggle, with Toothless being handicapped and unable to fly he was darting in and out on the ground, trying to land hits while avoiding the larger dragon’s crushing attacks. It was a battle of endurance, and Hiccup knew it couldn’t last much longer.
Just then, a loud roar from the village below caught Hiccup’s attention. He spotted Valka and Cloudjumper, flanked by Fishlegs on Meatlug and Snotlout on Hookfang. They were driving back the remaining Syndicate forces, pushing them toward their boats docked at the beach. But the battle wasn’t over.
Gobber, armed with his hammer, directed the defenders to douse the flames threatening the homes still standing. The village was holding on by a thread, but Hiccup could see the resilience in his people. Berk wasn’t beaten yet.
Freya, sensing the shift in momentum, glared at Hiccup with venom in her eyes. “You may have delayed the inevitable,” she hissed. “But this is far from over.”
Before Hiccup could respond, Freya let out a sharp whistle, and her dragon broke away from its fight with Toothless, flying to her side. With a last, contemptuous glance, Freya mounted her Arrowspirit and took off, disappearing into the smoky sky.
Hiccup watched her retreat, his heart still racing. Toothless crawled up beside him, breathing heavily, his wings trembling from exhaustion. Hiccup patted his friend’s head, relief washing over him.
“Good job, bud,” he whispered, leaning against the dragon for support.
As the adrenaline slowly faded, Hiccup surveyed the damage below. Berk was still standing, but the cost had been high. His people were safe for now, but he knew this wasn’t the end. Freya would be back, and next time, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.
Valka flew up on Cloudjumper, landing beside Hiccup. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Hiccup nodded, though his expression remained grim. “We’ve won the battle, but the war is far from over.”
Valka placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be ready, Hiccup. Berk has survived worse. We’ll stand by you.”
Hiccup glanced at his mother, appreciating her strength. He turned to see Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins approaching on their dragons, tired but victorious. The teens had fought with everything they had, and despite their exhaustion, they smiled in relief.
Snotlout, always quick with a quip, raised an eyebrow. “So, are we done with the dragon army thing, or should I expect more surprises?”
Hiccup sighed, glancing at the horizon where Freya's retreating ships still sailed into the sunset. “For now we all deserve a little break, but I'm afraid this is only just the beginning.”
Not far away, on a remote island Freya landed in a secluded clearing where the remnants of her forces had regrouped. She dismounted her dragon, her face twisted in frustration. Hiccup had been more resilient than she expected, but that didn’t matter. He would fall eventually.
As she walked toward her command tent, her thoughts shifted to the figure lurking in the shadows of her mind — the real power behind the Syndicate, the one who had orchestrated this entire invasion from the start. Freya had her orders, and though she hated to admit it, she wasn’t the one truly in control.
The shadowy figure would reveal themselves soon, when the time was right. Freya would have her revenge on Hiccup and Berk, but the real battle was only beginning.
Freya clenched her fists, her gaze cold.
“Next time, Hiccup, you won’t be so lucky.”
Notes:
Hope y'all enjoyed reading this chapter!
Giving this story some love, even if it's just a Kudos, means a lot!
I wish you all a contemplative pre-Christmas season. <3 🎄
Greetings 👋🏼
Chapter 11: Fractured Trust
Summary:
While Freya's army regroups, Hiccup tries to figure out how to get his Girlfriend back, when out of the blue an familiar raven haired Girl makes her return.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sky above Berk mirrored Hiccup’s mood: dark, heavy, and ominous. He stood on the steps to the great hall, overlooking the reconstruction of his village and out at the sea, but his mind was focused on a different issue. Astrid’s betrayal. The image of her standing with Freya’s forces replayed in his head over and over. No matter how hard he tried, Hiccup couldn’t understand it — how had it come to this?
His hands tightened to fists. Toothless, sitting nearby, gave a soft whine, sensing his rider’s anger. The bond they shared meant that Toothless didn’t need words to know what Hiccup was feeling, and right now, the Night Fury was just as unsettled. The trust between Hiccup and Astrid had been a cornerstone of their journey together. Now, that trust was shattered.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, bud,” Hiccup muttered under his breath, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I never thought I’d have to fight her.”
Toothless responded with a low, rumbling growl. His emerald eyes reflected the bustling of people from the village below, a reminder of the countless nights they had spent preparing for battles — but never one like this. Not against someone he loved.
The distant sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Hiccup turned to see Gobber, his old mentor and friend, striding up the steps. The blacksmith’s face, usually brimming with warmth and humor, was somber.
“Hiccup,” Gobber said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “The others are gathering in the Great Hall. We need to talk.”
Hiccup nodded, pushing aside his swirling thoughts for the moment. There was no time to dwell. He knew that Freya’s army was regrouping, therefore growing stronger every day, and Berk needed a plan. He placed a hand on Toothless’ head, giving his dragon a reassuring pat before following Gobber up the steps.
The Great Hall was filled with a tense energy. Maps of the island and its surrounding territories were spread across the long wooden table, illuminated by the glow of the big fire and the torches. Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, Valka, the Berk council and a handful of trusted villagers stood around, murmuring among themselves. The arrival of Hiccup and Gobber drew all eyes toward the door.
“We need to move quickly,” Valka said without preamble, her voice calm but firm. “Freya’s forces are regrouping, and her strategies are unlike anything we’ve seen before. She’s not just relying on sheer numbers — she’s using the dragons in ways we’ve never could have predicted.”
Hiccup crossed his arms, standing at the head of the table. “She’s using new tactics. But what worries me the most is that Astrid knows our defenses. She’s been with us through every battle, every decision. Now she’s leading Freya’s attacks, and she’ll use everything she knows about Berk against us.”
Fishlegs frowned, scratching his chin as he looked at the map. “Astrid’s always been one of our best strategists. If Freya’s got her on her side, she’ll know exactly where our weaknesses are.”
Snotlout slammed his fist onto the table, his face twisted with frustration. “We can’t let that happen! Astrid or no Astrid, we have to protect Berk. She chose Freya, and now she’s our enemy!”
His harsh words stung, but Hiccup kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way right now. “Astrid’s not the enemy,” he said firmly. “She’s being manipulated. Freya’s twisted everything — Astrid’s loyalty, her sense of justice. But that doesn’t mean she’s lost to us forever.”
Ruffnut scoffed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “Well, she sure looked like she was enjoying that fight last time.”
Tuffnut snickered. “Yeah, she was throwing punches like she’s got something to prove.”
“Enough,” Hiccup cut in, his voice sharp. “This isn’t just about Astrid. Freya’s the real threat. And if we don’t act, Berk won’t stand a chance.”
Valka nodded in agreement, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Hiccup is right. We must defend Berk, but we must also find a way to break Freya’s hold over Astrid.”
Gobber, who had been quiet up until now, chimed in. “Well, lad, that’s all fine and good, but how do you plan to do that? If Astrid’s out there fighting for Freya, you’ll have to make some tough decisions.”
Hiccup met Gobber’s gaze, his heart heavy. He knew the truth of it, even if he didn’t want to face it. “We’ll focus on defending Berk first. But if there’s a way to reach Astrid, we’ll take it. I’m not giving up on her.”
The war council continued late into the night, with discussions of strategy, defenses, and potential weak points. Suddenly a loud knock disturbed the discussions when out of the blue Heather and her Razorwhip Windshear walked into the hall, her face pale and worried, but her resolve as strong as ever. She offered valuable insights into Freya’s forces, having seen their movements firsthand during her last scouting mission.
“We should set up ambush points along the eastern cliffs and I’ll send a terror mail to my brother to inform him about the battle, so he and some berserker warriors can come and help in the fight,” Heather suggested, pointing to a section of the map. “If we can funnel Freya’s dragons through these narrow passes, we’ll be able to take them by surprise.”
Valka nodded thoughtfully, tracing a finger along the map. “The terrain here works to our advantage. We can use the natural formations to slow their progress and strike from the air.”
“But we’ll need to be careful,” Fishlegs interjected. “Freya’s dragons are different from anything we’ve faced before. They’re not just following orders — they’re working together, more coordinated, almost like they’re part of some larger strategy.”
“That’s because they are,” Heather said, her voice grim. “Freya’s not just controlling them — she’s using them like an extension of herself. It’s like she can predict what you do before you even move.”
Hiccup clenched his fists. Freya’s power was growing, and with Astrid’s knowledge of Berk’s defenses, they were facing an uphill battle. But they couldn’t afford to hesitate. They needed to act, and they needed to act fast.
After the meeting, Hiccup found himself alone again, standing at the cliffs where the cool night breeze swept in from the ocean. He stared out at the horizon, his thoughts swirling like the churning waves below. Toothless was beside him, as always, offering silent support. But even Toothless couldn’t ease the weight pressing down on his heart.
The village was quiet now, the fires burning low as the people of Berk prepared for the fight to come. Hiccup knew they were counting on him. As their leader, their chief, he had to be strong — for them, for Berk. But the thought of facing Astrid on the battlefield tore at him. How could he fight the person he had trusted most?
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Hiccup whispered, his voice barely audible. He reached out, resting a hand on Toothless’ head. “What if I can’t save her, bud?”
Toothless nuzzled him gently, his large green eyes filled with understanding. He let out a soft, comforting rumble, as if to remind Hiccup that no matter what happened, they would face it together.
The sound of soft footsteps behind him made Hiccup glance over his shoulder. Heather approached, her face illuminated by the faint glow of the nearby torches. She moved quietly, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb the moment, but Hiccup could see the concern etched in her expression.
“I thought I might find you here,” Heather said, her voice soft. She came to stand beside him, staring out at the vast, dark ocean. “I heard that you always seem to come here when things get heavy.”
Hiccup let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... I guess old habits die hard.”
They stood in silence for a few moments, the night air filled with the distant sound of dragons’ wings as the village’s defenses were prepared. Heather’s presence was steady, and in a way, it was comforting. She had always been someone who understood the weight of leadership, the impossible choices that came with it.
“I know what you’re thinking, Hiccup,” Heather said, breaking the silence. “You’re wondering if there’s a way to avoid all this — if you can save Astrid without sacrificing Berk.”
Hiccup gave a small nod, not trusting his voice just yet. He didn’t need to say anything for Heather to know the battle raging inside him.
Heather turned to face him, her gaze firm but gentle. “I know you, Hiccup. You’ll do everything in your power to protect Berk and save her. But... you also need to be prepared. Astrid may not want to be saved.”
Her words hit him harder than he expected. Hiccup had been so focused on how to reach Astrid that he hadn’t allowed himself to consider the possibility that she might not want to come back. The idea left a heavy pit in his stomach.
“You think she’s gone?” Hiccup asked, his voice strained.
“I don’t know,” Heather admitted, her expression softening. “But Freya has a way of getting inside people’s heads, twisting their beliefs. You’ve seen what she’s done already. I just... I don’t want you to hold on to hope so tightly that it breaks you if she doesn’t come back.”
Hiccup’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his thoughts a whirlwind. The truth in Heather’s words was painful, but he knew she wasn’t saying it to be cruel — she was trying to prepare him for what might come. For what he might have to do.
“I can’t give up on her, Heather,” he finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “Astrid is... everything to me. If there’s even a chance I can bring her back, I have to try.”
Heather nodded, a small, understanding smile touching her lips. “I know. That’s what makes you a great leader, Hiccup. You don’t give up on the people you care about. Just... don’t lose yourself in the process.”
They stood there for a moment longer, side by side, the weight of the coming battle pressing down on them both. It was a rare, quiet moment in the clash that was about to descend on Berk. Heather placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze before stepping away.
“You’re not alone in this, Hiccup,” she said softly. “We’ve got your back. Whatever happens.”
As Heather turned and walked back toward the village, Hiccup felt a small spark of reassurance. He wasn’t alone — not with Toothless, and not with friends like Heather, Fishlegs, and the rest of the gang. Together, they would face whatever came. But the uncertainty of the future still weighed on him.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Tomorrow, when Freya’s forces arrived, he would have to make impossible choices. But one thing was certain — he wasn’t ready to give up. Not on Berk. Not on Astrid.
As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, casting a faint glow over the village, Hiccup could hear the distant sound of beating dragon wings. His heart raced as the rhythmic beat echoed through the air — a signal of Freya’s approach. She was coming, and with her, the battle that would decide Berk’s fate.
The village was already stirring, people rushing to their posts, readying the defenses. Dragons were taking to the skies, their wings casting long shadows across the ground. Hiccup stood tall, his resolve hardening.
Freya was coming, but so was Astrid. And no matter what it took, Hiccup was determined to protect Berk — and to bring Astrid home.
Notes:
Hello to everybody reading this Story,
I sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter, I must admit that it is one of my favorites.
With that out of the way I wish you all a merry Christmas, I hope you have contemplative holidays and a lovely time with your loved ones!🎄💙
Christmas Eve is on Tuesday here in Germany, which means that Chapter 12 will drop as usual on the next Saturday.
Greetings 🤗
Chapter 12: A Storm on the Horizon
Summary:
With the attack of the regrouped Syndicate Forces, Berk, again, finds itself on the brink of surrender. This frightening possibility would've become reality if it wasn't for a certain deranged Berserker and his Triple Strike saving the day.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first rays of sunlight barely touched the horizon when the sound of alarm horns pierced through the calm morning air. Berk was stirring to life, but not in the usual peaceful way. The Syndicate had come, and the village was about to be thrown into a battle that would decide its future.
Hiccup rushed through the main square, his heart pounding in his chest. All around him, villagers hurried to their positions, grabbing whatever weapons they could find and mounting their dragons. He could hear the sound of Gobber yelling orders and the frantic flapping of wings as the dragons took to the sky.
Toothless was already at Hiccup’s side, his pupils narrowing into battle-ready slits. The two of them had faced countless threats before, but something about today felt different. Freya’s forces were ruthless and more organized than any enemy they had faced.
“Hiccup!” Valka called from the other side of the square, running up to him, her staff in hand. “The Syndicate ships are approaching from the west. We need to get the villagers to safety!”
“I know, I know,” Hiccup muttered, already scanning the skies for signs of the approaching fleet. “I sent Snotlout and Fishlegs to organize the defenses at the cliffs, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut are keeping an eye on the north side. But we can’t hold them off for long — not without reinforcements.”
As if on cue, the sound of heavy wings beat through the air. Hiccup looked up, expecting the worst, but instead, he saw the familiar silhouette of Windshear, Heather’s Razorwhip, cutting through the sky. His heart lifted slightly.
Heather landed gracefully beside him, her expression grim. “They’re here, Hiccup. The Syndicate ships are almost at the shore.”
“I know,” Hiccup said, his voice tight with tension. “Did you manage to send word to Dagur?”
Heather nodded. “I did. He should be here soon, but we’ll have to hold them off until then.”
Hiccup grimaced. Dagur’s reinforcements would be a game-changer, but for now, they had to make do with what they had. He tightened the straps on his prosthetic leg and mounted Toothless, giving his dragon a firm nod.
“Let’s give them hell, bud.”
With a roar, Toothless leapt into the air, joining the other dragons circling above Berk. From the sky, Hiccup could see the Syndicate ships creeping closer, their black sails standing out starkly against the blue water. Freya’s forces were not holding back.
“Form up!” Hiccup yelled, directing the villagers to their battle positions. He could see Fishlegs on Meatlug, nervously adjusting his grip on his weapon, while Snotlout, ever confident, was already barreling towards the enemy with Hookfang.
As the first wave of Syndicate soldiers landed on the shore, the battle began. The air was filled with the clash of weapons and the roars of dragons, and Hiccup quickly found himself in the thick of it. Toothless darted between enemies, firing plasma blasts and dodging arrows as they tried to knock him out of the sky.
Freya’s soldiers were well-trained and relentless. Hiccup slashed through a group of them with Inferno, his weapon burning brightly in the early morning light. But no matter how many they took down, more seemed to pour in from the ships.
“Hiccup!” Heather’s voice cut through the noise. She was fighting alongside him, Windshear slicing through enemies with her razor-sharp tail. “We can’t keep this up for long! Dagur needs to hurry up!”
Just as she spoke, a loud war cry echoed through the sky. Hiccup looked up in time to see a large dragon barreling toward the battlefield, followed by a small fleet of Berserker ships.
“Dagur,” Hiccup breathed, a wave of relief washing over him.
Dagur landed in the middle of the chaos, leaping off Sleuther with his trademark wild grin. Behind him, Berserker warriors poured out of their ships, rushing to join the fray. They quickly clashed with the Syndicate soldiers, turning the tide of the battle in Berk’s favor.
“Berk’s favorite Berserker has arrived!” Dagur shouted, swinging his ax at a nearby soldier. “I told you, Hiccup! You can’t keep me away from a good fight!”
Hiccup smiled despite the ongoing battle. “You’re just in time, Dagur.”
Dagur clapped him on the back with a grin, before charging headfirst into the battle, his laughter echoing above the sounds of clashing steel. The Berserkers were a chaotic force, but their strength and unpredictability were exactly what Berk needed right now.
For a moment, it seemed like they might have a chance. With the Berserkers fighting alongside them, the Syndicate forces were pushed back towards the shore. Hiccup could see the frustration on the faces of the enemy soldiers as they struggled to hold their ground.
But then, just as quickly as hope had surged, it began to fade. More Syndicate soldiers emerged from the remaining ships, and Freya’s voice could be heard shouting commands from the main vessel. She was playing a long game, and Hiccup knew she wouldn’t make it easy.
As the battle dragged on, exhaustion began to creep into Hiccup’s limbs. He and Toothless had been fighting for what felt like hours, and every strike of Inferno felt heavier than the last. He glanced over at Heather, who was still holding her own, but even she was starting to slow down.
Just as the battle seemed to tilt in their favor with Dagur’s arrival, Hiccup felt a sudden impact to his head. His vision blurred for a moment before he staggered back. Before he could regain his balance, a group of Syndicate soldiers surrounded him, seizing the opportunity. Toothless, preoccupied with fending off another wave of soldiers, couldn’t reach him in time.
Hiccup swung his sword desperately, but the dizziness was making it hard to stay upright. A Syndicate soldier grabbed him from behind, twisting his arm painfully while another knocked Inferno from his grasp.
“Got him!” one of the soldiers shouted, as they forced Hiccup to his knees.
Hiccup struggled against them, but it was no use. More soldiers poured in, overwhelming him. He felt his knees hit the dirt, his vision spinning again as the sound of the battle faded around him.
“Get him onto the boat!” another voice barked.
Toothless roared, trying to blast through the soldiers, but a volley of arrows kept him at bay. Hiccup barely registered the sharp pain in his side as one of the soldiers slammed his shoulder into the ground, pinning him in place. The world around him dimmed, the weight of unconsciousness pulling him down.
The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of chains being fastened around his wrists.
Notes:
Dear everyone reading this note, I thought it would be quite suitable for this Chapter to end with an Cliffhanger, because this chapter is also the last chapter being uploaded this year. For me 2024 was a great year with many unforgettable moments, I was able to accomplish many targets I set for myself. (One of those was to publish my first FanFiction)
I wish you a happy new year and much success in the fast approaching 2025! <3
Cheers! 🎆🔥🧨💙
Chapter 13: Turn the Tides
Summary:
While Hiccup gets captured and kidnapped by Syndicate Soldiers, Berk struggles to hold their defenses, could an old ally, that turned up at the right time and the right place maybe Turn the Tides in Hiccups favour?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Hiccup’s head throbbed as he slowly regained consciousness. Blinking through the fog clouding his vision, he realized he was lying against a stack of crates near the docks, half-hidden from view. The air was thick with smoke, and the sounds of battle — shouts, clashing steel, and dragon roars — echoed all around him. He saw Toothless nearby, fiercely holding off a group of Syndicate soldiers, his plasma blasts barely keeping them at bay.
Gritting his teeth, Hiccup forced himself to his feet, steadying himself against the crates. He remembered the relentless Syndicate soldiers, their coordinated movements as they attacked Berk, and the moment he’d nearly been captured. Someone had saved him, dragged him to safety amidst the chaos.
But he had no time to puzzle over it now. Toothless was outnumbered, and the Syndicate were closing in fast. Summoning his strength, Hiccup sprinted forward, raising Inferno and slashing through the soldiers threatening his dragon.
After taking down at least ten enemy soldiers he finally reached his dragon,
“We’ve got this, bud!” Hiccup called, trying to reassure both Toothless and himself.
Together, they held their ground, fighting back the soldiers with every ounce of strength they had left. But it was clear they were losing ground. The Syndicate pressed on, more soldiers appearing with every step, as if intent on overpowering Berk’s defenders through sheer numbers and force. Hiccup’s left arm ached, and exhaustion gnawed at him as he struck down yet another soldier.
A Syndicate soldier shoved his shield into Hiccup’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and forcing him back. He staggered, barely able to raise Inferno as another soldier closed in, sword raised to deliver a finishing blow. Just as Hiccup braced himself for impact, a powerful voice cut through the chaos.
“Get lost, you miserable dogs!”
Hiccup barely had time to register the words before a tall, dangerous figure charged into the fray, dispatching two Syndicate soldiers in a single, powerful strike. The surrounding soldiers faltered, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected newcomer.
When Hiccup’s vision cleared, his eyes widened.
“Alvin?”
Standing before him was Alvin the Treacherous, ax gleaming with fresh blood as he surveyed the battlefield with a fierce grin.
“Thought you could use a hand, Hiccup,” Alvin said gruffly, giving Hiccup a nod. “You’ve gotten yourself into a real mess this time.”
Before Hiccup could respond, the thundering sounds of Outcast warriors charging into battle filled the air. Hiccup looked up, seeing two ships moored along the docks, each stacked with Outcast soldiers who had already leaped ashore, weapons drawn as they fought their way into the heart of the village.
Hiccup couldn’t help the swell of relief and gratitude that surged through him. Alvin hadn’t come alone. He’d brought reinforcements, and they were throwing themselves into the fray with the same determination he remembered from the old days.
“Alvin…” Hiccup began, but Alvin cut him off.
“Talk later. Right now, we’ve got some Syndicate boyos to deal with.”
With that, Alvin charged forward, his ax swinging in wide arcs as he mowed down Syndicate soldiers with deadly precision. Hiccup nodded, summoning his remaining strength as he and Toothless joined the fight, pushing the soldiers back from the docks.
Meanwhile, on the far side of the village, Dagur and Heather fought side by side, their movements fluid as they worked in perfect harmony. Heather rode atop her dragon, Windshear, her expression grim and focused as they sent volleys of fire into the ranks of Syndicate soldiers attempting to breach the village walls. Windshear’s sharp scales glittered in the sunlight, slicing through enemy lines like a blade.
Below, Dagur fought on foot, his twin axes a blur as he tore through the Syndicate ranks. His laughter echoed across the battlefield, wild and fierce as he reveled in the heat of battle.
“Come on, you spineless worms!” Dagur shouted, grinning as he felled another soldier. “You think you can take Berk from us?”
Heather watched him from above, a faint smile crossing her face. Despite the chaos around them, she felt a sense of calm, a sense of purpose. She and Dagur had spent months on Berserker island preparing for moments like this, fighting side by side to protect the people they cared about. And today, they would defend Berk with everything they had.
Around them, the Berkian crew fought with fierce determination. Snotlout, atop Hookfang, let out a whoop of excitement as he dove into the chaos with his butt on fire, his dragon’s fiery breath scattering the Syndicate soldiers below. Fishlegs, clinging to Meatlug, fired bursts of lava at the soldiers, his usually gentle expression hardened with resolve.
“Come on, Meatlug!” Fishlegs urged, his voice filled with an intensity rarely heard. “Let’s show them what we’re made of!”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut swooped down on Barf and Belch, cackling as they shrouded the enemy ranks into Zippleback gas, as they ignited the gas, the massive explosion scattered the Syndicate soldiers and left them dazed.
“Think you can mess with Berk?” Tuffnut shouted, grinning maniacally.
“Not on our watch!” Ruffnut added, high-fiving her brother as they launched another round of explosions.
Despite their best efforts, the Syndicate soldiers pressed on, their coordination and discipline making them a formidable opponent. But with Alvin’s reinforcements joining the battle, the Berkian defenders held their ground, refusing to let the Syndicate breach the village walls.
At the center of it all, Freya stood with a commanding presence, her dark braids whipping in the wind as she directed the Syndicate soldiers with swift, decisive gestures. Astrid stood beside her, her face cold and unyielding as she relayed Freya’s orders, coordinating the attack on the south of the town with ruthless efficiency.
Hiccup’s heart twisted as he watched Astrid from a distance, his mind struggling to reconcile the girl he’d loved with the warrior now leading the assault on his home. But as he observed Freya, he noticed something odd — a flicker of hesitation in her expression, a brief moment where she seemed to question her own orders. She glanced toward the horizon, as if seeking something in the distance, her brow furrowing with doubt.
Astrid, however, didn’t appear to notice. She continued bellowing orders to the soldiers without question, her focus unwavering. If she sensed anything unusual about Freya’s behavior, she gave no sign, her loyalty to the Syndicate evidently intact.
As the battle wore on, Hiccup found himself fighting side by side with Alvin, the two of them driving the Syndicate soldiers back from the docks. Toothless gave them cover as he fired plasma blasts, breaking up enemy formations as the Outcast warriors pushed forward.
Alvin turned to Hiccup, his eyes hard as he took in the carnage around them. “Where’s Stoick?” he shouted while taking down yet another enemy soldier, his voice barely audible over the noise of battle.
Hiccup’s heart tightened, the grief he’d buried surfacing with brutal force. He lowered Inferno, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Alvin’s question.
“He’s gone,” Hiccup said softly, his voice catching. “He died… protecting me. It’s been over two months.”
Alvin’s face fell, and for a moment, the fierce warrior looked like a man haunted by the memories of his oldest friend. He stared into the distance, lost in thought before nodding slowly, his expression hardening.
“He was a good man,” Alvin murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “One of the best I ever knew.”
They shared a quiet moment amidst the chaos, a silent understanding passing between them. For the first time, Hiccup felt as if he wasn’t alone in carrying the weight of his father’s legacy.
But there was no time for mourning. The Syndicate soldiers were regrouping, their ranks tightening as they prepared for another assault. Hiccup’s gaze shifted to the outskirts of the village, where a group of Syndicate soldiers were attempting to seize hostages, dragging Berkian villagers toward their boats.
Hiccup’s heart pounded as he tried to intercept them, but he was too far away, and the soldiers were moving quickly. Just as he feared the worst, Alvin charged forward with a roar, his ax swinging in deadly arcs as he cut down the soldiers holding the villagers.
The hostages scrambled to safety, and Alvin stood over them, breathing heavily as he surveyed the battlefield.
Hiccup felt a surge of relief and gratitude as he watched Alvin in action. Together, they had managed to protect the villagers and hold the line, if only for now.
As the Syndicate began to retreat, Hiccup took a moment to catch his breath, glancing around to assess the state of the battlefield. Both sides were regrouping, gathering their forces for the next clash.
Alvin turned to him, his face grim but determined. “This isn’t over,” he said. “They’ll be back, and they’ll be twice as fierce. But you and I — we’ll be ready for them.”
Hiccup nodded, feeling a renewed sense of resolve as he looked around at the people fighting to protect Berk. The outcasts, together with the berserkers, and alongside the villagers and dragons, held the line, standing shoulder to shoulder against the Syndicate forces.
As the two sides drew back to regroup, the battlefield fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the distant cries of dragons and the occasional clash of weapons as stragglers were rounded up. The villagers took the opportunity to tend to the wounded, regroup, and brace themselves for the next wave.
Hiccup met Alvin’s gaze, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Alvin. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”
Alvin waved a hand dismissively, his old and grim face softening just slightly. “This is my fight too, lad. Stoick may be gone, but Berk will always be my home — whether you like it or not.”
Hiccup chuckled, relief replacing some of the tension from his body. For the first time since the battle had begun, he felt as if they might just have a chance.
He glanced across the battlefield, his gaze settling on the spot where Freya and Astrid last stood. Despite the small victory they’d managed, he knew the Syndicate wouldn’t give up so easily. Berk was far from safe. But with Alvin, Dagur and all of his most trusted friends by his side and the defenders of Berk ready to fight until the end, Hiccup was more determined than ever to protect his home.
Notes:
Thanks for reading, we finally got Alvin!
Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated <3
Chapter 14: The Queen
Summary:
With renowned forces, the Dragon Riders drive the enemy back, with the arrival of another old ally and hesitation by Freya, Hiccup finds himself on the brink of victory.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The early morning light filtered through the smoke and chaos left by the Syndicate’s retreat, casting an eerie, quiet calm over Berk. The defenders of the island were taking advantage of the brief respite, quickly regrouping to prepare for the next onslaught. Hiccup, still winded from the recent battles, moved through the gathering of warriors, dragons, and villagers, checking on each ally and tending to the wounded.
As Hiccup took stock of the damage to Berk, a loud, familiar war horn echoed from the harbor, sending everyone’s heads snapping up. From the edge of the overlooking cliff, Hiccup saw three boats in formation, gliding smoothly over the water with a majestic aesthetic towards the shoreline of Berk. Standing at the bow of the lead vessel was a tall, muscular man with a huge and intimidating looking ax strapped to his back — Throk, the loyal warrior of the Defenders of the Wing. Beside him was none other than Mala, Queen of the Defenders of the Wing, each ship was stacked with the most skilled and experienced warriors the Defenders of the Wing had in stock.
Heather gasped, eyes lighting up as she recognized the familiar figures. “They came!”
Hiccup’s face broke into a relieved grin. “Looks like we have a bit of luck left!”
As Throk and Mala’s ships docked gracefully in the Berkian port, Mala dismounted the boat and immediately approached Hiccup, her expression as solemn and commanding as ever. Behind her, Throk and the other warriors stood with their weapons, each giving silent nods of respect to Berk’s defenders.
“We received the terror-mail,” Mala said, her voice steady and unwavering. “It seems Berk has yet again become a battlefield.”
Hiccup nodded, appreciation heavy in his gaze. “We need all the help we can get. Thank you, Mala.”
She nodded curtly. “The Defenders of the Wing do not abandon their allies in times of need.”
The villagers around them murmured in relief, knowing the strength Mala and her warriors brought. The relief on everyone’s faces was palpable, but no one’s grin was as big as Snotlout’s, who swaggered over, trying to make himself appear taller.
“Well, well, look who decided to join the party!” he announced, his usual bravado fully restored. “With the great Snotlout here, plus you, Mala, I’d say we’re pretty much unstoppable.”
Throk rolled his eyes, muttering something about Snotlout’s ego, but Mala actually cracked a small smile. “Indeed, Snotlout. I’m sure we can all count on your… unique skills.”
The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, immediately saw an opportunity and sauntered over to Snotlout, mimicking his swagger. “Oh, yeah, Snotlout’s got this,” Tuffnut said with exaggerated awe.
“Yeah, why don’t you lead the next charge all by yourself?” Ruffnut added, smirking.
Snotlout scowled, crossing his arms as Fishlegs laughed. “At least I don’t spend my time trying to set fires with my dragon’s gas!”
Gobber, who had been sharpening his prosthetic ax nearby, barked a laugh. “Snotlout leading a charge — now that’s something I’d pay to see!”
The laughter rippled through the group, even lifting some of Hiccup’s own tension. As the others traded light-hearted jabs, Hiccup felt a fleeting, precious moment of normalcy in the midst of all the chaos. It wasn’t long before Alvin, his gruff voice cutting through the chatter, reminded everyone of the reality at hand.
“We’re still in the thick of it, lads and lasses. Syndicate’s bound to come back, and we can’t leave anything to chance.”
Dagur nodded, crossing his arms as he addressed the crowd. “Alvin’s right. We may have won a small skirmish, but those Syndicate soldiers are relentless. We need a plan to hold them off for good.” After this he walked off to greet his wife, mala, to talk to her about possible plans to defend the isle.
Hiccup stepped forward, nodding in agreement. “We’ve got a chance here to turn this around, but it’ll take every one of us doing our part.” He looked at each of his friends and allies in turn. “Gobber, Valka, I’ll need you both on the front line, coordinating the ground defenses.”
Gobber’s face took on a fierce determination, tightening the prosthetic ax on his arm. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, lad.”
Valka, with her own quiet strength, nodded. “I’ll make sure every dragon and human is in position.”
Hiccup turned to the gang. “Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut — you’re going to focus on aerial defenses. The Syndicate got quite a few skilled dragon riders of their own, and we need you up there keeping them off our backs.”
Snotlout’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “Oh, you can count on me, Hiccup! They won’t know what hit ’em.”
Heather and Dagur exchanged a glance, and Heather spoke up. “What about us?”
Hiccup smiled at her and Dagur. “Heather, you know the terrain around Berk better than most. I need you leading a scouting team to warn us of any incoming forces. Dagur, I want you with her. You both know how to spot trouble before it gets here.”
Dagur grinned, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Now you’re speaking my language, Hiccup!”
Mala, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. “And we will do as we always have — defend the skies with our special blowpipes.” She placed a hand on Throk’s shoulder, and he nodded in agreement. “We’ll cover the eastern cliffs. They won’t slip past us.”
With the plan falling into place, a resolute determination took over the group. Each person, armed with their task, moved with purpose. Hiccup watched them go, his heart swelling with pride and gratitude.
Freya paced back and forth in the captain’s quarters of the Syndicate ship, the waves gently rocking the vessel. Outside, the rest of the soldiers regrouped, tending to their wounds and repairing their armor for the next assault. Astrid, however, was less patient.
“We should be going back there right now,” Astrid said sharply, her tone laced with frustration. “You said Berk would fall after one attack, now we’re already preparing for the third! The orders of the boss were clear, go to Berk and take it. You promised me leadership but I’m now starting to question your abilities, because here we are, licking our wounds.”
Freya paused her pacing, staring out the porthole with a troubled look. “Astrid, we’ve already lost many men, and Berk’s defenses are stronger than we expected. We need to be strategic, not rash, you’ll get what you deserve when the time is right.”
Astrid scoffed, folding her arms defiantly. “Strategic? We have the advantage! With each attack, we weaken them a little more. If we keep pressing, we’ll break them, but we can’t afford to give them so much time to regroup.”
Freya clenched her fists, torn between loyalty to her orders and the nagging doubts creeping into her heart. She’d seen the determination in Berk’s defenders, the fire in their eyes. The Syndicate’s orders had been clear, but something about this constant bloodshed felt… wrong.
“You were ordered to bring Berk down,” Astrid pressed, her gaze unyielding. “Are you questioning those orders now?”
Freya hesitated, a rare moment of vulnerability flashing in her eyes. “I just wonder… all this destruction. At what cost, Astrid? Is this fighting really worth all the casualties and the destruction?”
Astrid’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “Are you saying you don’t like the plans the boss has for Berk?”
Freya forced her face into a mask of neutrality. “Of course not. I’m just… weighing our options.” She looked out over the churning waves, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. “Berk won’t fall easily, and perhaps… there is another way.”
Astrid crossed her arms and shook her head. “The only way is forward. We finish this. Hiccup is standing in our way, and if you don’t have the stomach for it, maybe you should step aside.”
Freya’s eyes hardened at the jab, her jaw set. “Do not presume to question my resolve, Astrid.”
A tense silence fell between them, each woman’s loyalty pulling in different directions. Finally, Astrid stormed out, her mind already planning the next assault. Freya, left alone in the cabin, stared out over the dark sea, doubts clouding her once unshakable convictions.
With everyone stationed, the defenders waited in tense anticipation for the next move. Snotlout and the twins were perched atop their dragons, eagerly scanning the skies for the slightest hint of movement. Nearby, Fishlegs was instructing his dragon, Meatlug, to create barricades with her lava blasts, fortifying the village’s defenses.
Alvin watched the activity with a knowing grin, his warriors beside him. “The lad’s done good with this lot,” he murmured to himself, impressed by the unity among Berk’s defenders.
Hiccup, catching Alvin’s gaze, walked over. “Thank you again, Alvin. I mean it.”
Alvin waved him off, though he looked pleased. “I’m here to defend what’s right. And don’t think I’m done with Berk yet.”
Just then, Mala approached, her calm but formidable presence commanding everyone’s attention. “We’ve taken position on the eastern cliffs. Our warriors are ready.”
Dagur, overhearing, chimed in, “Just tell us when to charge, Hiccup. Me and Heather will be right on their tails.”
Hiccup looked around, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the people who had come to Berk’s aid. With Mala, Alvin, Dagur, and Heather by his side, along with the loyal villagers and dragon riders, he felt that they might have a fighting chance.
"Remember," he said, raising his voice to address everyone, "we’re not just fighting to defend Berk. We’re fighting for each other — for our families, our friends, and the future of our island."
A cheer rose from the gathered warriors and villagers, their voices blending together in a powerful show of unity. Dragons roared in response, their mighty calls echoing through the village.
As the final preparations were made, Hiccup exchanged a glance with Toothless, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation before battle. He knew that they would face more challenges, and possibly losses, but seeing everyone rally together reminded him that Berk was more than just a place—it was its people, its dragons, and the unbreakable bond they shared.
Freya remained at the window, her mind torn between the loyalty she’d shown to the Syndicate’s leader and the relentless guilt gnawing at her conscience. As she watched Astrid rally the Syndicate troops with fierce determination, Freya wondered how much longer she could hold onto her doubts before they consumed her.
Notes:
Thanks for reading, there are only a few more chapters to go, after that I'll take a break from publishing this chapters, because of the decreasing interest of the audience over the last weeks, I have yet to decide if I will continue this story.
Greetings
Chapter 15: A Final Reckoning
Summary:
The Syndicate start their final assault on Hiccups island, will the defenders be able to hold their ground or will Astrid tear Hiccup apart from the inside?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The winds howled over Berk as the sky darkened to a steely gray, thunder rumbling in the distance. Villagers hurriedly took their places, weapons drawn and nerves tense. Hiccup stood at the front lines, Toothless at his side, watching the incoming Syndicate ships as they loomed on the horizon. It was their mightiest assault yet, a final bid to bring Berk to its knees.
Alvin, Dagur, Heather, Mala, Throk, and all of Berk’s defenders readied themselves, their eyes fixed on the approaching enemy. The defenders of Berk knew this battle was different — the air buzzed with an almost electric tension, as if the island itself sensed what was at stake.
“Stand strong!” Hiccup called out, his voice echoing over the sound of the waves. He looked at the defenders around him, friends who had become family. “This is our home. We fight for it! We won’t back down!”
The defenders shouted in agreement, rallying their spirits as the Syndicate’s ships advanced. Astrid stood at the prow of the lead ship, her expression steely and determined. Behind her, Freya watched with a shadow of doubt in her eyes, but she shook it off, rallying her soldiers. For her, there was no turning back.
As the ships closed in, the Syndicate soldiers poured onto the shore, clashing with the defenders of Berk in a chaotic dance of steel and fire.
Mala and Throk led a charge from the left flank, the Defenders of the Wing warriors joining with Berk’s to push back the invading soldiers. Mala fought with calculated precision, her every movement purposeful and deadly, combined with her dangerous long sword she took down enemy after enemy, while Throk with his big ax and his raw strength cut a swath through the enemy ranks.
“Hiccup, we have your back!” Throk called, his voice fierce.
Hiccup nodded in appreciation, watching as the defenders worked seamlessly alongside his own. Meanwhile, Gobber swung his prosthetic hammer, keeping Syndicate soldiers at bay near the blacksmith’s forge. His laughter, gruff and mirthless, echoed as he bashed another soldier back.
“You picked the wrong village to mess with!” Gobber yelled, his voice a battle cry.
At the edge of the village, Snotlout and Fishlegs fought side by side, their dragons barrelling through Syndicate soldiers. Meatlug charged ahead, slamming into a wave of enemy soldiers as Fishlegs gripped his ax, bellowing with surprising ferocity.
“Get off our island!” he roared, his usually gentle demeanor replaced by a fierce protectiveness.
The twins, meanwhile, cackled as they wove through the chaos on Barf and Belch, raining down Zippleback gas on the soldiers below.
“We’re unstoppable!” Ruffnut shouted.
“Yeah!” Tuffnut added. “Syndicate? More like Syn-lame!”
Their taunts rang out as they unleashed another round of destruction, forcing back anyone in their path.
In the village center, Dagur and Heather alongside Sleuther and Windshear fought side by side in an attempt to keep the Syndicate soldiers away from the entrance of the great hall in which the elders tended to the wounded and took care of the children.
As Heather swung back her double bladed ax she caught a glimpse of a very familiar person,
“Astrid” she said to herself as she killed the remaining soldiers in front of her. After dealing with her foes she separated herself from her brother and her dragon and ran off towards Astrid's last position.
“Heather, where are you going?” Dagur shouted after he saw his sister run off right into the heart of the battle.
“I have someone special to deal with” she shouted back, her voice lacing with venom.
As she turned around she found herself facing Astrid. Astrid’s expression was as cold as the winter sea, her jaw set in determination. Heather’s grip tightened on her weapon as she took a cautious step forward, her eyes pleading.
“Astrid, listen to me! You don’t have to do this. Berk is your home — these people are your family!”
Astrid’s mouth twisted into a sneer, but a flicker of pain crossed her eyes. “Family?” she scoffed. “I’m doing this for Berk, Heather. For what it could be.”
Heather shook her head, her voice desperate. “You’re destroying everything you once fought for. This isn’t who you are!”
But Astrid only lunged forward, her ax glinting in the stormy light. Heather blocked the attack, the clash of their weapons echoing. They fought fiercely, each strike charged with years of shared memories and unspoken hatred. Heather kept trying to break through to her, but Astrid’s heart had steeled itself.
“You can’t change my mind, Heather,” Astrid hissed. “Berk deserves a leader who will restore it to its true strength, no matter the cost.”
Their battle grew more intense, both women fighting as though their lives depended on it, neither willing to back down. But just as Heather managed to knock Astrid’s ax aside, Freya’s soldiers rushed in, forcing Heather to disengage.
Heather tried to struggle, but the soldiers overpowered her, dragging her toward a Syndicate boat. She fought with all her might, but exhaustion was setting in, and her struggles slowed.
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out over the din. “You’re not taking her anywhere!”
Heather glanced upwards, where the voice was coming from and saw a huge Rumblehorn flying towards the Syndicates soldiers.
Eret, Son of Eret, burst into view atop his dragon Skullcrusher, barreling into the soldiers with unstoppable force. As he jumped off the dragon that once belonged to none other than Stoick the Vast, he swung his weapon, knocking the soldiers back in order to free Heather.
“Eret!” Heather gasped, her relief evident.
“It seems like I just returned from my scouting mission right on time, eh?” Eret grinned, glancing at her with a roguish wink.
With Skullcrusher roaring and bashing his tail into the ground, Eret cleared the area of enemies, rallying Heather to his side. “Let’s turn this fight around, shouldn’t we?”
Together, they pushed through the thick of battle, heading toward the village square where the fighting had intensified.
As the defenders and the Syndicate forces clashed in the heart of Berk, the sky above them grew darker, thick clouds swirling overhead. Thunder rumbled, and the first droplets of rain began to fall, mingling with the blood and sweat of the warriors below. The storm seemed to echo the rage and despair of the battle unfolding beneath it.
Hiccup glanced up, noticing Toothless watching the darkening sky with an unusual intensity. The Night Fury’s eyes narrowed, as if he sensed something in the storm that Hiccup couldn’t.
“What is it, bud?” Hiccup murmured, but Toothless remained focused, his calculating gaze always dancing between the enemy soldiers and the clouds.
Amidst the battle, Hiccup and Alvin found themselves cornered by a squadron of Syndicate soldiers. Though they fought valiantly, the numbers were overwhelming. Just as Hiccup began to falter, Astrid appeared on Stormfly, hovering above them with a smug grin.
“Give it up, Hiccup,” she called down, her voice dripping with scorn. “You’ve lost. Berk is ours.”
Hiccup glared at her, his chest heaving with exhaustion and defiance. “I won’t let you take Berk, Astrid. Not like this.”
But Astrid merely laughed, circling above them like a hawk. “Then you’re more foolish than I thought. This island deserves a real leader, one who understands what strength and power means.”
Before she could say more, however, a sudden flash of light streaked across the sky. Lightning bolts shot down, striking several Syndicate ships in rapid succession. The wood splintered, the ships erupting into flames as the bolts continued to rain down with unerring precision.
Hiccup’s eyes widened in shock and awe. “That… that’s not natural.”
As he watched, realization dawned on him. The lightning wasn’t coming from the storm — it was being controlled, aimed directly at the Syndicate’s reinforcements.
“Toothless,” he whispered, “that’s a Skrill.”
As if on cue, the familiar dragon drove through the thick clouds blasting another Syndicate ship, full of reinforcements, into oblivion. The outline of the dragon flashed, moving faster than Hiccup’s eyes could follow. Lightning crackled around it, each bolt tearing through another Syndicate vessel. The Skrill descended upon the remaining boats with fierce intensity, striking fear into the hearts of the Syndicate soldiers.
But as Hiccup looked closer at the Skrill as it hovered in the same spot for a moment, he could've sworn that he saw somebody ride the dragon… But as fast as it appeared the Skrill, together with all the lightning, went missing in the dark clouds again.
As the chaos unfolded, the defenders of Berk found renewed hope. Rallying together, they pushed the enemy back, inspired by the unexpected turn of events. The remaining Syndicate forces retreated, their lines broken and their spirits shaken.
As Freya watched the battle unfolding, the sight of her soldiers fleeing sparked a pang of pain in her chest. She glanced at Astrid, who was still fuming, her face twisted with anger.
“Freya,” Astrid hissed, “we have to keep attacking now! They’re on the ropes — this is our last chance!”
But Freya hesitated, her gaze lingering on the faces of the villagers defending their home. The doubt that had plagued her for days grew stronger, and for the first time, she wondered if this war was worth the cost.
“No, Astrid,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Astrid rounded on her, eyes blazing. “What do you mean, ‘No’? This is what we’ve been fighting for! You promised me leadership above Berk and I’ll get it one way or another! ”
Freya looked away, her face shadowed with guilt. She’d followed orders, done what she was told as necessary, but the sight of Berk fighting to protect its people made her question everything.
Just as the last Syndicate soldiers were pushed back, Hiccup, Alvin, and the others regrouped in the town square. Hiccup’s gaze shifted, and he saw Astrid and Freya standing at the edge of the battlefield, watching him with a mix of anger and frustration. He also saw Freya's downcast, maybe even sad expression, which made him question the young woman's true intentions. The storm raged above them, thunder echoing through the sky, as the defenders and their dragons gathered for a final stand.
Hiccup stepped forward, Toothless at his side, locking eyes with Astrid. His heart ached with the weight of what had happened, his future wife he’d lost, and the fury that now stood in her place.
“This doesn’t have to end like this, Astrid,” Hiccup called, his voice rising above the storm.
Astrid’s expression hardened, her jaw clenched. “It ends only one way, Hiccup. Berk will fall.”
Beside her, Freya looked down, her brows knit with uncertainty, her once-unwavering resolve now fractured by doubt. The lightning above flashed, casting their faces in shadow, and for a moment, it seemed as though even the storm itself waited with bated breath.
The three stood there, warriors torn by loyalty, love, and betrayal, as the winds howled around them. The weight of the next confrontation hung in the air, thick with suspense.
And as the storm intensified, Berk held its breath, waiting for the final clash that would decide the fate of its people.
Notes:
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Chapter 16: The Final Stand
Summary:
The fight is won! What happens with Freya and what is Astrid going to do?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As the first light of dawn struggled through the intensifying storm clouds, Berk’s defenders held their ground, a line of resolve against the last remnants of the Syndicate. Across the battlefield, Hiccup faced off with Astrid and Freya, his heart a tumult of emotions. This was once his closest friend, someone who had shared his dreams of a peaceful Berk, someone he dreamt of marrying. Now she stood against him, her hardened expression a world away from the Astrid he had known.
“Astrid,” he called, his voice firm but weary. “This has to end. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
Astrid’s face twisted with bitterness, her voice dripping with disdain. “You think I’ll give up that easily? Berk needs strength, Hiccup, not the kind of softness you’ve brought to it. Under your rule, it’s weak.”
Beside her, Freya’s gaze wavered, her earlier confidence seemingly slipping away. The toll of her choices — the relentless battles, the innocent lives ended, the friends turned to enemies — had finally begun to crack her resolve. For a brief moment, she looked at Hiccup with something akin to regret. “Astrid,” she began, her voice softening, “please consider what I’m about to say: maybe he is right. Maybe it’s time to pull back. Berk is powerful in it’s own way, and they seem to be successful with their strategies up until now.”
Astrid shot her a furious glare. “Pull back? Are you serious?” Her eyes burned with fury, a look that seemed to dismiss Freya’s words as weakness. “You think I’m going to stop here? We’re on the brink of victory. Now is not the time to lose your nerve.”
Freya's face fell, and Hiccup noticed the briefest hint of hurt in her eyes. It was clear that Freya was struggling, the weight of her actions pressing down on her. But Astrid, undeterred, turned to the last of the remaining Syndicate soldiers and rallied them with a fierce shout. “Berk has stood in our way for too long! Show them no mercy!”
With Astrid’s command, the Syndicate’s leftover forces surged forward, charging with a reckless fury that bordered on desperation. Berk’s defenders met them head-on, a clash of steel and fire echoing across the storm-swept field.
Dagur and Heather fought side by side, cutting through the enemy with a brutal efficiency honed by years of training and battles. Alvin and his Outcasts held the front line with grim determination, their axes swinging in wide arcs as they formed an unbreakable shield against the Syndicate’s charge. Above them, Valka and Eret directed their dragons to strategic positions, cutting off any hope of retreat for the Syndicate.
With each passing moment, the Syndicate’s numbers thinned, and the Berkian defenders pushed them back, step by step. But even as victory seemed certain, Hiccup kept his eyes on Astrid, hoping she might finally see reason.
Just as he opened his mouth to demand her surrender, a low, ominous hiss filled the air. Hiccup felt the ground vibrate beneath him as two massive shapes descended from the storm clouds. The creatures that landed before them were unlike anything Berk had faced before.
The dragons were enormous, their muscular, armored bodies exuding an aura of lethal menace. They were covered in scales that gleamed with a toxic red sheen, and from their jaws dripped a thick, inky substance that left smoking pits in the ground where it landed. Their tusks, long and razor-sharp, jutted from their lower jaws like the fangs of some monstrous serpent, and their eyes held a cold, calculating malice that sent a shiver down Hiccup’s spine.
Deathgrippers
Atop each Deathgripper sat a rider clad in black armor, their faces obscured by helmets. One of them spoke in a voice muffled but sharp as a blade. “Freya, Astrid — come now. The boss demands your presence. For you, this battle is over.”
Astrid looked up at them, her expression resolute. Without a word, she ran to the nearest Deathgripper, gripping its venomous red scales and climbing up with practiced ease. She turned to look back at Hiccup, a sneer curling her lips. “Don’t think this is over, Hiccup. I will return, and next time, there will be no mercy.”
As the Deathgripper shifted under Astrid’s weight, Freya stood frozen, her gaze flickering between the riders and the villagers. Her face was a mask of conflict, torn between her loyalty to the Syndicate’s leader and the mounting horror at what her choices had led her to do. Hiccup saw her hesitation and felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman, seeing in her a mirror of the conflict he himself had once faced. She had been led down a dark path, much like he could have been if he’d made different choices.
“Freya,” he said gently, “it doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to go back to whoever is behind all this.”
But the rider’s voice cut through his plea. “The boss demands your presence, Freya. You come now, or you face his wrath.”
Freya’s shoulders slumped, a deep sadness shadowing her features. Yet as she looked back at Hiccup, something in her face shifted, a glimmer of defiance that hadn’t been there before. She shook her head slowly, then took a step back from the Deathgripper, her hands raised in silent surrender.
The rider sneered. “Very well. You’ve sealed your fate.” With a flick of his reins, the two Deathgrippers beat their powerful wings, lifting into the sky. Astrid’s voice echoed down to them one last time. “This isn’t over, Hiccup. You will fall. And when you do, I’ll be the one to watch you burn!”
The Deathgrippers vanished into the storm clouds, their shadowed forms melting into the darkness.
With the departure of Astrid and the Deathgrippers, the battle came to a swift close. Hiccup’s allies surged forward, securing the battlefield and rounding up the remaining Syndicate soldiers who were either surrendering or trying to flee. Amidst the remnants of the battle, Freya stood alone, her head bowed in silent resignation.
Heather stepped forward, placing a gentle but firm hand on Freya’s arm. “Come with me,” she said quietly, guiding Freya toward the village square. As they walked, Hiccup followed, his heart heavy. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of compassion for Freya. She had made terrible choices, but he could see the regret etched into her face. She wasn’t beyond redemption — she had simply lost her way.
When they reached the village square, Hiccup paused, glancing at Freya with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “You’re going to have to answer for what you’ve done,” he said softly, “but it doesn’t mean you can’t find a way back.”
Freya looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and something close to gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For… for giving me a chance, even after everything.”
Heather led her to a small cell, where she would await her trial. As the door closed, Hiccup stood outside, his mind reeling with conflicting emotions. Despite everything, he felt sorry for her — a pawn in a larger game, manipulated by forces beyond her control. He only hoped that, given time, she could find a path to redemption.
That evening, Berk’s defenders gathered in the Great Hall to celebrate their victory. The fire roared in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the exhausted but jubilant faces of the villagers. Gobber brought out barrels of mead, and the hall filled with the sound of laughter and cheers as friends embraced and shared stories of the battle.
Hiccup made his way through the crowd, stopping to thank Eret for his timely return. “You couldn’t have picked a better moment, Eret,” he said with a grateful smile. “I owe you a drink for today.”
Eret grinned, crossing his arms with a hint of pride. “Well, Skullcrusher and I aren’t ones to miss out on a fight. Besides, I couldn’t let Berk face this alone.”
As the celebration continued, each of Berk’s defenders had a moment to shine. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, were regaling a small crowd with exaggerated tales of their bravery, each story more outlandish than the last. Fishlegs was quietly tending to Meatlug’s wounds, his gentle hands and soft words a contrast to the earlier chaos of battle. Snotlout, not one to miss an opportunity, was loudly boasting about his role in the victory, drawing both eye rolls and laughter from his friends.
Hiccup took a moment to look around, his heart swelling with pride and gratitude for the people who had stood by him. They had faced impossible odds, yet they had emerged stronger, united by a bond that no enemy could sever.
As the night wore on and the celebration began to wind down, Hiccup found himself standing alone on the steps to the great hall, his gaze drifting to the darkened sky. His mind wandered back to the mysterious Skrill rider from the previous battle. The way the dragon had struck with precision, targeting the Syndicate’s boats — it was almost as if the Skrill rider had been watching over them, yet Hiccup couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a chance intervention. The rider’s skill and timing suggested an intent and knowledge that went beyond mere coincidence. Who was this unknown ally — or perhaps, adversary? The mystery gnawed at him, weaving through his thoughts even as the echoes of laughter and victory surrounded him.
Toothless nudged his hand, sensing his rider’s tension. Hiccup reached up to scratch behind his dragon’s ear, his expression thoughtful. “Whoever that was, bud… they’re someone to keep an eye on.” He sighed, feeling a strange mix of unease and gratitude. The battle was won, Berk was safe for now, but lurking in the shadows was someone whose intentions remained hidden.
As he gazed up at the storm clouds slowly dispersing above, Hiccup couldn’t help but feel that the Skrill rider’s appearance was a sign — one that hinted at a bigger threat yet to come. And as much as he wanted to rest, to revel in the hard-won peace, a small voice inhis mind whispered that Berk’s battles might only just be beginning.
Notes:
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Chapter 17: Rising from the Ashes
Summary:
The battle is won, but the war has just begun...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning sun cast a golden glow over Berk, illuminating the marks of battle that had yet to fade from the village. The smell of wood and soot filled the air as villagers worked side by side, rebuilding their homes, patching up their defenses, and tending to wounded dragons who perched patiently by their riders.
The villagers moved with an exhausted but determined energy, fueled by both relief and pride. Berk had survived the onslaught of the Syndicate, and it was thanks to the brave souls who fought for it, both Berkian and ally alike.
Hiccup stood at the docks, where several longships were prepared to depart. He took a moment to breathe it all in — the waves crashing against the shore, the smell of salt in the air, and the mingling laughter and solemn goodbyes from the people gathered around him. Despite the victory, Hiccup felt the pangs of departure.
Alvin the Treacherous, his face softened by an uncharacteristic warmth, clapped a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Well, boy, I’ve got to admit — you did your old man proud.” His eyes held a glimmer of something Hiccup rarely saw: respect. “Stoick would’ve been glad to see Berk in your hands. You’re still a bit green around the edges,” Alvin said with a smirk, “but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
Hiccup smiled, feeling touched by the compliment. “Thank you, Alvin. Berk couldn’t have done this without you and the Outcasts. You came through when we needed it most.”
Alvin gave him a small nod, and they shared a moment of quiet understanding. Behind him, three longboats filled with Outcast warriors stood ready to sail, each of them scarred but proudly bearing their wounds from the battle.
“Take care of yourself, lad. And don’t let those dragons make you soft,” Alvin teased, his usual roughness returning as he turned to board his ship.
Hiccup chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Dagur and Heather were next to approach, with Toothless nudging Hiccup’s side in recognition of their friends. Dagur’s fierce grin softened as he looked at Hiccup. “Well, brother-in-arms, looks like we made quite the team!”
“Yeah, we did.” Hiccup’s voice was full of gratitude. “Thank you, Dagur… for everything. I know this hasn’t been easy, and this victory came with a high cost. But you and Heather… you’ve given so much to help Berk.”
Dagur clasped Hiccup’s hand firmly. “Anything for you. And hey, if you ever need some extra muscle, you know where to find me.” He winked, his usual bravado shining through.
Heather hugged Hiccup tightly. “Take care of yourself, Hiccup. We’ll be back soon enough to check up on you and Berk.”
Watching them mount their Dragons, Hiccup felt a strange mix of sorrow and gratitude. Dagur, once his sworn enemy and rival, had become family. The bond they’d forged in battle alongside each other for all these years ran deep, and he knew it would endure.
Mala and Throk came forward next, their presence as steady as the island itself. Mala’s gaze held an almost regal pride as she looked at Hiccup. “Your resilience is a light to all who fight for what’s right,” she said, her voice calm but powerful.
“Mala,” Hiccup said, bowing his head slightly in respect, “you and the Defenders of the Wing saved us more than once. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Mala smiled warmly. “It was our honor. Berk is always fighting for justice, and it is a privilege to call you our ally. Remember, Hiccup, should you ever need aid again, the Defenders of the Wing will be at your side.” She turned to Throk, who gave Hiccup a respectful nod before following her to the boat.
As the longships sailed away, Hiccup felt the ache of their departure. Berk was resilient, yes, but it was strengthened by those who had fought beside it. As the horizon swallowed up the sails of his allies, he promised himself he would honor their sacrifices.
Turning back to the village, Hiccup was greeted by the sight of his friends and family hard at work. Fishlegs, a bundle of scrolls in his arms, was attempting to direct Snotlout and the Twins as they stacked logs to repair a fallen roof.
“Fishlegs, we can’t just ‘place’ a log anywhere,” Tuffnut complained, balancing a beam on his shoulder. “The log has to be in the perfect position for maximum stability and structural integrity!”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Fishlegs cried, exasperated. “Just… line it up with the rest of the structure, please?”
Snotlout, who’d been busy trying to look as important as possible, chimed in, “I’m clearly the strongest here, so obviously I should be the one holding this beam.”
“Oh, Snotlout,” Ruffnut snorted. “We all know you’re just here to look pretty.”
Amid their banter, Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh. The warmth of his friends’ camaraderie and their quirks reminded him that Berk wasn’t just the stones and wood they built upon — it was the people. He caught Gothi’s eye as she worked quietly on mending a Terrible Terror's broken wing. The ancient healer gave him a small nod of approval, her silent endorsement filling Hiccup with pride.
Across the clearing, Valka was working alongside Gobber, their laughter echoing through the village as they shared stories. “I remember when Stoick thought he could rebuild half the village on his own after a devastating raid back in the day,” Gobber was saying, wiping his brow. “Nearly tore his back apart, that one.”
Valka smiled, her eyes misty. “He was always too proud to ask for help.”
Hiccup joined them, sharing a laugh as they reminisced. Stoick’s absence was a wound that still felt fresh, but their shared memories softened the edges of that pain.
As he moved through the village, helping where he could, Hiccup’s gaze traveled to the newly constructed temporary prison. Freya awaited her trial, and despite the relief of Berk’s victory, a heaviness lingered in his heart.
The midday sun hung high as the people of Berk gathered near the village center for Freya’s trial. The atmosphere was solemn; the echoes of war were still fresh in everyone’s mind, and this trial was Berk’s way of finding closure.
Freya stood before the council in simple shackles, her gaze steely, though hints of remorse flickered in her eyes. Hiccup and the village council — composed of Gobber, Valka, Gothi, Spitelout and a few village elders — stood nearby. The council listened as the villagers spoke, recalling the pain and losses caused by the Syndicate, while also acknowledging the courage she showed in the end by staying behind to face Berk’s justice rather than fleeing.
Finally, Gobber rose to speak. “Freya of the Syndicate, it’s clear that you’ve caused a fair bit of heartache to this village. But it’s also clear that you had a chance to run and didn’t. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”
Valka added softly, “We believe in second chances here, Freya, though they must be earned.”
The council members murmured, and Gothi tapped her staff to silence them. After a brief consultation, Gobber stood to deliver the verdict.
“Freya, you’re sentenced to three years’ imprisonment here on Berk,” Gobber announced, his voice steady. “However, if you prove yourself trustworthy, that sentence may be shortened through work and dedication to the tribe. We hope that you’ll take this opportunity to rebuild what’s been broken.”
A murmur of approval ran through the crowd, and Hiccup could feel the tension begin to ease. Freya looked down, her hard exterior cracking for a brief moment as she absorbed the sentence. It wasn’t leniency exactly, but it was a second chance—one that she seemed to understand.
As the villagers dispersed, Hiccup walked over to Freya. “It’s not the end,” he said gently, his voice kind but firm. “Everyone here has lost something, Freya. Maybe by being part of Berk, you’ll find something worth fighting for — something different.”
Freya looked up, a hint of emotion in her eyes as she took in his words. “Thank you, Hiccup,” she whispered, managing a faint, almost reluctant smile.
As the twins led Freya away to her cell, Hiccup watched her go, a strange sense of hope flickering in his heart. He believed people could change, and if Freya could find redemption, then perhaps Berk could heal fully, too.
With the trial concluded, the focus shifted back to Berk’s restoration. The village square buzzed with energy as everyone worked on various repairs. Fishlegs and Snotlout organized supplies, while Tuffnut and Ruffnut managed to turn stacking barrels into a competition.
Gustav, in his usual overeager fashion, attempted to help by dragging a pile of nails over to Gobber. “I brought these for you, Gobber!” he said, barely able to lift the heavy sack.
Gobber laughed. “Steady there, lad! With that enthusiasm, you’ll be chief by next week!” He winked at Hiccup, who smiled back. Seeing everyone pitch in brought a new warmth to the village, a sense that they’d not only survived but would thrive.
A short distance away, Valka was guiding a group of villagers and dragons in rebuilding a damaged tower. Toothless, perched by her side, trilled in approval as the structure took shape.
As the repairs continued, Hiccup noticed Stoick's statue standing tall, nearly undamaged by all the fighting that occured all around it, watching over him from across the square. Hiccup paused for a moment and sent an knowing look at the statue of his old man, he knew that he approached some things differently from the way Stoick handled them and he also got shown the flaws of his plans by Freya during her attacks, but now, after winning such a big battle, he felt more confident than ever to try and fill his fathers footsteps. That silent encouragement filled him with a quiet pride; he was doing his father’s memory justice.
That evening, the Great Hall was alive with laughter and song as the villagers celebrated their victory and honored their allies. Tables were piled high with food, and every corner of the hall was filled with friends and family.
Hiccup sat at the head of the table, surrounded by those who had fought beside him. The entire village was present, along with Fishlegs, Snotlout, the Twins, Gobber, and Valka.
Hiccup raised his mug, silencing the room as he looked around at his friends. “To the people of Berk,” he began, “and to the allies who came when we needed them most.” He nodded toward each guest. “Thank you for your bravery, your strength, and your friendship.”
A loud cheer erupted from the hall as mugs clinked together and laughter filled the air. Even Snotlout tried to lead a toast, though it ended with the Twins playfully tipping his drink onto his lap.
In the midst of the laughter, Eret approached Hiccup, who extended a hand with a grateful smile. “Eret, once again thank you for your work, your father would be proud of you.”
Eret grinned. “What can I say? I’ve got great timing!.” He glanced around the hall, his gaze landing on the others. “Your father would be proud too, Hiccup. You’ve made Berk into something… more than even he could imagine.”
Touched, Hiccup nodded. “Thank you, Eret. You know that you’re always welcome here.”
The celebration continued late into the night, a mixture of relief, joy, and reflection. The threat had passed for now, but Hiccup knew that Berk’s journey was far from over.
As the hall emptied and the village grew quiet, Hiccup stepped outside, gazing out over the cliffs. Toothless sat beside him, his gaze drifting toward the stars. Hiccup’s mind turned to the battle, to the Skrill that had appeared at their darkest hour, and to the mysterious rider who wielded such power with ease.
“Who are you?” he murmured, his thoughts swirling with questions. Whoever that rider was, they were tied to the Syndicate’s ambitions — and to Astrid’s future plans. Berk’s battle might be over, but Hiccup knew that new dangers waited in the shadows.
As he stood there, Hiccup felt the weight of his responsibilities settle on his shoulders. But he also felt the strength of his people, his friends, and his family behind him. They had all fought for this peace, and he was determined to defend it for as long as he could.
Taking a deep breath, he smiled, his gaze steady as he looked out over the horizon. “This is Berk,” he whispered, a quiet promise to himself and to the future. “And as long as we’re here, we’ll stand together — dragons and people. We once again stood tall against a much bigger threat, this time we fought fiercely not only against enemies from the outside, but against traitors standing in our own rows. I know that there are still more challenges in store for us, looming beyond the horizon, but for now, though, we have each other, and that is more than enough.
This ride is far from over, Berk may have won the battle, but the war has just begun.
Sooner or later, the storm will return to Berkian shores, stronger than ever.
And we’ll be the ones patiently waiting for it…
Notes:
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Chapter 18: The Game Begins
Summary:
In the last Chapter of Flames of Deception: Act 1 a old Enemy resurrects with his Skrill.
Will Astrid and the Syndicate become the hunted?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The air was thick with the scent of smoke and salt as the stranger made his way through the Northern Markets, a sprawling network of weathered stalls and crowded buildings stretching along the rocky shoreline. Traders barked out prices, sailors shuffled barrels of goods, and fishermen unloaded their morning catch. Despite the constant noise and movement, the cloaked man seemed to glide effortlessly through the chaos, his presence nearly invisible.
He entered the tavern on the edge of the market, the dim lighting masking most of the patrons’ faces. Shadows flickered across the wooden beams, and the low hum of whispered conversations filled the air. The stranger scanned the room with a calculating gaze, his one sharp eye peering out from beneath the hood that covered most of his face. Settling into a dark corner, he waited, his fingers drumming softly on the table.
Moments later, a trader approached, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek and a wary look in his eyes. He slid into the seat across from the stranger, who gave him a brief nod. No words were exchanged at first, only a silent, mutual understanding.
Finally, the trader broke the silence. "Word’s spreading, you know,” he said, his voice low. “There’s been…rumblings. Armies are moving, and there’s talk of a new power amassing strength. They call them the Syndicate.”
The stranger’s scarred face gleamed with interest beneath his hood. He leaned forward slightly. “And who leads this Syndicate?”
The trader shrugged, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. “No one knows for certain. Some say it’s a ghost, others a madman. Whoever he is, his soldiers follow him with an unbreakable loyalty. They say he’s ruthless, cold as the north wind, and he wants control over all of the Archipelago. Even Berk.”
The stranger’s mouth curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Interesting,” he murmured, his voice a quiet purr that seemed both thoughtful and dangerous. "But Berk…they’ve managed to repel forces far more powerful than any ragtag army. I’ve experienced that first hand. They always survive. But let me ask you a question: Who was it that intervened in their little skirmish against these Syndicates?”
The trader’s brow furrowed in confusion. “No one knows. Some say a storm dragon appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc on the enemy fleet. A Skrill with a rider, if the rumors are true.”
The stranger’s eyes flickered with a glint of pride. “A fine creature, the Skrill,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Swift, silent, and merciless. Berk should count themselves lucky for such an ally.”
The trader eyed him, curiosity overcoming his wariness. “And what brings you here, then?”
The stranger leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of quiet confidence. “Berk and I have a history. Perhaps one day, I’ll visit Hiccup Horrendous Haddock myself once again,” he said, a faint edge to his tone. “They might even be grateful for me, though they won’t know it.”
The trader looked at him warily, sensing the hidden layers beneath his words. “Well, Berk might have survived this fight, but the Syndicate leader…he’s gathering strength. A deadly man, they say, with dark eyes and a knack for bending dragons to his will.”
The stranger’s expression darkened for a moment. His fingers twitched as if reaching for the hilt of his special weapon on his belt. “I’ve dealt with men like that before. This leader of theirs is nothing new. Just another shadow hoping to eclipse the light.”
The trader nodded, considering this. “You sound like you’ve fought your share of wars.”
“More than you’d know,” the stranger replied smoothly, his voice as cold as the cold weather outside. “And if Berk stands in this shadow’s path, then they’ll need more than just luck to survive what’s coming.”
The stranger’s tone dropped to a near whisper, a dark edge lacing his words. “They should prepare. Dragons and armies — Berk is just a piece in a much larger game.”
The trader shifted uncomfortably, unsettled by the man’s calm certainty. “And this Skrill… based on what you said earlier you call it yours, don’t you? It’s no mere wild beast?”
The stranger let out a quiet chuckle. “That incredible creature and I have a…unique understanding.” He tilted his head slightly. “I may even pay an old friend of Berk a visit. Word has it she’s found new allies,” he added, a knowing smile crossing his face. “Astrid Hofferson. She was up to some interesting things lately.”
The trader’s eyes widened, catching a flicker of recognition in the stranger’s intense gaze. But before he could form a question, the man rose from his seat and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only a single game figure from Maces and Talons, standing lonely on the table, the Traitor.
The trader remained seated, a cold shiver running down his spine as he watched the stranger’s silhouette dissolve into the foggy night. Somewhere in the distance, the crack of thunder echoed across the horizon, as if in response.
And far above, beyond the veil of clouds, a dark shape circled in the sky — wings arcing gracefully through the storm, bound to the secrets only the stranger knew.
Notes:
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I hope we see each other in Act 2!
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Chapter 19: The Hunters Gambit
Summary:
As Act 2 begins, the Syndicate plan the invasion of Berk, Grimmel is introduced and Astrid is confronted with difficult decisions.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The storm that had raged across the northern seas for three days finally began to subside as dawn broke over the Syndicate's stronghold. Carved into the jagged cliffs of a nameless island, the fortress stood like a monument to conquest—its dark stone walls rising from the churning waters below, crowned with battlements that bristled with ballistas and dragon traps. The morning light revealed the true scope of the operation: dozens of ships anchored in the protected harbor, their holds filled with captured dragons, and training grounds where Syndicate soldiers drilled with military precision.
In the highest tower of the stronghold, Astrid Hofferson stood before a massive window, watching the sun pierce through the dissipating storm clouds. Her armor bore the black and crimson insignia of the Syndicate now, the familiar blue and brown of Berk replaced by something harder, more unforgiving. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a severe braid, and her blue eyes held a coldness that would have been unrecognizable to those who once called her friend.
Three weeks had passed since she'd walked away from Berk, since she'd chosen what she believed was strength over sentiment. Three weeks since she'd seen the disappointment in Hiccup's eyes as he realized her true allegiance. The memory should have stung, but Astrid had learned to bury such weakness. Freya had taught her that much before her capture—emotion was a luxury leaders couldn't afford.
A soft knock at the chamber door interrupted her thoughts. "Enter," she called, not turning from the window.
"Ma'am," came the voice of Commander Rask, one of the Syndicate's veteran officers. "The fleet commanders are assembled in the war room. They await your briefing on the Berk operation."
"Tell them I'll be there shortly," Astrid replied, her voice carrying an authority that had developed quickly in her new role. As Rask's footsteps retreated down the stone corridor, she allowed herself one last look at the horizon. Somewhere beyond that line where sea met sky lay Berk—her former home, her former life. Soon, it would be hers again, but on her terms this time.
The war room was a testament to the Syndicate's methodical approach to conquest. Maps covered every surface, marked with colored pins denoting controlled territories, target locations, and dragon populations. Scale models of various island fortifications lined the walls, and a massive table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by hardened warriors who had pledged their loyalty to the Syndicate's cause.
Astrid entered to find twelve fleet commanders already assembled, their weathered faces turning toward her with a mixture of respect and wariness. She was young by their standards, barely into her twenties, yet she commanded their attention through sheer force of will and proven tactical brilliance. In the three weeks since joining the Syndicate, she had orchestrated the capture of two more islands, adding significantly to their dragon reserves and territorial control.
"Gentlemen," Astrid began, moving to the head of the table where a detailed map of Berk lay spread before them. "Phase one of our campaign has exceeded expectations. Thunderclaw Island and Grimsby Rocks have fallen, adding forty-three dragons to our forces and establishing forward staging areas. But these were merely appetizers. Today, we discuss the main course."
Commander Harek, a grizzled veteran with scars crisscrossing his arms, leaned forward. "Berk won't fall as easily as the outer islands, Astrid. Hiccup may be young, but he's not stupid. And their dragon defenses—"
"Are predictable," Astrid cut him off smoothly. "I know every defensive strategy they employ, every patrol route, every weakness in their fortifications. Hiccup's greatest strength—his bond with the dragons—is also his greatest vulnerability. He won't risk their lives unnecessarily, which limits his tactical options."
She traced her finger along the map, indicating key positions around Berk's coastline. "We'll establish a naval blockade here, here, and here, cutting off their supply lines and reinforcement routes. Simultaneously, we'll deploy our Singetail squadrons to the northwest, forcing them to divide their aerial defenses. When they're stretched thin, we strike at the harbor with everything we have."
Commander Thorne, a lean man with cold eyes, spoke up. "And what of the Night Fury? That dragon alone could turn the tide of any engagement."
A shadow passed over Astrid's face. "Toothless is indeed formidable, but he's still just one dragon. Our Deathgrippers can handle him if necessary." She paused, her expression hardening. "Besides, I have plans for dealing with Hiccup personally."
The commanders exchanged glances, some nodding in approval while others seemed troubled by the implication. Before anyone could respond, the heavy doors of the war room swung open with a resounding crash. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as a figure strode in, his presence immediately commanding attention.
Grimmel the Grisly entered like a force of nature barely contained. Tall and lean, with silver-streaked hair and piercing gray eyes, he possessed an almost supernatural charisma that made it impossible to look away. His dark cloak billowed behind him, revealing glimpses of armor crafted from dragon scales—not worn as trophies, but as tools of war. At his side padded his Deathgripper, its red scales gleaming with an oily sheen, tusks dripping with venom that sizzled where it touched the stone floor.
"Ah, discussing strategy without the master strategist present?" Grimmel's voice was cultured, almost warm, but with an underlying current of menace that made even the most hardened warriors shift uncomfortably. "How terribly rude of you all."
The commanders immediately stood and bowed—all except Astrid, who remained seated, meeting Grimmel's gaze with steady defiance. A slow smile spread across the hunter's face as he recognized her boldness.
"Astrid Hofferson," he said, moving to stand beside her chair. "The prodigal daughter of Berk, now our most valuable asset. I trust the planning proceeds smoothly?"
"Better than smoothly," Astrid replied, rising to face him. "We'll be ready to move against Berk within the week. The only question is whether your... exotic methods... will be necessary."
Grimmel chuckled, a sound like silk hiding steel. "My dear girl, exotic hardly does justice to what I bring to this endeavor. You see, while you've been playing general with conventional forces, I've been preparing something far more interesting."
He gestured to his Deathgripper, which hissed softly and extended its wings in a display of barely controlled aggression. "Meet Skullcrusher—one of six such magnificent creatures in my personal collection. Unlike the unruly beasts your former friends insist on calling 'partners,' my dragons understand their place in the hierarchy. They serve without question, kill without hesitation, and most importantly, they cannot be turned against their master through appeals to sentiment."
Commander Rask cleared his throat nervously. "Sir, we've heard reports of these... Deathgrippers... but we've never seen them in combat. Are they truly as effective as claimed?"
Grimmel's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed just a bit too sharp. "An excellent question. Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"
Before anyone could respond, he whistled—a sharp, piercing sound that made everyone in the room wince. Within seconds, the air filled with the sound of approaching wings. Through the windows, dark shapes could be seen circling the tower, and soon five more Deathgrippers had landed on the wide stone balcony outside. Each one was a masterpiece of predatory evolution, their red scales marked with unique patterns that spoke to their individual lethality.
"Behold," Grimmel said, spreading his arms wide, "the future of dragon warfare. No emotional bonds to exploit, no mercy to appeal to, no heroic last-minute rescues. Just pure, efficient destruction delivered with surgical precision."
Astrid studied the creatures with a tactical eye, noting their size, apparent speed, and the way they responded to their master's presence. "Impressive," she admitted. "But Berk's defenders aren't just any dragons. They have experience, cunning, and most importantly, they fight to protect something they love. That's a powerful motivator."
"Indeed it is," Grimmel agreed, his tone becoming more serious. "Which is why our strategy must account for such... emotional complications. You understand Hiccup better than anyone, Astrid. What drives him? What would break him?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. Astrid felt the weight of every gaze in the room as she considered her response. Images flashed through her mind—memories of training sessions with Hiccup, quiet conversations about the future, moments of shared laughter and triumph. Then she remembered the frustration, the endless debates about dragon management, the growing sense that Berk was becoming weak under his leadership.
"Hiccup's greatest strength and greatest weakness are the same thing," she said finally. "He believes in the goodness of everyone and everything. He can't conceive of a world where compromise isn't possible, where some conflicts can only be resolved through strength. If you want to break him, you don't attack his body—you attack his beliefs."
Grimmel nodded approvingly. "Precisely. And how do you suggest we accomplish this philosophical destruction?"
Astrid moved to the map, her finger tracing the familiar outline of Berk's main village. "We force him to make impossible choices. Every move we make should present him with a moral dilemma where any decision results in loss. Save the village or save the dragons. Protect the innocent or maintain his principles. Eventually, the weight of those choices will crush him."
"Brilliant," Grimmel purred. "You truly are everything I hoped for when I first learned of your... change of heart. But tell me, Astrid—and please, speak honestly—do you ever doubt this path you've chosen?"
The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, the mask of cold determination slipped. The assembled commanders watched intently as she wrestled with something internal, her jaw clenching with visible effort.
"Every leader doubts," she said finally. "The difference is whether you let those doubts paralyze you or drive you to certainty. I've seen what happens when we try to build a world on hope and good intentions. Chaos. Conflict. Weakness. The Syndicate offers something better—order through strength, peace through decisive action."
"And what of your former friends?" Grimmel pressed. "The Riders who trusted you, fought beside you, considered you family? Do they not deserve some consideration in your grand design?"
Astrid's eyes flashed with something—pain, perhaps, or anger at having old wounds probed. "They made their choice when they decided to follow Hiccup's path instead of mine. I offered them a chance to join us, to be part of something greater. They refused. Now they must live with the consequences."
Grimmel studied her face carefully, reading the micro-expressions that most would miss. "I see," he said softly. "And yet, I sense that this Hiccup still holds some small piece of your heart. Is that not so?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the Deathgrippers seemed to sense the tension, their breathing becoming shallower as they waited for their master's next move. Astrid's hand unconsciously moved to the handle of her axe, and several commanders shifted nervously.
"What I feel or don't feel is irrelevant," Astrid said, her voice deadly quiet. "Hiccup had his chance to lead Berk toward strength. Instead, he chose weakness disguised as compassion. If he must be destroyed to save Berk from itself, then so be it."
Grimmel's smile returned, wider than before. "There's the fire I was hoping to see. Very good, Astrid. Very good indeed." He turned to address the room at large. "Gentlemen, you have just witnessed why this young woman will lead our assault on Berk. She understands that true leadership requires the courage to make hard choices, to sacrifice personal comfort for the greater good."
Commander Harek raised a question that had been troubling him. "Sir, what of the other dragon riders? The ones who joined the battle at Berk's harbor? Our scouts report that Dagur the Deranged and his sister have remained on the island, along with several other foreign allies."
"Dagur," Grimmel mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The former Berserker chief. Unpredictable, violent, but ultimately driven by loyalty rather than strategy. He'll be fierce in defense of his new home, but his very nature makes him exploitable." He turned to Astrid. "What's your assessment of the Berserker's tactical value?"
"High in terms of individual combat effectiveness, low in terms of strategic thinking," Astrid replied without hesitation. "Dagur fights with passion, not planning. He'll charge headfirst into any trap we set if he thinks it will protect people he cares about. Heather is more cautious, but she follows her brother's lead in battle situations."
"And the Defenders of the Wing?"
"Queen Mala's people are disciplined and well-trained, but they're used to defensive operations on their own territory. Fighting an offensive campaign in unfamiliar waters will challenge their effectiveness. Their Razorwhips are formidable, but they rely heavily on coordinated group tactics. Disrupt their formations, and their advantage diminishes significantly."
Grimmel nodded, clearly pleased with her analysis. "Excellent. You see, gentlemen, this is why experience matters. Astrid doesn't just know these people as enemies—she knows them as former allies. She understands their strengths, their weaknesses, and most importantly, their blind spots."
He began pacing around the table, his Deathgripper following like a loyal hound. "The previous assault on Berk failed because it relied on brute force and intimidation. We assumed that superior numbers and fearsome dragons would be enough to break their will. We were wrong. Berk's defenders didn't fight like soldiers—they fought like family. Every loss made them stronger, every victory more precious."
Commander Thorne frowned. "So how do we overcome that kind of unity?"
"We don't overcome it," Grimmel replied, his eyes gleaming with malicious intelligence. "We poison it. Unity based on trust can be shattered by doubt. Courage based on righteousness can be undermined by moral ambiguity. We won't just defeat Berk's defenders—we'll make them defeat themselves."
He stopped beside a detailed model of Berk's Great Hall, running his finger along its miniature walls. "The key is to make them question everything they believe about right and wrong, about loyalty and betrayal. When they no longer trust their own judgment, they'll make mistakes. And we'll be there to capitalize on every single one."
Astrid found herself impressed despite her reservations about Grimmel's methods. She had expected a typical warlord—brutal, direct, relying on fear and overwhelming force. Instead, she was working with perhaps the most sophisticated military mind she had ever encountered. It was both thrilling and terrifying.
"What's our timeline?" she asked.
"One week," Grimmel replied. "Seven days to finalize our preparations, position our forces, and begin the psychological campaign. The beauty of this approach is that the actual military assault becomes almost secondary. By the time our ships appear on Berk's horizon, half the battle will already be won."
He gestured toward one of the windows, where his Deathgrippers could be seen perched on the battlements like gargoyles. "My children here will handle the preliminary phase. A few carefully orchestrated raids on shipping lanes, some mysterious disappearances, perhaps a tragic accident or two involving dragon riders who venture too far from home. Nothing that can be directly traced to us, but enough to make Berk's people nervous."
"And then?" Commander Rask prompted.
"Then we make our true intentions known," Astrid said, understanding beginning to dawn in her eyes. "We give them a chance to surrender, to join us willingly. When they refuse—and Hiccup will refuse—we make it clear that their stubbornness is what's causing all the suffering that follows."
"Precisely!" Grimmel exclaimed, clapping his hands together with genuine delight. "You are learning quickly, my dear. Yes, we offer them every opportunity to avoid bloodshed, to make the rational choice. When they don't, the responsibility for what happens next falls squarely on their shoulders."
The moral complexity of the strategy wasn't lost on the assembled commanders. Several looked uncomfortable with the idea of psychological warfare on such a scale, but none dared voice their objections. They had seen what happened to those who disappointed Grimmel, and none wished to join that particular list.
"What about our prisoner?" Commander Harek asked, referring to Freya, who had been captured during the last battle at Berk.
Grimmel's expression darkened slightly. "Ah yes, our dear Freya. The architect of our previous failures, though she showed promise in the end. She remains in the lower dungeons, contemplating the consequences of her... inadequate performance."
"She could still be useful," Astrid suggested carefully. "Her knowledge of Syndicate operations, her dragon-handling skills—"
"Are compromised by her emotional attachment to her former enemies," Grimmel cut her off sharply. "Freya's greatest flaw was that she allowed herself to care about the opinions of those she sought to conquer. It made her weak, indecisive. I won't make the same mistake with you, Astrid."
The implied threat hung in the air like smoke. Astrid met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm not Freya. My commitment to our cause doesn't depend on what others think of me."
"Good," Grimmel said, his smile returning. "Then you won't mind proving it when the time comes."
As if summoned by some invisible signal, a new figure entered the war room—a young man in Syndicate colors carrying a leather message pouch. He approached Grimmel with obvious deference, bowing deeply before speaking.
"Sir, urgent reports from our reconnaissance flights."
Grimmel took the pouch and extracted several rolled papers, scanning them quickly. His eyebrows rose with interest as he read, and a genuine smile of pleasure crossed his features.
"Excellent news, everyone," he announced. "It seems that Berk's dragon population has increased significantly since our last intelligence update. Refugees from the outer islands have been arriving steadily, bringing their dragons with them. The village is now more crowded than ever—which presents us with a wonderful opportunity."
He spread one of the reconnaissance reports on the table, revealing detailed sketches of Berk's current layout. Dragons could be seen perched on every available surface, while humans moved between them in clearly inadequate spaces.
"Overcrowding breeds tension," Astrid observed, studying the reports. "Too many dragons in too small a space, competing for resources and territory. It's a powder keg waiting for a spark."
"Indeed," Grimmel agreed. "And we shall provide that spark at precisely the right moment. A few carefully placed provocations, some mysterious accidents, perhaps a food shortage or two—nothing that screams 'sabotage,' but enough to make the dragons restless and the humans nervous."
Commander Thorne looked puzzled. "But sir, if the dragons turn on each other or flee, doesn't that reduce Berk's defensive capabilities? That seems like it would make our job easier, not harder."
Grimmel's laugh was like the sound of breaking glass. "My dear commander, you're thinking like a soldier, not like a psychologist. Yes, dragon infighting would weaken Berk's defenses—but it would also give Hiccup exactly the excuse he needs to implement harsh control measures. Emergency rationing, restricted movement, martial law under the guise of public safety."
Astrid's eyes widened as she grasped the full implications. "And when the people start grumbling about the restrictions—"
"We offer them an alternative," Grimmel finished. "Join the Syndicate, and their dragons will be properly managed by experts. No more chaos, no more accidents, no more wondering whether the creatures they've welcomed into their homes might turn on them in the night."
The elegance of the plan was undeniable. Rather than trying to defeat Berk through force alone, they would make the burden of defending it so overwhelming that surrender would seem like relief. It was manipulation on a scale that left even the hardened military commanders impressed.
"There's one problem," Astrid said slowly. "Hiccup won't impose martial law, no matter how bad things get. It goes against everything he believes about leadership."
"Precisely," Grimmel replied, his smile becoming predatory. "Which means that as conditions deteriorate, he'll become increasingly desperate to find solutions that don't compromise his precious principles. Desperate leaders make poor decisions, and poor decisions create opportunities for their enemies."
He moved to another map, this one showing the broader archipelago surrounding Berk. Red pins marked Syndicate-controlled territories, while blue pins indicated neutral or hostile regions. The pattern that emerged was unmistakable—Berk was becoming increasingly isolated.
"Phase two of our campaign begins tomorrow," Grimmel announced. "Astrid will take command of our northern fleet and begin harassing supply convoys bound for Berk. Nothing too obvious—just enough delays and 'accidents' to create shortages. Meanwhile, I'll handle the more... delicate... aspects of our psychological warfare."
"What kind of delicate aspects?" Commander Rask asked nervously.
Grimmel's Deathgripper chose that moment to let out a low, rumbling growl, its tusks gleaming with fresh venom. The hunter stroked the creature's neck affectionately before responding.
"Let's just say that certain influential figures in Berk's government will begin experiencing personal tragedies that make them question whether their current leadership is worth the price they're paying. A sick child here, a missing livestock there, perhaps a few dragon riders who simply... disappear... during routine patrols."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. This wasn't just military conquest—it was systematic psychological destruction. Several of the commanders looked genuinely disturbed by the scope of what they were planning.
"Sir," Commander Harek said carefully, "some of our own people might have concerns about targeting civilians, especially children—"
"Then they're welcome to leave," Grimmel replied with casual indifference. "This war isn't about following conventional rules of engagement. It's about reshaping the entire archipelago according to a superior vision. Those who lack the stomach for what's necessary can find employment elsewhere."
His tone made it clear that "elsewhere" might be a very final destination. Astrid watched the exchange with growing unease, beginning to understand that she had allied herself with something far more ruthless than she had anticipated. Still, she reminded herself, sometimes the ends justified harsh means. If the Syndicate's victory meant stability and order for the archipelago, then perhaps a few moral compromises were acceptable.
"I want detailed intelligence on every family in Berk," she said, pushing down her doubts. "Their relationships, their weaknesses, their fears. If we're going to wage psychological warfare, we need to know exactly which buttons to push."
"Already in progress," Grimmel assured her. "My network of informants has been gathering such information for months. By the time we make our move, we'll know Berk better than its own residents do."
A new thought occurred to Astrid. "What about the Night Fury? Toothless isn't just Hiccup's dragon—he's his best friend, his emotional anchor. If something were to happen to him..."
"Ah yes, the legendary bond between rider and dragon," Grimmel mused. "I've given considerable thought to that particular relationship. The Night Fury represents everything naive about Hiccup's worldview—the belief that strength and gentleness can coexist, that predators can become partners through trust alone."
He paused, his gray eyes taking on a distant look. "I once knew another Night Fury, you know. Magnificent creature, intelligent and proud. Its rider believed, just as Hiccup does, that their bond made them invincible. It took considerable effort to prove them wrong."
The casual way he spoke of destroying a Night Fury and its rider sent chills through everyone present. Even Astrid felt a moment of genuine fear as she realized the full extent of Grimmel's capabilities.
"But that's a conversation for another time," Grimmel continued, his demeanor becoming businesslike again. "For now, we focus on the preliminary phases. Astrid, you'll depart with the northern fleet at dawn. Your targets are the supply ships from Defender of the Wing territory and the trading vessels from the Bog-Burglar islands. Make their losses seem like accidents or natural disasters—storms, sea serpent attacks, equipment failures."
"Understood," Astrid replied. "What about prisoners?"
"Take any dragon riders you encounter alive if possible. They'll make excellent bargaining chips when negotiations begin. Ordinary sailors and merchants..." He shrugged. "Use your judgment."
The dismissive way he spoke of human life as an expendable resource troubled several of the commanders, but none dared object. They had chosen their path when they joined the Syndicate, and backing out now would be both impossible and fatal.
"Are there any other questions?" Grimmel asked, his tone suggesting that there better not be.
Commander Thorne raised his hand hesitantly. "Sir, what about our own casualties? This kind of operation is likely to result in losses among our forces. How do we maintain morale if people start dying for what might appear to be minor objectives?"
"An excellent question," Grimmel acknowledged. "The answer is simple—we make sure our people understand that they're not dying for minor objectives. They're dying to reshape the world, to bring order to chaos, to establish a system where dragons serve humanity instead of the other way around. Every life lost in service of that vision is a sacrifice that will be remembered and honored."
He gestured toward a wall where banners from conquered territories hung like trophies. "Every island we've taken, every dragon we've tamed, every ruler we've replaced—it all serves the greater purpose. Our people fight knowing that their children will inherit a world free from the chaos and uncertainty that has plagued the archipelago for generations."
The speech was delivered with such conviction that even those who harbored doubts found themselves nodding along. Grimmel possessed an almost supernatural ability to make his vision seem not just desirable, but inevitable.
"Now then," he concluded, "I believe we all have preparations to make. The next week will determine whether the Syndicate becomes a historical footnote or the foundation of a new age. I suggest we make sure it's the latter."
As the commanders filed out of the war room, Astrid lingered behind, studying the maps and battle plans with intense concentration. She was so absorbed in the tactical details that she didn't notice Grimmel approaching until he spoke directly behind her.
"Second thoughts, my dear?"
She turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral. "Just making sure I understand every aspect of the plan. Success depends on perfect coordination between all elements."
"Indeed it does," he agreed, moving to stand beside her at the table. "But I sense something else troubling you. Please, speak freely. I value honest counsel above false reassurance."
Astrid hesitated, then decided to voice her concerns. "This level of psychological manipulation—it's more complex than anything the Syndicate has attempted before. Are we certain our people can execute it properly? One mistake, one overly obvious move, and the whole strategy could backfire."
Grimmel nodded thoughtfully. "A valid concern. Which is why I've decided to handle the most delicate operations personally. My Deathgrippers and I will take care of the... subtle... work, while you focus on the military aspects where your expertise is unquestionable."
"That's not what worries me," Astrid said, surprising herself with her candor. "What worries me is what happens after we win. This kind of campaign leaves scars, Grimmel. The people of Berk won't just submit—they'll be broken. How do you govern a population that's been systematically terrorized into compliance?"
For the first time since she'd met him, Grimmel's mask of confident superiority slipped slightly. She caught a glimpse of something harder underneath—a coldness that went far deeper than mere tactical ruthlessness.
"You govern them the same way you break them," he said quietly. "Through careful control of information, systematic elimination of potential troublemakers, and constant reminders of what happens to those who oppose the established order. Fear is a renewable resource, Astrid. Use it properly, and it never runs out."
The casual way he spoke of permanent tyranny made Astrid's blood run cold. She had envisioned the Syndicate's victory as the beginning of a new, more orderly society—not as the establishment of a reign of terror.
"That's not what I signed up for," she said carefully.
"Isn't it?" Grimmel countered, his piercing gray eyes studying her face. "Did you think that strength could be established and maintained through gentle persuasion? Did you imagine that order could be imposed without breaking a few spirits along the way? My dear girl, there is no halfway point in the kind of transformation we're attempting. Either we commit completely to reshaping this archipelago, or we fail completely and watch it descend into chaos."
He moved closer, his voice dropping to an almost hypnotic whisper. "You've seen what happens when leadership lacks the will to make hard choices. Hiccup's Berk is overrun with uncontrolled dragons, struggling with resource shortages, constantly threatened by external enemies. Is that really preferable to a system where everyone knows their place and performs their function efficiently?"
Despite her growing unease, Astrid found herself nodding. The logic was undeniable, even if the methods were harsher than she had anticipated. Perhaps some suffering in the short term was acceptable if it prevented greater suffering in the long term.
"I understand," she said finally. "I just... I need to know that we're building something better, not just tearing down what exists."
"We are," Grimmel assured her, his smile returning. "Trust me, Astrid. In five years, ten years, when the archipelago is peaceful and prosperous under our guidance, you'll look back on these difficult decisions and understand that they were necessary. History will vindicate us."
As she prepared to leave for her own chambers, Astrid tried to push down the nagging voice in her head that whispered she was making a terrible mistake. She had committed to this path, had burned her bridges with Berk and her former friends. There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to.
"One more thing," Grimmel called as she reached the door. "When you encounter Hiccup during the campaign—and you will encounter him—remember that your personal history with him is both a weapon and a vulnerability. Use it wisely."
"I will," she replied, though she wasn't entirely sure what that meant.
As Astrid walked through the torch-lit corridors of the Syndicate stronghold, she tried to focus on the tactical challenges ahead rather than the moral implications of what they were planning. She was a warrior, a strategist, a leader—not a philosopher. Her job was to win the war, not to agonize over its consequences.
But as she reached her chambers and began preparing for the dawn departure, she couldn't shake the image of Hiccup's face when he realized her betrayal. The hurt in his green eyes, the bewilderment of someone who had never imagined that someone he trusted could turn against him so completely.
She pushed the memory away and began checking her weapons and armor. Tomorrow, the real war would begin, and sentiment was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Outside her window, the Deathgrippers circled in the darkness, their red scales glinting in the moonlight like drops of blood against the star-filled sky. Soon, those same creatures would be spreading terror across the archipelago, and she would be leading the charge.
The thought should have filled her with anticipation. Instead, it left her feeling hollow and strange, as if she were watching someone else's life unfold from a great distance. But there was no time for such weakness now. The Syndicate was counting on her, and she would not let them down.
Even if it meant destroying everything she had once held dear.
Notes:
We’re back with another chapter!
This time, we dive into the strategic planning behind the impending attack on Berk, along with Grimmel’s long-awaited first real appearance. Plus, we tackle the overpopulation issue in Berk—something the third movie glossed over. From here on out, this story becomes a full rewrite of HTTYD: The Hidden World.
As always, new chapters drop every Saturday!
Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to share your thoughts—feedback keeps the story soaring!
Chapter 20: The Enforcer's Rise
Summary:
The Syndicate's northern forces invade a new island and Astrid becomes the Enforcer of the North.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first light of dawn painted the sea crimson as Astrid Hofferson stood at the bow of the Syndicate flagship Dominion, her armor gleaming with a cold metallic sheen that reflected the morning sun. The black sails of her fleet stretched behind her like the wings of some massive predator, each vessel bearing the red dragon insignia that had become synonymous with conquest across the archipelago. Her blonde hair whipped in the salt-laden wind, but her blue eyes remained fixed on the target ahead - the Island of Varyn, its peaceful fishing village nestled between protective cliffs like a jewel waiting to be plucked.
"Ma'am," called Commander Bronn from behind her, his scarred face set in grim anticipation. The burly man had served the Syndicate for three years, fighting his way up from common soldier to fleet commander through sheer brutality and tactical acumen. "The dragons are in position. Awaiting your orders."
Astrid didn't turn, her gaze still locked on the approaching shoreline where smoke was beginning to rise from morning cooking fires, where children played on the beaches, where people lived their lives in blissful ignorance of what was about to befall them. For just a moment, the scene reminded her of Berk in the early hours, when she would watch from her window as the village came to life. The memory sent an unexpected pang through her chest, but she crushed it ruthlessly.
"Signal the attack," she commanded, her voice carrying across the deck with unwavering authority. "Remember - we want their dragons intact and their people compliant. Those who surrender will be spared. Those who resist..." She let the implication hang in the air like morning mist.
Commander Lyra, a lean woman with sharp eyes and deadly accuracy with her bow, stepped forward. "What about their leaders? The village elder is known to be stubborn. He'll likely try to rally resistance."
"Then he'll serve as an example to the others," Astrid replied without hesitation. The words came easier now than they had during her first conquest three weeks ago. Each victory had hardened something inside her, each conquered village adding another layer of protective ice around whatever remained of her former self.
Above them, the Syndicate's aerial forces circled like vultures. Deadly Nadders with reinforced armor and Syndicate riders, Gronckles fitted with special harnesses that allowed for precision bombing runs, and even a few Monstrous Nightmares whose flames had been enhanced through Grimmel's alchemical treatments. They were magnificent in their deadly coordination, a far cry from the chaotic but passionate dragon riders of Berk.
As the fleet approached Varyn's harbor, Astrid could see the villagers beginning to notice their approach. Tiny figures pointed from the docks, their voices carrying faintly across the water in tones of confusion and growing alarm. Children were quickly ushered inside, while men grabbed spears and axes with the desperate courage of those defending their homes.
"Stormfly," Astrid called softly, and her Deadly Nadder landed beside her with practiced grace. The dragon's blue and yellow scales seemed duller somehow, her movements more mechanical than they had once been. The free-spirited dragon who had once played games and performed tricks for laughing children had been replaced by something more focused, more disciplined. More useful.
Astrid mounted her dragon and took to the air, her commanders following behind on their own steeds. As they approached the village, she raised her voice, knowing it would carry across the water and stone.
"People of Varyn!" she called, her words echoing off the cliffs. "I am Astrid Hofferson, Commander of the Northern Syndicate Fleet. Your island has been selected for integration into our expanding territory. Surrender now, and your lives and property will be protected under Syndicate law. Resist, and face the consequences of your defiance."
The response was immediate and predictable. A young warrior, barely out of his teens, stepped forward on the main dock, his sword gleaming in the morning light. His voice cracked slightly with youth and terror, but his words rang with genuine courage.
"We know who you are, traitor!" he shouted. "Varyn will never bow to Berkian sellouts and their dragon masters! We stand free!"
The word 'traitor' hit Astrid like a physical blow, though she gave no outward sign. She had heard it whispered on every island they had conquered, seen it in the eyes of every prisoner they had taken. The accusation was always the same - that she had betrayed her own people, her own values, her own heart for the promise of power. What they didn't understand was that she hadn't betrayed anything. She had simply chosen strength over weakness, order over chaos, reality over naive idealism.
"Very well," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the water. "You have made your choice. Now live with the consequences."
She raised her hand, and the attack began in earnest.
Stormfly dove first, her spine shots whistling through the air with deadly precision. They weren't aimed to kill - not yet - but to scatter and demoralize. The wooden dock exploded in splinters as the spikes struck home, sending the young warrior diving for cover. Behind them, the Gronckles began their bombing runs, dropping loads of stones and Greek fire that ignited buildings and blocked escape routes with surgical precision.
The Monstrous Nightmares came next, their enhanced flames turning the morning air into a shimmering heat haze. But their fire was controlled, calculated - setting blazes that would spread fear faster than destruction, forcing evacuation rather than causing wholesale slaughter. Grimmel had taught them that fear was a more valuable tool than death, that a population terrorized into submission was more useful than one reduced to ash.
Astrid guided Stormfly through the chaos with practiced ease, her eyes constantly scanning for tactical opportunities and potential threats. She spotted a group of villagers trying to launch their own dragons - a small collection of Gronckles and Zipplebacks that had been used for fishing and light transport. Before they could achieve aerial superiority, she signaled to Commander Bronn, whose Rumblehorn descended like a living battering ram.
The enemy dragons, untrained for combat and ridden by fishermen rather than warriors, scattered immediately. One brave soul on a young Zippleback tried to engage Bronn directly, but the mismatch was comical in its one-sidedness. Within minutes, the local dragons were either fled or grounded, their riders nursing injuries or hiding among the burning buildings.
Commander Lyra had taken her squad to secure the village's periphery, cutting off escape routes and herding civilians toward the central square. Her arrows sang through the air with mechanical precision, each shot carefully aimed to wound or intimidate rather than kill. She had learned through hard experience that live prisoners were more valuable than martyrs - both as sources of information and as examples to other potential resisters.
The battle, if it could even be called that, lasted less than an hour. By the time the sun had fully cleared the horizon, Varyn's resistance had collapsed entirely. The villagers knelt in the central square, surrounded by Syndicate soldiers while smoke rose from strategically placed fires around the village's edge. The message was clear - they could have destroyed everything, but chose restraint. This time.
Astrid landed Stormfly in the center of the square, dismounting with fluid grace. Her boots clicked against the stone as she approached the captured villagers, her expression unreadable behind the mask of cold authority she had perfected over the past weeks. The young warrior who had defied her earlier knelt at the front of the group, blood trickling from a cut above his left eye, his sword nowhere to be seen.
"What's your name?" she asked him, her voice neither cruel nor kind - simply matter-of-fact.
"Erik," he replied, his voice still steady despite his obvious fear. "Erik Thorson. My father died defending this village from raiders five years ago. I won't dishonor his memory by surrendering to invaders."
Astrid studied his face, seeing in his defiant eyes an echo of herself at that age. The certainty that right and wrong were clear, that courage alone could overcome any obstacle, that standing for one's principles was always worth the cost. She had believed such things once, had been willing to die for them if necessary.
"Your father sounds like a brave man," she said, surprising everyone including herself. "But bravery without wisdom is just another word for waste. Dead heroes protect no one, Erik Thorson. They just leave their people leaderless when leadership is needed most."
"Better to die free than live as slaves," Erik shot back.
"Slavery?" Astrid's laugh was bitter. "Is that what you think we're offering? Look around you, boy. How many of your people are dead? How many of your buildings are truly destroyed rather than merely damaged? We could have turned this entire island into a crater if we wanted slaves. Instead, we offer you citizenship in something greater than yourselves."
She gestured to Commander Lyra, who produced a scroll from her pack. "These are the terms of integration. Your people will be relocated to secure housing on Syndicate territory. Your dragons will be properly trained and equipped for useful work rather than wasted on fishing expeditions. Your young people will receive military training and education. Your elders will be cared for in their declining years."
"And in return?" Erik asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"In return, you serve the Syndicate's goals rather than your own narrow interests. You contribute to something larger than one small village clinging to one small island. You become part of an empire that will bring order to the entire archipelago." Astrid's voice grew more passionate as she spoke, the words flowing with the conviction that had first drawn Grimmel's attention. "No more raids from dragon hunters. No more food shortages when the fish migrate. No more wondering if your children will grow up in a world constantly torn by petty wars between petty chiefs."
Several of the villagers looked uncertain now, the harsh reality of their situation beginning to sink in. They had expected either death or traditional slavery, not this offer of conditional integration. It was seductive in its reasonableness, terrifying in its implications.
Erik, however, remained unmoved. "And if we refuse your generous offer?"
Astrid's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in her eyes. "Then you join the list of those who chose poorly."
She nodded to Commander Bronn, who stepped forward and hauled Erik to his feet. The young man didn't struggle - there would have been no point - but his spine remained straight, his gaze defiant.
"Take him to the cliff edge," Astrid ordered. "Let everyone see what happens to those who value pride over pragmatism."
"Astrid," Commander Lyra said quietly, approaching her with obvious concern. "Is this necessary? The boy is young, foolish. He could be re-educated, made useful."
For a moment, Astrid hesitated. Erik reminded her not just of her younger self, but of Hiccup - the same stubborn idealism, the same refusal to accept that sometimes the world demanded harsh choices. Part of her wanted to spare him, to find another way to make her point without blood.
But that part of her was weakness, sentiment, the naive girl who had believed that dragons and humans could live together in perfect harmony if they just tried hard enough. That girl had watched Berk struggle with overcrowding, resource shortages, and constant external threats while Hiccup refused to make the hard decisions necessary for true security. That girl had learned that idealism without power was just another form of selfishness.
"The lesson must be clear," she said, her voice steady. "Mercy shown to one encourages a hundred others to test our resolve. We cannot afford to appear weak, not when the entire archipelago is watching."
Commander Lyra nodded reluctantly and gestured for the guards to proceed. As Erik was dragged away, his voice rang out across the square.
"You can kill me, but you can't kill what I represent! Berk will never fall to the likes of you! Hiccup will stop you!"
The mention of Hiccup's name sent another unexpected jolt through Astrid's chest. She could picture him so clearly - his gentle eyes, his shy smile, the way he always looked for the best in everyone and everything. He would be horrified by what she was doing here, would try to find some middle path that satisfied everyone and solved nothing.
"Hiccup," she said quietly, her voice carrying to every corner of the square, "is the reason the archipelago bleeds. His weakness, his refusal to take necessary action, his childish belief that all conflicts can be resolved through understanding and compromise. Look where his leadership has brought us - constant war, constant uncertainty, constant fear."
Erik had stopped struggling, his attention caught by the pain in her voice. "You loved him," he said with sudden understanding. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? He broke your heart, so now you're breaking the world."
The accusation hit harder than any weapon could have. For a moment, Astrid's carefully constructed facade cracked, revealing something raw and wounded underneath. But only for a moment.
"Love is another luxury leaders cannot afford," she replied, her voice like winter wind across bare stone. "Hiccup chose his dragons over his people, his ideals over his responsibilities, his dreams over reality. I chose differently."
She turned away as Commander Bronn carried out her orders. The sound that followed -brief, final, and carrying across the water - silenced any remaining defiance among the villagers. When she turned back, their faces showed a mixture of terror, despair, and resignation that she had seen on a dozen other islands.
"Now then," she said, her tone becoming businesslike again, "let's discuss the practical details of your integration."
The next several hours passed in a blur of administrative efficiency. Villages were catalogued and assigned to resettlement ships. Dragons were examined, classified, and prepared for transport to Syndicate training facilities. Personal belongings were sorted into "essential" and "expendable" categories. Children were separated from their parents for preliminary evaluation and education planning.
Through it all, Astrid moved with mechanical precision, addressing concerns, making decisions, solving problems with the cold efficiency that had made her one of Grimmel's most valued commanders. She had learned to compartmentalize, to separate the necessary brutality of conquest from any emotional response to it. The work had to be done; therefore, she would do it properly.
By late afternoon, Varyn was empty except for Syndicate personnel and the infrastructure too valuable to abandon. The villagers were distributed among the transport ships, beginning their journey to new lives under Syndicate control. Most would adapt eventually - humans were remarkably resilient when survival was at stake. Some would even thrive, finding purpose and security in service to a cause greater than themselves.
A few would resist until the end, clinging to memories of freedom that would ultimately prove more painful than useful. Those would require individual attention, but that was a problem for the re-education specialists. Astrid's job was conquest, not rehabilitation.
As the fleet prepared to depart for their next target, Commander Lyra approached her with the day's reports. "Casualties were minimal - three dead among the defenders, seven wounded. Our forces sustained no serious injuries. Dragon capture rate was ninety-three percent, well above average. Overall efficiency rating: excellent."
Astrid nodded, filing the information away with all the other statistics that defined her new existence. Numbers were clean, objective, free from the messy complications of human emotion. A successful conquest could be measured in percentages and resource allocation charts.
"What's our next target?" she asked.
"Grimmel's orders specify the Windswept Isles," Lyra replied, consulting her notes. "Three small islands with a combined population of maybe two thousand. They've been supplying food to Berk's refugee camps. Eliminating them will tighten the noose considerably."
"How long until we arrive?"
"Two days at current speed. The weather looks favorable."
Astrid gazed out at the horizon, where storm clouds were gathering in the distance. Somewhere beyond those clouds lay Berk, where Hiccup was probably agonizing over reports of today's conquest, trying to find some way to respond that didn't compromise his precious principles. She could imagine the debates in the Great Hall, the arguments between those who wanted immediate retaliation and those who counseled patience and diplomacy.
He would choose patience, of course. He always did. And with each day of hesitation, the Syndicate's position would grow stronger, their grip on the archipelago tighter. By the time he finally accepted that some enemies could not be reasoned with, it would be far too late.
"Ma'am?" Commander Lyra's voice pulled her from her reverie. "Your orders for the night watch?"
"Standard formation," Astrid replied automatically. "Double patrols on the perimeter, rotating shifts every four hours. I want advance scouts deployed at maximum range - if anything approaches this fleet, I want to know about it long before it becomes a problem."
As her commanders dispersed to implement her orders, Astrid found herself alone at the stern of the flagship, watching Varyn disappear into the evening haze. The island looked peaceful again, almost untouched except for the thin columns of smoke still rising from strategic points. In a few years, when the Syndicate's infrastructure was complete, it very well be more prosperous than it had been under independent rule.
That was what she told herself, anyway. That all of this - the conquest, the displacement, the necessary brutality - served a greater good. That the archipelago would be stronger, safer, more prosperous under unified rule than it had ever been as a collection of squabbling independent settlements.
The alternative was to believe that she had become a monster for no purpose greater than her own ambition and wounded pride. That was a possibility she could not allow herself to consider, not if she wanted to remain functional.
"Commander Hofferson," a new voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see a young Syndicate officer approaching with obvious nervousness. "Message from Grimmel the Grisly, sir. Priority one."
Astrid took the sealed message tube and broke it open, scanning its contents quickly. Grimmel's elegant handwriting conveyed approval for the day's operation, along with new intelligence about Berk's defensive preparations and adjusted timelines for the final assault. But it was the postscript that caught her attention:
"Your reputation precedes you now, my dear Astrid. The mere mention of your name strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies. Use this to your advantage - psychological warfare is often more effective than physical conquest. The archipelago is learning to fear the Enforcer of the North. Soon, even Hiccup will understand the futility of resistance."
The Enforcer of the North. The title felt strange, like armor that didn't quite fit properly. But titles, like armor, could be grown into with time and practice. She folded the message and slipped it into her jacket, then returned her attention to the darkening sea.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new conquests, new opportunities to prove that strength was more valuable than sentiment. The Windswept Isles would fall as Varyn had fallen, as a dozen islands before them had fallen. Each victory would bring them closer to the ultimate prize - Berk itself, and the chance to finally show Hiccup the cost of his naive idealism.
But for now, as the stars began to appear overhead and the fleet sailed through waters that grew rougher with each passing mile, Astrid allowed herself one moment of vulnerability. In the privacy of darkness, she whispered a name that no one else could hear, a name that still had the power to make her heart ache despite everything she had done to harden it.
"Hiccup."
The wind carried the word away into the night, where it joined the countless other secrets the sea had swallowed over the years. Tomorrow, she would be the Enforcer again, cold and efficient and utterly dedicated to the Syndicate's cause. But tonight, for just a moment, she was still the girl who had once believed that love could conquer anything.
Even if she no longer believed that girl had been right.
The fleet sailed on through the darkness, leaving behind another conquered island and carrying its commander toward whatever destiny awaited them all in the storm-tossed waters ahead. And in her cabin later that night, as she planned the next day's operations and studied intelligence reports about Berk's defenses, Astrid Hofferson tried very hard not to think about the dreams that still came to her sometimes - dreams of green eyes and gentle hands and a voice that used to whisper her name like a prayer.
Those dreams, like so many other things, were luxuries she could no longer afford. The Enforcer of the North had no time for such weakness, no matter how much the woman she used to be might have cherished them.
The war was far from over, and she had work to do.
Notes:
In this chapter, the Syndicate forces demonstrate their power by launching an invasion on an island. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I’ll see you in the next one! Don’t forget to share your thoughts in the comments and leave a kudos if you liked this work. Thanks for reading and till next Saturday!
Chapter 21: A Skrill's Shadow
Summary:
A Syndicate outpost is mysteriously decimated by a dragon rider and his Skrill, let's see how Grimmel the Grisly takes this new information, also a direct confrontation between old enemies is about to go down!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Northern Markets sprawled along the jagged coastline like a wound that had festered into prosperity. Ramshackle wooden buildings clung to the cliffs, connected by precarious bridges and rope walkways that swayed in the salt-laden wind. The air reeked of fish, tar, and the acrid smoke from countless forge fires, while the constant babble of merchants haggling in a dozen different languages created a symphony of barely contained chaos.
In the deepest shadows of a waterfront alley, where the torchlight barely penetrated and the fog rolled in thick from the churning sea, a cloaked figure moved with predatory grace. The Skrill Rider - for that was how he had become known in the whispered conversations of tavern-goers and dock workers - pulled his hood lower as he approached a ramshackle stall wedged between two crumbling warehouses.
The merchant behind the counter was a wiry man with nervous eyes and fingers stained black from handling questionable goods. He glanced around constantly, as if expecting Syndicate soldiers to materialize from the mist at any moment. When he spotted the approaching figure, his shoulders tensed with the particular anxiety of a man caught between competing dangers.
"You came," the merchant said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wasn't sure you would, after what happened to Korvak's operation last week."
The Skrill Rider's lips curved into a smile that never quite reached his single visible eye, When he spoke, his voice carried the smooth confidence of a man who had built empires through words as much as warfare.
"Korvak was careless," he replied, his tone suggesting that carelessness was a fatal flaw he did not share. "He let his greed overcome his discretion. I, on the other hand, understand the value of... subtlety."
The merchant nodded nervously and produced a wooden crate from beneath his counter. The container was unmarked but sealed with wax and iron bands, and it hummed with an almost imperceptible vibration that spoke of dangerous contents within.
"Deathgripper venom glands," the merchant said, his voice dropping even lower. "Fresh as you can get without harvesting them yourself. Cost me three good men and a ship to acquire these from the Syndicate convoy, just like you requested."
The Skrill Rider examined the crate with the practiced eye of someone who had dealt in exotic and lethal materials for years. His scarred hands traced the seals, checking for signs of tampering or contamination, while his mind calculated the tactical applications of such a prize.
"The extraction was clean?" he asked. "No degradation of the active compounds?"
"Clean as mother's milk," the merchant assured him, though his nervous fidgeting suggested he was eager to complete the transaction and distance himself from such volatile cargo. "My alchemist tested a sample - it'll eat through dragon hide like acid through parchment."
"Excellent." The Skrill Rider produced a leather pouch that clinked with the weight of precious metals. "Your payment, as agreed. And perhaps a bonus for your... discretion... regarding this transaction."
The merchant's eyes widened as he hefted the pouch, clearly surprised by its weight. "This is more than we discussed."
"Consider it an investment in future cooperation," the Skrill Rider replied smoothly. "A man of your particular skills and connections could prove quite valuable in the days to come. The archipelago is changing, and those who position themselves wisely will profit handsomely."
As he secured the crate in a specially designed carrying harness, the merchant leaned closer, his curiosity overcoming his caution. "Mind if I ask what you're planning with that stuff? Word is you've been hitting Syndicate outposts all across the northern routes."
The Skrill Rider paused in his preparations, his single eye fixing on the merchant with an intensity that made the smaller man step back instinctively. "I'm a businessman," he said quietly. "The Syndicate's expansion threatens certain... commercial interests... that I've spent years cultivating. Sometimes, protecting one's investments requires direct action."
"But the risks - Grimmel the Grisly himself is hunting you now. They say he's got mutated Deathgrippers that can track a man across half the archipelago."
A low chuckle escaped the Skrill Rider's lips, a sound like distant thunder. "Grimmel is certainly formidable, but he makes the same mistake that all hunters eventually make - he assumes that his prey will behave predictably. I've built my reputation on being anything but predictable."
Before the merchant could respond, a distant rumble echoed across the harbor, followed by the distinctive crack of lightning striking stone. Both men looked up to see electrical discharge dancing across the fog-shrouded peaks above the market, accompanied by the silhouette of a massive dragon whose scales seemed to pulse with contained energy.
"That would be my transportation," the Skrill Rider said, shouldering his cargo with practiced ease. "I trust you'll forget this conversation ever took place?"
The merchant nodded vigorously, already turning his attention to more mundane customers as the mysterious figure melted back into the shadows. Within moments, the only evidence of the transaction was the lingering scent of ozone and the merchant's nervous glances at the storm-darkened sky.
High above the market, the Skrill Rider emerged onto a windswept cliff where his dragon waited with the patience of a creature that had learned to trust its partner's timing. The Skrill was magnificent in its terrible beauty - twice the size of most dragons, with scales that shifted from deep blue to electric white depending on its mood and energy levels. Lightning played constantly across its hide, creating patterns that seemed almost runic in their complexity.
"Ready for another performance, old friend?" the rider asked, running his hand along the dragon's neck with genuine affection. The Skrill responded with a rumbling purr that sounded like distant thunder, its eyes reflecting the same fierce intelligence that burned in its rider's gaze.
As they took to the air, the Skrill Rider allowed his mind to drift back to the events that had brought him to this point. Three years had passed since he had abandoned his old life - three years since a scrawny Viking boy and his impossible black dragon had shown him that everything he thought he knew about dragons was wrong.
The transition hadn't been easy. Building the Order of the Flame from nothing, establishing trade relationships with European kingdoms hungry for dragon-riding mercenaries, creating a network of trainers and suppliers that spanned half the known world - it had taken every ounce of cunning and ruthlessness he possessed. But the results spoke for themselves. Kings and emperors paid fortunes for his services, and his dragon-riding warriors had turned the tide of a dozen conflicts across the continent.
It was a good life, a profitable life, and he had been content to let the northern archipelago sort out its own problems while he focused on expanding his southern empire. But then Grimmel the Grisly had emerged from whatever hole he'd been hiding in, and everything had changed.
The Syndicate's rapid expansion across the outer islands had been impressive from a tactical standpoint, but it posed a direct threat to his carefully constructed business model. European clients were already expressing concerns about the stability of dragon supplies, and several lucrative contracts had been canceled due to "political uncertainties" in the region. If Grimmel succeeded in conquering the entire archipelago and imposing his vision of dragons as mere tools rather than partners, the ripple effects would destroy everything the Skrill Rider had built.
Which brought him to tonight's target - a heavily fortified Syndicate outpost on the island of Grimgore, where intelligence suggested they were stockpiling both weapons and captured dragons for the upcoming assault on Berk. Eliminating this facility would serve multiple purposes: weakening Grimmel's operational capacity, demonstrating that the Syndicate was not invulnerable, and sending a clear message about the cost of threatening his interests.
The Skrill descended through the storm clouds like a living bolt of lightning, its rider's cloak streaming behind him as they approached the target. Grimgore was a bleak chunk of volcanic rock that jutted from the sea like a broken tooth, its strategic position making it ideal for controlling shipping lanes and staging military operations. The Syndicate had transformed the island's natural caves into a fortress, with watch towers perched on every promontory and dragon pens carved directly into the cliff faces.
"Remember," the Skrill Rider murmured to his dragon as they circled the outpost, "we're not here to massacre the garrison. Enough destruction to cripple their operations, enough chaos to free the captured dragons, but leave enough survivors to carry word back to their masters. Fear is a weapon best wielded with precision."
The Skrill's response was a crackling discharge that lit up the storm clouds, casting eerie shadows across the fortified positions below. Guards shouted in alarm as the massive dragon materialized from the darkness, their crossbows and ballistae swiveling to track the impossible target.
The attack began with surgical precision. The Skrill's first lightning blast struck the main communications tower, silencing the alarm horns and cutting off the garrison's ability to call for reinforcements. The second bolt shattered the dragon pens, freeing a dozen captured creatures who immediately turned on their former captors with savage fury.
As chaos erupted throughout the compound, the Skrill Rider guided his mount in a series of devastating strafing runs. Lightning crashed into weapon depots, setting off spectacular explosions that lit up the night sky. Carefully aimed electrical discharges disabled siege engines and collapsed strategic sections of wall, creating escape routes for the freed dragons while trapping the majority of the garrison in defensible but isolated pockets.
A Syndicate lieutenant - a grizzled veteran with enough scars to suggest he'd survived more than his share of desperate battles - managed to organize a coherent response, directing his remaining archers to concentrate their fire on the Skrill's wings. It was a sound tactical decision, but it failed to account for his opponent's experience with aerial combat.
The Skrill Rider had faced similar situations dozens of times during his mercenary operations in Europe, where dragon-hunting techniques were more advanced and anti-air defenses more sophisticated. He guided his mount through a series of evasive maneuvers that turned the concentrated arrow fire into a liability, using the garrison's own projectiles to trigger additional explosions in their ammunition stores.
"Yield!" he called down to the lieutenant as the Skrill hovered above the compound's central courtyard, electricity crackling between its claws. "Your position is lost, your weapons destroyed, your dragons freed. Further resistance serves no purpose but to increase the casualty count."
The lieutenant's response was predictably defiant - a crossbow bolt aimed at the rider's head that was caught by it‘s very target in mid air. The Skrill Rider sighed, genuinely regretful about the necessity of what came next.
"So be it," he said quietly, and the Skrill unleashed a torrent of lightning that turned the remaining siege engines into molten slag.
The message was clear: surrender or face complete annihilation. Faced with such overwhelming force and the total destruction of their defensive capabilities, the surviving garrison members began throwing down their weapons. The battle was over.
As the Skrill landed in the compound's courtyard, the Skrill Rider dismounted and began his inspection of the facility. The intelligence had been accurate - the Syndicate had indeed been stockpiling weapons and supplies for their upcoming operations. More disturbing were the dragon training facilities he discovered in the lower levels, complete with apparatus clearly designed to break a dragon's spirit through pain and conditioning.
"Disgusting," he muttered, examining a set of neural control devices that would have allowed handlers to override a dragon's natural instincts with venom. "Grimmel truly doesn't understand what he's dealing with."
He spent the next hour systematically destroying the most dangerous equipment while allowing the captured dragons to escape into the storm. Some of the creatures - mostly Nadders and Gronckles who had been recently captured - fled immediately. Others, particularly a scarred Monstrous Nightmare who had clearly been imprisoned for some time, lingered near the courtyard as if uncertain about their newfound freedom.
"Go," the Skrill Rider said gently, approaching the Nightmare with the slow, careful movements of someone who understood dragon psychology. "You're free now. Find your way home, or find a new one. But don't let anyone put you in chains again."
The Nightmare regarded him with ancient, intelligent eyes, then spread its wings and launched itself into the storm with a roar that spoke of both gratitude and renewed defiance.
As dawn began to lighten the eastern horizon, the Skrill Rider completed his work and prepared to depart. The outpost was thoroughly crippled but not completely destroyed - exactly the message he had intended to send. Grimmel would understand that his expansion was not unopposed, that there were forces in the archipelago capable of striking back at his operations. Whether the hunter would be deterred or merely angered remained to be seen.
Before leaving, he approached the Syndicate lieutenant, who was tending to wounded soldiers in what remained of the compound's infirmary. The man looked up with a mixture of fear and defiance as the cloaked figure entered.
"You fought well," the Skrill Rider said, his tone respectful. "Your tactical responses were sound, given the circumstances. You should consider finding employment with someone who values competence over brutality."
The lieutenant spat blood from a split lip. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm a businessman protecting his interests," came the calm reply. "As for what I want - tell your masters that the north is not theirs for the taking. There are older powers in these waters, older alliances that they would be wise to respect."
"Grimmel doesn't fear old powers."
"Perhaps he should learn to." The Skrill Rider turned toward the door, then paused. "One more thing - when you make your report, be sure to mention that I'm traveling north. Toward Berk. I suspect Grimmel will find that information... illuminating."
The lieutenant's eyes widened at the implication, but before he could respond, the mysterious figure had vanished into the pre-dawn gloom. Moments later, the distinctive crack of lightning announced the Skrill's departure, leaving behind only smoldering ruins and unanswered questions.
As they flew north through the storm, the Skrill Rider allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The strike against Grimgore had achieved its immediate objectives - disrupting Syndicate operations, freeing captured dragons, and sending a clear message about the consequences of threatening his business interests. But it was merely the opening move in a much larger game.
Hiccup Haddock represented something unique in the dragon-riding world - a leader who had achieved genuine partnership with his mount rather than mere dominance. The boy's approach to dragon-human relations had revolutionary implications, and his success in defending Berk against multiple threats suggested tactical brilliance to match his idealistic vision.
More importantly from a purely practical standpoint, Hiccup's continued independence served as a crucial buffer against Syndicate expansion. As long as Berk remained free, there would be a rallying point for resistance throughout the archipelago. If Berk fell, the dominoes would topple rapidly, and the entire northern dragon trade would come under Grimmel's control.
The Skrill Rider had no intention of allowing that to happen. His southern empire depended on the continued availability of diverse dragon bloodlines, and Grimmel's vision of dragons as mere tools would eventually lead to their degradation through overbreeding and abuse. From both a moral and economic standpoint, the hunter had to be stopped.
Which meant that Hiccup Haddock, whether he knew it or not, was about to gain a very dangerous ally.
The storm was beginning to clear by the time they reached the Northern Markets again, and the Skrill Rider could see the first fishing boats heading out for their morning catch. The normal rhythms of life continued even as war threatened to engulf the entire region - a reminder that whatever grand plans he and Grimmel might have, ordinary people would ultimately bear the cost of their conflict.
He guided the Skrill to a hidden cave on an uninhabited island several miles from the main trading routes, where he maintained one of several supply caches scattered throughout the region. The cave had been carefully prepared with everything necessary for extended operations - food, fresh water, weapons, and most importantly, quite a few terrible terrors, a system that allowed him to stay in contact with his agents throughout the archipelago.
As the Skrill settled down to rest after their night's exertions, the rider began composing encrypted messages to his network of informants and allies. The strike against Grimgore would send ripples throughout the region, and he needed to be prepared for Grimmel's inevitable response. More immediately, he needed current intelligence on Berk's defenses and Hiccup's tactical capabilities.
The messages were brief but comprehensive, written in a code that would be meaningless to anyone who intercepted them but crystal clear to their intended recipients. By nightfall, his agents in ports from the Murderous Isles to the Defenders of the Wing territory would be gathering the information he needed to plan his next moves.
As he worked, his mind kept returning to the last conversation he'd had with Hiccup Haddock, three years ago in a cave at Trader Johanns‘s base. The boy had grown considerably since then - the reports from Berk's recent battles suggested a leader who had learned to balance idealism with pragmatism, who could make hard decisions when necessary while never losing sight of his core principles.
Whether Hiccup would welcome his intervention remained to be seen. Their previous relationship had been complicated at best, built on mutual respect that was constantly undermined by conflicting methodologies and moral frameworks. The Skrill Rider had no illusions about being welcomed as a returning hero - at best, he would be viewed with suspicion; at worst, as just another threat to be neutralized.
But that was a problem for the future. For now, he had work to do and a war to influence from the shadows. Grimmel the Grisly was about to learn that the northern archipelago held more surprises than he had anticipated, and that some storms could not be weathered through force alone.
As the sun set over the churning waters, the Skrill Rider settled in to wait for the responses to his messages, his single eye reflecting the dying light like a star born from darkness and determination. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities, and perhaps the beginning of an alliance that could change the course of the coming war.
The game was far from over, and he intended to win.
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! There is truly a lot of work going into these chapters, it would be really nice if you could press the Kudos button and leave some positive feedback in the comments!
Have a good week yall!
Marce7411 on Chapter 1 Sat 12 Oct 2024 09:44PM UTC
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