The Rebirth Of A Dragon

Point of View: Hiccup

The fools were cheering.

Down below, on the blackened shores of the nest, the Berkians roared in hollow triumph. Their weapons raised. Their voices loud. As if they had already slain a queen.

I watched them from above, perched atop one of the broken stone pillars that towered over the volcanic terrain. They looked so small—so confident. So utterly pathetic.

I didn't smile.

Not yet.

Because I felt it.

The slow rumble.

The tremor beneath my feet.

The way the air thickened, pulsed, shifted—not from celebration, but from something far older, far deeper, and far more enraged than any of them could ever comprehend.

She was waking up.

And they didn't even know it.

A bitter laugh caught in my throat, and I let it slip free. Quiet. Cruel. Cold.

Astrid turned her head slightly, her axe balanced on her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and arched a brow at me. "That's it?" she asked, lips tugging into a smirk. "I was expecting more blood, to be honest... my love."

Luna, in her human form beside me, scoffed with a melodic hum. "They usually scatter faster than that when she's angry," she said. "I've seen it before."

I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing as the firelight from below flickered against her silver-streaked hair. "They do scatter," I said. "Because she usually doesn't leave the pit. She lets the weaklings do her work."

Then my tone dropped, a low growl threading my words.

"But not this time. This time... the lazy bitch is crawling out herself."

That's when it began.

The tremor beneath us deepened. A groan echoed through the stone. The massive rock face Stoick's men had shattered to breach the nest began to shudder. Dust slipped down its jagged surface like sweat down a dying man's brow.

The nest had stopped pretending to be dead.

And it was furious.

I stood.

Slow. Deliberate. No rush. No panic.

Only certainty.

Astrid didn't move as I stepped behind her. She simply looked ahead, ready—like she was born to face the end without blinking. My arms slid around her waist, firm and possessive, and I pulled her back into me until her spine rested against my chest. I dipped my head until my chin touched the curve of her shoulder, letting my breath warm the edge of her jaw.

"You look beautiful like this," I whispered.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like a goddess watching her enemies burn."

She shivered, just slightly.

Luna stepped closer and reached out, brushing her fingers along Astrid's cheek before placing a soft kiss on it—tender, amused, and utterly affectionate. "She is our storm," Luna murmured.

I kissed the side of Astrid's neck in agreement.

Ours.

Always.

The stone beneath us vibrated harder. The heat in the air thickened like the breath of a beast rising from a nightmare.

I straightened. "Veil," I called.

A shimmer peeled away from the pillar beside us—like reality itself was being unzipped—and Veil, my Changewing, stepped into view. Slender. Poised. Deadly.

"Mission complete," she said with a short bow. "The Nightmares are in position. They await your command."

I gave her a nod.

No questions.

No explanations.

That part of the game hadn't begun yet.

"Good," I said simply. "Stay hidden until I say otherwise."

She vanished again without a sound—just a ripple in the air.

Luna let out a pleased hum. "Everything's falling into place."

"Oh," I said, eyes glinting as I looked back toward the shoreline. "It always does."

Down below, the Berkians were just beginning to realize something was wrong. Their cheering had dulled into murmurs. Uneasy glances were being exchanged. Stoick stood at the forefront of their formation, just past the wooden spikes and sharpened defenses they'd spent all morning building. He was staring at the trembling breach—jaw clenched, body stiff.

He'd felt it too.

He barked out orders, voice sharp and commanding.

"Positions! Now!"

The illusion of victory shattered.

The celebration turned into confusion, then into the first pangs of dread.

Luna's emerald eyes locked on mine, glowing like wildfire. "They're starting to understand, aren't they?"

I smiled.

Not kindly.

Not sympathetically.

But with the satisfaction of a man who's spent every second planning their failure.

"They'll understand more soon," I said. "Much more."

Astrid leaned back into me, her voice steady but eager. "How long do you think she'll take?"

"Not long now," I said. "She's been hungry. The island feels it. The nest feels it. Everything's cracking because she's finally moving."

Another quake ripped through the stone, this one sharper. Some of the humans lost their footing. Their catapults rattled. Spears fell. Armor clanked. I could smell the fear beginning to roll off their skin like steam off a forge.

I inhaled deeply.

Let it settle in my lungs.

Delicious.

"I'm going to enjoy this," I muttered. "Watching them realize how little their blades and fire mean. Watching their hope turn to ash before she even roars."

Astrid turned her head slightly and kissed my cheek.

"They'll scream first," she said.

Luna grinned. "And burn after."

I took their hands in mine, holding them both tightly as the final tremor surged through the stone beneath our feet.

"She's awake," I whispered.

"And now..."

I looked toward the broken entrance of the nest, the one the Berkians believed had already been conquered.

"...now the real battle begins."

Stoic point of view:

The dragons were gone.

The sky still trembled with the wind of their wings, but the nest... the nest remained.

Still.

Too still.

I took one last look into the blackness of the mountain breach, unease crawling under my skin like frostbite. Something wasn't right. Hiccup had handed us this location like it was nothing. The dragons had fled without resistance. It was too clean. Too easy.

"Back in formation!" I bellowed suddenly, my voice cutting through the false celebration. "Now! All of you! Shields up, spears forward. This isn't over."

The warriors below faltered, confused. Some turned toward me in disbelief—others had already started cheering. But that cheer was dying in their throats.

Because they saw it too.

Inside the path we'd carved into the mountain—where rock met darkness—cracks were forming. Deep, violent fissures that spread through stone like veins bulging beneath strained skin.

Then—

The roar came.

A sound unlike anything I'd ever heard. Not a battle cry. Not the scream of a dying dragon.

This was the world breaking open.

A roar that shook the bones of the earth and tore through my body like lightning.

The wind of it slammed into me before the sound had fully reached my ears. I stumbled back, unbalanced, boots dragging across fractured stone. My shield arm lifted instinctively—but it wouldn't matter. Not against this.

And then I saw it.

Something was coming.

Fast.

Huge.

Unstoppable.

There was no time.

"Fall back!" I roared as I turned and threw myself down the rock face. "Everyone move! Get away from the breach! Back to the beach!"

I didn't wait to see if they obeyed.

I hit the sand hard, my knee bending wrong, pain jolting up my leg—but I didn't stop. I scrambled backward, eyes fixed on the breach.

Gobber caught me halfway. "Stoick, what in Hel's—?!"

Then it hit.

The nest's entrance exploded outward as if the mountain itself had been punched from the inside. Stone shattered. Smoke poured out like a living thing. And from the wound in the volcano—

She came.

The head alone was the size of a house. Fangs like iron spears. Emerald eyes burning like wildfire. Horns curling back like jagged obsidian.

She forced her way out, scales grinding against stone as the narrow tunnel cracked wider with every monstrous push. The mountain groaned in protest, chunks of rock crashing to the ground as her body—a thing that should not have been able to move—clawed its way into the open world.

A beast of the deep, buried for centuries.

A queen of death.

Gobber whispered beside me, breath stolen by terror.

"Beard of Thor... what is that?"

I couldn't answer.

Because I didn't know.

Because it wasn't a dragon. Not like the others.

This... this was something older. Something primordial.

Her neck dragged behind her like the spine of a mountain, plates of stone-colored scale shifting like armor, every motion shaking the island. She shoved against the entrance again, forcing her massive frame through the volcanic wall with brute strength, cracks spiderwebbing around her.

She wasn't just emerging.

She was birthing herself through solid stone.

And as I stood there, helpless to do anything but watch, I realized something chilling.

Hiccup knew.

This was what he was waiting for.

He had sent us here—not for victory.

For slaughter.

"My Odin help us..." I muttered, voice hollow.

Because we were not at war with dragons.

We were standing against a mountain.

And every weapon we'd brought was made for fighting things that bled.

This—

This didn't bleed.