Secret of a Dragon (An HTTYD Story)

2: Confrontation

As the sun makes its steady journey over Berk, Hiccup begins to wonder just how much more of this he can take.

After he shot down the Night Fury (he did, he really did), a Monstrous Nightmare had appeared to investigate the source of his shouting, and the chief -- who also just so happened to be his father -- had to rescue him. Unfortunately, no one believed him when he told them about the Night Fury, not that he'd really expected much. To add insult to injury, a large torch had fallen, ravaging the village on its way down, and his father had sent him home in shame. Gobber had to escort him, but dealing with a moody teen isn't easy.

"I really did hit one."

"Sure, Hiccup."

"He never listens."

"Well, it runs in the family."

"And when he does, it's always with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich." Irritated, Hiccup turned to Gobber and started imitating his father. " 'Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on this side! This here, this is a talkin' fishbone!' "

"Now, you're thinkin' about this all wrong," Gobber interrupted. "It's not so much what you look like, it's what inside that he can't stand."

The look Hiccup gave him was a mix of exasperation, frustration, and confusion. "Thank you for summing that up," he muttered dryly, turning back to his house.

"Look, the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you're not." A hint of desperation crept into Gobber's voice, trying to set things right.

"I just wanna be one of you guys," Hiccup whispered, walking inside.

Okay, sure. He can handle all of that. He didn't want to, but it wouldn't hurt him any more than it had in the past.

What he can't take, is being unable to find his Night Fury. And it isn't for lack of trying.

Hiccup stares down at his clumsily-drawn map, clenches his eyes, and looks up. Unsurprisingly, in front of him, he finds a huge nothing. With a heavy sigh, he puts an "X" over the spot, but he ends up scribbling all over the page in sheer frustration, nearly ruining his charcoal pencil. He tosses the pencil in his notebook and slams it shut.

"Oh, the gods hate me," he moans, tucking it into his vest. "Some people lose their knife or their mug... No, not me, I manage to lose an entire dragon?! Oof --"

In a moment of blind idiocy, he had slapped a branch, causing it to ricochet back into his face for revenge. He balls up his fist, holding his other hand over his eye, and glares at it, and then he realizes what it was connected to.

Half of the tree is sloped on the ground, snapped in half to create jagged wooden spikes that jut ominously from the trunk. Broken strips of bark are strewn everywhere, the roots upturned and lodged in the dirt. It lays next to a gigantic trench in the earth, obviously made just recently. Hiccup inhales sharply; it is exact size to accommodate a Night Fury.

He trips on his own feet in his haste to see it. He puts his hand on an exposed root, marvelling at how fast the dragon must have been falling in order to cause this much damage. There is a small hill in his way that is almost as tall as him. He pulls himself up on it, still looking around, and his eyes focus just ahead of him. All too quickly, he realizes what he is seeing and ducks back down with a shout.

A tense moment passes as Hiccup tries to calm his raging heartbeat. Carefully and slowly, he rises and stares. He takes in the large black mass, the rope binding it, and the way it barely seems to be moving.

He's done it.

He's trapped a Night Fury.

He tugs his knife from his belt and fights to calm his breathing. It is time to become a Viking.

*/*\*

The first thing I feel is a foot resting on my leg, accompanied with, "I have brought down this mighty beast!"

In the span of a second, several emotions settle within me: fear, alarm, shock, and, for a fleeting moment, even happiness and relief at being found, before I remember I am still a Night Fury. My protective instincts kicking in, I shake the person off and take a few shaky, terrified breaths before I open my eyes.

The silhouette of a boy is in front of me, and after my vision clears I manage to get a good look at him. I take him in: auburn hair so dark it could be seen as brown, forest green eyes, a skinny body, all of which is trembling, and a tiny dagger clasped in his hands. He looks familiar, and I vaguely recognize him as the chief's son, but what was his name?

Exhaling nervously, I unintentionally let out a whimper. He is holding his dagger straight toward my heart and it doesn't take a genius to see what he wants to do. He looks me in the eyes, then away, and says finally, "I'm gonna kill you, dragon. I'm gonna... I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father. I am a Viking. I am a Viking!"

He yells this at me, and fear stabs me against my will.

I make another sound, probably a cry for help, but even I can't decipher it so of course he can't understand me.

We spend a moment where we are, him looking into my eyes then away several times. My breathing keeps speeding up. My eyes flick back and forth between him and the dagger. This is the end, I suppose: the mighty Night Fury, killed by a lowly human teenager using nothing but a knife. I can't believe this. I try to keep myself from crying, mostly because of the boy's presence, because how would the people receive the news that he'd seen the Night Fury -- the untouchable, unbreakable, almighty Night Fury -- crying? He raises the knife and I close my eyes, dropping my head to the ground with an anguished cry. I must resign myself to my fate and the stain it will leave on the reputation for all dragons. I hear him grunt furiously, and several horrific seconds pass, but nothing happens. I can't open my eyes, terrified. Three footsteps lead a small distance away.

"I did this..." he murmurs.

I can't stop the spear of hope that shoots through me, but I still won't look. I hear him sigh.

Next thing I know, the ropes binding me are being cut. My eyes shoot open, but I don't move, frozen in fear and stiff from being trapped for so long. And then I realize that I'm being freed. He's setting me free. Why is he setting me free? A rush of gratitude and relief floods me, but the Night Fury in me kicks in as soon as the last rope falls. Out of pure instinct, I leap up and pin him to the rock.

This action horrifies me, but I reason with myself. I had to, even to cause him to look as completely terrified as he does. I know what he sees: a fierce female Night Fury, bending over him, pinning him, preparing to kill.

But I surprise him. I don't kill him.

Instead, I rear, snarling, and stomp the ground hard on either side of him, roaring at the top of my voice. I shoot him one more look, then push off the rock and launch into the trees.

But I'd been so wrapped up in the boy that I'd failed to notice the most important thing. 

My left tail wing is missing. 

And without that, I'm a downed dragon.