Promises, Promises (HTTYD × Reader)

Chores

Your POV

Excitedly you grabbed Hiccup's hand, pulling him back towards were Toothless, Cloudjumper, and Zyphur waited at the top of the little knoll. The ground could be slick, especially this time of year as the melting ice created numerous waterfalls and navigating the mossy land was treacherous enough with two regular legs, let alone a metal one. You made sure he was safely in the saddle before you mounted your Razorwhip. Together, you circled the nest as you let out a shrill whistle.

Dragons from all over the nest, there must have been at least a thousand, certainly more than any of your ancestors had seen, all turned their heads to look at you. You knew each of them by name, some of the you had met on rescue missions, others were hatchlings you had help rear, but most of them had raised you. It astounded you just how many of the dragons had managed to escape the Shellfire attack by hiding inside the mountain all those months ago.

Suddenly, Sparks the Dramillion came up to you. He looked at you with the same question in his eyes that was always there when you gave the call. You nodded and whistled again. Sparks, for whatever reason, was always hungry, so you gave him your word that he would be the first to know when it was time to feast. You made another pass around the nest. Zyphur and Sparks roaring to get the other dragons' attention.

On your way out of the nest, you and Zyphur stopped by a little alcove where you kept a few baskets. You used them to bring back fish for the injured and babies since they rarely ventured out of the nest. You felt bad for them. To yearn for the feeling of flying, you couldn't imagine. Scratch that, you could imagine, it's why you worked so hard to redesign your flight rig.

Zyphur roared impatiently at you as you checked the food supply. The biggest basket was about half empty. That would work for this meal and then you would have to refill it. You flipped the top open and, tossing a sea slug to Zyphur, slipped your arms into the leather carrying straps, biting back a groan of pain. You clipped the chest buckle to ensure it didn't fall off mid-flight then scrambled back in the saddle. Zyphur gave you an annoyed look.

You shrugged and asked, "What? Are you pouting? I thought you were better than that. Besides, you would want me to keep feeding you if you were hurt, wouldn't you?"

Zyphur relented, crooning softly. She wanted to be with Cloudjumper at the front of the pack so she didn't have to fight through a tangled mess for fish. You understood the sentiment. There had been one too many incidents where she got too close to the other dragons and they had picked fights with her. That's why you secretly gave her an extra sea slug every time you needed to refill a basket since it took longer to get out to the feeding grounds. She was spoilt and you knew it, but you didn't care so long as it was your little secret.

Gliding over the mass of flying dragons, high enough that you could let your fingers trace across the icy roof, Zyphur brought the two of you out of the alcove. She had almost made it completely out of the nest when you heard a complaining little warble. You were so focused on keeping the basket steady that you almost missed it. Zyphur, come on. You know that we can't leave yet.

In the chaos, you spotted a few more of your friends: Goof the Hobgobbler who you had found on a hunter ship while trying to rescue Dagur's Shattermaster, Helix the Scuttleclaw a hatchling with big yellow eyes, and Bolt the Terrible Terror who was your personal mailman. They were trying to console Stormbreath the Raincutter. He was distraught, probably thinking you had forgotten about him. He was one of the dragons who couldn't join in the tumultuous frenzy of the feeding ground. His wing was sliced by razor netting while flying to the nest a few weeks before. You were still working on a way to help him heal, though you were almost certain that he would be grounded forever. You weren't willing to give up quite yet.