Stoick Sixteen years. Sixteen years since they declared my son dead. Now, we hunt for a dragon’s nest, and something feels…wrong. The attacks have ceased for a year. I’ve gathered a small force – Gobber, Spitelout, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and, regrettably, Mildew. He claims one good run left in him. “Stoick,” Spitelout called, pointing. “Island ahead.” He handed me a spyglass—Hiccup’s own. I peered through it, a knot forming in my chest. It was true. An island, rising from the sea. “Steer for it, Gobber.” We weren’t far. “People on the dock,” I observed, my gaze drifting behind them. A multitude of dragons massed behind those people. “What in the name of Thor?!”
“Dragons,” Spitelout grunted, gripping his mace.
We docked, and I reached for my sword. “Wouldn’t do that, lad,” a man warned, his voice calm but firm. “Best leave your weapons.”
“Why in Thor’s name would we?” I challenged, hand still hovering over my hilt.
“Want to live?”
I sighed, defeated. Slowly, I unsheathed my sword and dropped it. I glanced at the others. They followed suit. “We shouldn’t be here, Stoick. They’ve sided with demons,” Mildew muttered.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, but shut up and listen,” I growled.
“My name is Eret. Our Chief wants to see you.”
“And who might your chief be?” Astrid inquired, her eyes narrowed.
“You will see soon. First, promise you won’t harm the dragons.”
“Why should we?” my nephew blurted.
“Think about it. If you even *think* about hurting one, the Chief will rip your head off with his bare hands. Trust me, you don’t want to see that.”
Astrid We disembarked, and Eret led us around the island. "Where are you taking us?" I asked, my pace quickening.
"To our Great Hall."
This island was massive, unlike anything I’d seen. I didn't notice a girl walking in front of me until I glanced down. She was maybe ten years old, with striking blue-green eyes and hair a mix of auburn and black. She looked…like a girl version of Hiccup.
“S…sorry,” she stuttered, her voice a shy whisper. It was the same voice Hiccup used to use. It was… endearing.
“Scy,” Eret called. “Odhtss disbemt soeus.”
The girl giggled and ran to a Deadly Nadder. "What the hell was that?" Mildew asked, looking confused.
“Dragonese. We speak it here.”
“You speak dragon?” Fishlegs asked, incredulous.
“You speaking Norse,” Spitelout retorted.
“Can you speak dragon, fool?”
We all fell silent.
Stoick We reached the Great Hall—a cavernous space. Eret pushed open the doors, revealing a sea of faces: dragons and people, all staring at us with a hostile expression. “I don’t like this,” Gobber mumbled. I ignored him and focused on the man standing before us. He was in his twenties, smiling, and…uncomfortably familiar.
Eret walked over to the man and stood beside him, along with a raven-haired girl. "Well, this is something you don't see every day, Stoick the Vast, weaponless," he smirked.
“Who are you?!” I roared.
“You will not know now.” He then stood up and walked toward us, speaking in that guttural dragon language. “Sosydu diwbrdud?”
Hiccup They’re fools. They don’t even realize it’s me. Stoick and the rest of the Hooligans stood before me, disarmed, at my feet. "Well, this is something you don't see every day, Stoick the Vast, weaponless," I said, savoring the moment. "Who are you?!" My ‘father’ yelled.
"You will not know now." I walked toward them, then turned to Eret. "Sosydu diwbrdud? (Did you find my daughter out there?)"
As I spoke, a Deadly Nadder roared in response. Perfect timing. “Scy,” I said as she landed beside Stoick. He took one look at her and glared at me.
“Why do you glare at me, Stoick? I should be the one glaring,” I taunted. “After all the years you and your Hooligans have treated me.”
“We don’t even know you,” Snotlout yelled, frustration evident in his voice.
“You really are fools, aren’t you,” I said, watching my daughter giggle.
“You must realize something about Scy here,” I continued. "Dad?" Scy asked in dragonese. “You must be wondering ‘Why does he look so familiar?'” Stoick finally stood, and Toothless let out a low growl—a warning. "Just give me the word, Hiccup," I heard from Toothless, his voice a rumble in my mind. I placed my hand on Toothless reassuringly. "How can you not know your own son, Stoick?" I asked, watching the Hooligans' confusion give way to understanding. “What do you have to say…huh…father?”