Soul of the Sky (HTTYD Runaway Fic)

War

Omniscient
"Why'd ye do it, Stoick?" the grizzled blacksmith asks, startling the chief from his reverie. "Do what?"
"Promise not to attack the dragons. Ye of all people seem like the last who would say such a thing." Stoick stares into the distance as if trying to see beyond the Archipelago. "For Hiccup's sake. If there's even the slightest chance that he's alive..." He trails off. "He's all I have left. All of the dragons I could kill in a lifetime, their deaths won't bring him or Val back. But not killing them means a chance to see my son again."

Such sentiments from the Chief of Berk are surprising, to say the least. Stoick isn't known for his forgiving nature or ability to take the long view. "What'll ye do if they dinna find him?" Gobber asks, voicing their unspoken thoughts. Stoick doesn't respond. He himself doesn't know.

Hiccup had always been different. Stoick had often worried that he'd not survive to adulthood, killed by a haywire invention or a dragon attack. He'd never been able to communicate properly with his son, but he still loved the boy and regretted all the things he'd never had the chance to tell him. Gothi's vision seemed too good to be true, a chance to fix his past mistakes and have his family back. The idea of his hopes being crushed again brings a bitter taste to his mouth, the flame in his heart flaring up again despite his attempts to quench it.

The squeak of a Terrible Terror interrupts the conversation. The small green dragon lands on Gobber's shoulder, quickly jumping onto a nearby bench as the blacksmith startles. It waves its foreleg, exposing the scroll tied onto it.
Stoick gingerly reaches for the paper. When no attacks are forthcoming, he quickly yanks it off. Written on the paper is a short message and a map.

Dad,
Dragon's Edge is under attack by Hunters. Their ships are dragon proof and there are hundreds of them. Without backup, they'll take the Edge and kill us all.
Please help us. You're our only hope of survival.
P.S. Don't let the messenger return to us until this blows over, she's with clutch and will be in too much danger.

Stoick stares at the paper. Hunters? Attack? He has so many questions, but there's no time to waste. His best warriors are under threat, along with...
The message was addressed to 'Dad'. Written in the familiar spidery script he'd seen on so many blueprints in the forge.
His only child was in danger, and Stoick wouldn't fail him a second time.

*    *    *    *    *

Dragon's Edge, Six Hours Earlier...
Hiccup
Last night's discussion had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. I'd expected tension in the morning, but that was wiped away by the hilarity of Hookfang attempting to flirt with Kizar. You didn't have to speak Dragonese to understand that the other Nightmare was clearly not amused by his antics.

I was currently showing the others around the Edge. There had been a minor hiccup - no pun intended - when Toothless and I jumped from the tower and remembered that Vikings didn't have wings, but the willing assistance of a passing flock of Gronckles solved that problem.

"And over there," I announced, gesturing dramatically to an open building off the main 'street' - a raised walkway above the forest - "is the forges. Note the Hotburple napping by the hearth. That's Grump, who keeps the fires alight when he's awake. Hi, Aevar, need a hand?" The last was directed to a stressed-looking Stormcutter trying to untangle a hatchling Zippleback. "No, I've got it." she responded, pulling the younger dragon's heads apart. "Stop fighting!" she scolded.

"That's not her kid." Tuffnut commented. "No, she's taking care of them for their parents." I responded absently. "Here is the 'Great Hall', as you would say. It's bigger than the one on Berk, and is also the location of some secret passages into the underground caves. We use those to shelter during storms. And over here is the watchtower access." Before us was a zip line pitching steeply downwards. "How do we.." Before Snotlout could finish his sentence, I grabbed the handle and jumped out over the chasm. The end of the cable sent me flying upwards, and I landed with a backflip because who doesn't love showing off? "You coming?" I yelled to the terrified looking Vikings.
One by one, the others followed. The twins loved it, Snotlout screamed, Astrid rolled her eyes but did it anyway, and Fishlegs fell off. Don't worry, Meatlug caught him.

"From the top of this tower, you have a lovely view." I narrated, pretending to be a real-estate agent. Wait, those don't exist yet. Whoops. "You can see the sunset, the sea, the lovely Night Terror displays and of course the approaching Dragon Hunter armada. Wait, WHAT!" I yelled as my eyes finally connected with my brain instead of bypassing directly to my mouth.

And we're screwed.

Astrid
The next few hours were a blur. Hiccup calling out instructions to passing dragons, helping to get the defences up, and surveying the enemy fleet. There were a surprising number of hatchlings that had to be flown to safety, along with the injured and sick. There were only a few of those. Dragons are tough creatures.

"I count two...no, three hundred ships." Snotlout reported. "All armed to the teeth."
A meeting was being held in the Dragon's Edge equivalent of the Great Hall. The playful mood of earlier had gone out the window. Even the twins were being serious. At least, as serious as two destruction-loving, immature devotees of Loki can be.

Hiccup turned to one of the dragons, saying something in Dragonese. I couldn't understand the response, but judging by their reaction it must have been bad. He turned to the watchers, speaking Norse for our benefit. "Stormfly, Windshear, gather your group and attack from the left. Hookfang, Shiverwing, you do the same on the right. Barf, Belch, take the twins and go cause destruction. Aevar and Meatlug, your group will help Atali get the rest of the hatchlings to safety. Sharpshot's on watch, he'll blow the horn. Once if you need to retreat and twice if more are coming. I'll need some volunteers on rescue duty."

Almost every dragon in the room responded. Hiccup pointed out around thirty of them. "You know the drill. The rest of you, you'll be on the walls and in the air around the island. Don't let Hunters land. Toothless and I will pick them off from the skies. Good luck, and try not to die." he concluded with his signature sarcastic humour.

Hiccup was a surprisingly efficient commander, quickly organising the draconic chaos into some semblance of a defensible position. He and Toothless worked together like they could read each other's minds. To be honest, they probably could. And the dragons followed and mobilised into battle units like they'd done this a thousand times before. The general mood was not chaotic but orderly, if nervous.

We'd all beat ourselves up when we'd realised what had followed us home. "How could I have been so stupid!" Hiccup had cursed. "Viggo outplayed us, and now the Edge is exposed and we're done." I suspected his lack of foresight had something to do with the stress of being unmasked.

Before the massed crowd could make a move, a lone Razorwhip flew erratically into the hall. He or she yelled something, sounding panicked. Hiccup looked shocked. He called out new instructions in rapid-fire Dragonese, too fast to follow. As hundreds of dragons took to the skies, he scribbled something on a piece of paper. "What is it?" I asked. "The ships are dragon-proof." he responded. "We don't have the resources or the equipment to hold them off for long, so I'm calling for reinforcements." He handed the paper to the Terror perched on his shoulder, muttering something. "From where?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

"Berk."