The Rebirth Of A Dragon

Point of View: Hiccup

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I gave a sharp whistle.

It cut clean through the smoke and screams below—high and commanding. A signal, not a request.

Two dragons peeled away from the upper currents like shadows slipping off the wind. Not my vanguard. Just loyal enough to obey. Their wings folded briefly before they plunged downward into the chaos. I didn't need to see the grab to know it happened.

They always obeyed.

Astrid shifted in my lap as I leaned back on the warm black stone, my arms still loosely coiled around her waist. She didn't even flinch as the Green Death's tail swept through a distant war machine, launching splinters of wood and limbs alike across the battlefield like toys tossed into the sea.

She was smiling.

A soft, pleased expression. The kind a child might wear watching embers dance in a hearth.

Luna lay beside us in her Night Fury form, tail swaying lazily. Her body curved protectively near Astrid's side, but her head tilted forward as she watched the slaughter below with quiet delight. Her gaze had the look of a dragon studying an ant nest—amused, but unbothered.

A thud landed behind us. Then another.

I didn't turn.

Gobber's voice groaned behind me. "Never thought I'd miss solid ground this much..."

Then, the sound of him kissing it.

I laughed—low and quiet. Not because it was funny. But because it was ridiculous.

A second voice followed, rough and staggered.

Footsteps scraping against stone.

Breath too shallow to be steady.

I turned my head.

Stoick was on his feet—barely. He looked like a man who'd just crawled out of a grave. Soot-streaked, armor battered, eyes wide. His whole body trembled with exhaustion and disbelief. Blood crusted his arm where a blade must've nicked him mid-fall. But the wound wasn't the worst of it.

No.

It was his face.

The way he looked at me. At Astrid. At Luna.

And at the battlefield below, where everything he'd ever built—his legacy, his army, his bloodline—burned.

Finally, he found his voice.

"Was this your plan?" he spat, his voice hoarse. "To destroy us? To kill all of Berk's warriors?!"

I met his gaze calmly, then slowly leaned forward and whispered into Astrid's ear, "You'll want to stand for this."

She gave a soft hum of disappointment as she rose from my lap, then stepped to my side with elegance—like a queen leaving her throne.

I rose to my full height, letting the heat of the stone fuel the burn beneath my skin.

And I smiled.

"Now you care?" I asked, voice like ice carving into flesh. "Now you speak like a man with a heart?"

Stoick didn't answer. He was too busy trying to keep breathing.

I stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. Each footfall echoed on the stone like a drumbeat for the dead.

"Where was this fire when I was younger?" I asked. "Where was your voice when I was cast out by the very village you led? When they looked at me like I was a mistake? When I was beaten bloody behind your back and told I should've never been born?"

He flinched.

Good.

I circled around him slowly, watching his every twitch.

"You were too busy with glory. With war. With chasing the next dragon kill. But me? I was just the weakling. The failure. The afterthought."

I paused behind him.

"Until I wasn't."

I stepped around to face him again.

"I gave you what you wanted. Didn't I?" I asked, head tilted. "The location of the nest. The opportunity. The glory you always chased. You didn't ask why. You didn't hesitate. You took it, Stoick. Like always."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"And now," I continued, voice cold and sharp as volcanic glass, "look what it cost you."

I swept my hand toward the battlefield.

"Your warriors. Your weapons. Your brother."

His breath caught.

"Ah," I smiled, eyes narrowing. "You hadn't realized yet? Spitelout... I think I heard him scream. Or maybe that was someone else. Honestly, they all sounded the same when the fire hit them."

Stoick staggered back a step.

Gobber remained silent—face tight, gaze lowered. He wouldn't look at me.

But I wasn't done.

I stepped in close. So close I could see the sweat pooling in Stoick's brow, the flicker of fear behind the grief.

"But none of that broke me," I said, soft as silk. "Not the beatings. Not the loneliness. Not you."

He stared at me, chest heaving.

I leaned forward.

"Do you want to know what did?"

I didn't wait for a response.

"My knowledge."

He blinked.

"What... what do you mean?"

I pulled back slightly, letting the silence stretch before answering.

"I know things you don't," I said. "Things that tear you apart once you see them clearly. I know how this world works. I know what's coming for it. And I know its lies. Especially... the one you clung to most."

I looked him dead in the eyes.

"Valka is alive."

He froze.

Everything in him stopped.

"She didn't die," I said softly. "She wasn't taken. She wasn't killed. No, she chose to stay. With the dragons. With the very things you built your life around hating."

I watched the understanding rip into him.

"She abandoned you," I said. "She abandoned me. She chose the war. She chose the sky."

I stepped closer, voice dropping into a whisper of pure cruelty.

"She knew what was happening to me in Berk. She knew what you were turning me into. And she still didn't come back."

He said nothing.

He couldn't.

I turned slightly, letting the fire reflect in my eyes.

"That's what broke me," I said. "Not you. Not Berk. Her. Knowing she was out there... and left me in that pit to rot."

Behind me, Astrid stood like stone. Luna's tail wrapped tightly around her, shielding her like a sentry, but both were watching Stoick now—watching him unravel.

I stepped back, arms folding behind me.

"But I'm not without mercy," I said. "You'll live. Both of you."

Gobber looked up, finally.

Stoick was still staring at the ground.

"That's my gift to you," I said with a cruel smile. "You get to live with it. The knowledge that everything you built is dead. That the woman you loved chose dragons over you. And that the son you discarded..."

I glanced over my shoulder, eyes glowing in the firelight.

"...is the very monster you made."

Astrid came to stand at my side.

Luna lifted her head and growled softly, not at threat—but in pride.

Below us, the battlefield was silent.

Only the crackle of fire remained.

Only ash.

Only ruin.