Dragon racing

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Like many things, Satan was too damn big to participate in the dragon racing. While dragons like Toothless and Stormfly, who was now freshly recovered, could dart between the small gaps in the sea stacks or swoop down to pluck a sheep between the trees Satan could only plot through them. Strangely enough Berk voted against him demolishing the entire island for the sake of dragon racing, though you found way to make yourself useful during such times.

As you'd heard, and recently observed, Snotlout, Eret and the twins cheating had been getting out of hand for a while. You and Satan were now formal referees, watching for any illegal moves, such as attacking opponents with your dragon or any kind of weapon. Pushing was allowed but frowned on, however with the biggest trained dragon on Berk watching them it seemed to discourage any particularly rough shoving.

You were as ever hoping Astrid and Stormfly would win, but most days Toothless and Hiccup stole the show. It wasn't hard to see why, the Nightfury was simply built for speed and agility. It had been an interesting experiment to race Toothless and Satan, as it turned out your Nightmare could out pace the small Nightfury in a straight line. However he simply was too big to make the sharp turns that Toothless could, so the Nightfury was still the superior flyer.

Still, you were the undisputed law bringer of Berk, although you didn't have any actual law bringers. At least none that required the attention of you and Satan, though you did get called out to Shepard a large group of escaped sheep back into their stables. You looked out over the sea, a habit you'd grown into recently.

Again thoughts of home came back to you, about Ashfield, about the legion, about your father. Of course you were still happy here, you had been all but accepted by the Vikings, you'd become a couple with Astrid and you now had your dragon. Life didn't get much better, but the call of blood was strong. You were a knight after all and as you'd said many times before, Knights lived for war. The Vikings had of course had their own conflicts like any people, but it wasn't inherently build into them. They caught to live, you live to fight.

Satan too had a bloodlust you sensed rise on occasion, one that matched your nown. The battle you fought in before being sent overboard, where you watched your father die, had been a confusing time for you. The terror before the bate was almost bowel loosening, you wanted to turn and run. Yet when you were in the actual battle, fighting for your life and the risk of death everywhere, you never felt so alive in your life. The same as when you fought Satan, you were at the height of your senses.

It was what you were born to do, what you were made to do. You and you dragon were twin spirits in a way, you were both wolves living among the sheep. You patted his head softly, scratching him behind the ears. As usual you got a nice purr out of the oversized lizard, clearly peace time had at least some perks.

You heard shuffling next behind you, turning around you saw nothing. But you could have sworn you heard something approach, weird. Satan hadn't noticed, then again he didn't notice much these days. He's become far to accustomed to living on berk where he was fed regularly.

Turning back to the races you kept an eye out for the twins, the most common offenders in these races. Astrid had a hold of a sheep and Stormfly was beating her wings to get away from Snotlout coming up behind her on Hookfang, judging by his flight path he was going to try and grab the sheep out of her hands.

"Stormfly, dive!" Astrid called out. The Deadly Nadder responded instantly as she tucked her wings and went into free fall, out turning the larger dragon. Hookfang was game though and gave chase, imitating her and rolling with her. Stormfly sudden tried to angle herself while causing Hookfang to slam into her, Astrid lost her hold on the sheep and it fell with them. There was a great whooshing sound, then Toothless had the sheep with Hiccup flying next to him in his winged suit.

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