Hiccup's Perspective
The arena loomed ahead, its towering stone walls rising like a monument to everything broken about Berk.
Beyond the trees, I could hear the low, restless murmur of a gathering crowd.
Their voices blended into a nervous hum, tinged with excitement and unease.
They were bracing for something.
They just didn't know what yet.
We stopped just before the last line of trees, the forest's protective cover shielding us from sight for a few precious moments longer.
I took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned to face my girls.
Luna stood tall at my side, her posture relaxed but deadly—her emerald eyes sharp and alert.
Freya practically vibrated with contained energy beside her, her small fists clenching and unclenching, her tail twitching slightly in anticipation.
We couldn't walk into Berk like this—not yet.
Not with wings, tails, and claws on full display.
Our time would come.
But for now... subtlety had its place.
Without a word, I let the shift ripple through me, my wings, tail, and scaled arms retracting with a smooth, practiced motion.
Bone and sinew melted and reshaped, leaving me in my pure human form.
Beside me, Luna followed suit effortlessly—her tail vanishing, her claws receding.
Still powerful, still unmistakably dangerous—but hidden now behind human skin and muscle.
Freya hesitated for a split second, then, with a small breath, did the same.
Her tail flickered once before disappearing, her wings folding inward until they were no more.
She looked up at me, wide-eyed but proud, still glowing with the wildness that no human skin could ever fully contain.
Good.
Very good.
"We'll have to split up from here," I said, my voice low and deliberate.
Luna immediately frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Split up?" she echoed, her emerald eyes narrowing dangerously. "Why?"
I allowed a small, calculated smile to curve my lips.
"To make an impression," I said simply.
I stepped closer, speaking directly to her first.
"Luna, I need you to stay close to the arena—but out of sight. Hide in the shadows. Watch everything. And when the time comes... when you see the perfect moment to strike at their hearts—"I want you to reveal yourself."
Make it unforgettable."
Luna's lips curled into a sharp, almost feral grin. Her body shifted slightly, her muscles coiling like a predator waiting for the kill.
"They won't forget," she promised, her voice little more than a purr.
I nodded approvingly, then turned to Freya.
The little dragoness in human skin stood straight and ready, her green eyes steady and fearless.
"Freya," I said, softening my voice slightly, "you're going to blend into the crowd."
She blinked up at me, surprised.
"Blend in?"
I smirked.
"Yes. No big displays yet. Just be yourself. Move through them. Watch. Listen. Act however you want. Remember—"you're not theirs to judge anymore."
You belong to yourself. To us."
Freya's grin widened, a mischievous glint lighting up her face.
"Be myself?" she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I think I can handle that."
"Good," I said, letting my pride show clearly as I looked between the two most important people in my world.
"You both know what to do. Trust yourselves. And trust me."
Luna stepped forward, her hand brushing lightly against my arm, her voice low but full of unshakable conviction.
"Always," she said.
Freya gave a small salute, her messy hair falling into her eyes.
"Let's show them what real strength looks like."
My heart swelled with pride.
Without another word, Luna melted into the shadows—silent, unseen.
One moment she was there, and the next, the forest had swallowed her completely.
Freya gave me a bright, confident smile before slipping toward the thinning edge of the trees, weaving her way skillfully toward the growing crowd.
I stayed for just a moment longer, savoring the silence before the storm.
Then, slowly, deliberately, I walked forward—toward the arena gates.
Toward Berk.
Toward the reckoning they would never see coming.
—————————————————-
The roar of the crowd dimmed the moment I stepped into the stone arena.
The early morning sunlight poured in over the pit, catching on the iron net dome above and casting a web of shifting shadows across the packed dirt floor. The cold, curved walls of the arena rose around me like a cage of judgment—and today, I was going to shatter whatever illusion of control Berk thought it still had.
I walked slowly, deliberately, toward the center of the pit.
The silence didn't last long.
"Hiccup!" Gobber's voice barked from above, snapping like a whip. "It's about time! We've been waitin'—"
I didn't let him finish.
My eyes locked onto him with a calm, steady coldness. Not angry. Not agitated. Just done.
"I arrive when I decide to arrive," I said evenly, my voice carrying clearly across the arena.
"As far as I'm concerned... you don't give me orders, Gobber."
The older blacksmith stiffened, the crowd going quieter with each word I spoke.
"You may have acted like a father more than that useless chief Stoick ever did..." I continued, my tone like frozen steel, "...but your sympathy and supposed care don't give you the right to command me."
The sting of my words landed hard.
I saw it in the way Gobber flinched—just slightly—but enough for everyone around him to notice. He looked like someone who'd been slapped without warning. And in a way, he had been.
I meant every word.
My eyes drifted upward, scanning the stands with detached disinterest—until they found her.
Freya.
Nestled among the villagers, her form fully human once again, her energy as vibrant as ever. She kicked her legs off the edge of the stone bench, beaming down at the arena with open curiosity, like this was all just another show.
I didn't smile.
But the icy burn in my gaze lessened when I looked at her. No one noticed it, of course. No one ever really saw me when I didn't want them to.
Still... I knew.
That was my hatchling.
And she was watching.
I turned my gaze back to the hushed crowd.
"It seems," I said aloud, the quiet drawing every eye to me, "that all of Berk has decided to show up in the arena ounce again."
No one responded. The tension was palpable.
Gobber, recovering from the earlier blow, muttered with a half-forced grin, "Vikings are stubborn, lad. You know that."
"Yeah..." I said, letting the word hang for a moment, before continuing with venom.
"And they're idiotic, lower life forms and every time I look at them, I wonder why I haven't already burned this place to the ground. Why I haven't slaughtered them all where they stand."
The crowd recoiled as one.
Eyes widened. Mouths dropped. Even the warriors looked pale. The children clung to their mothers. Some instinct deep in their bones screamed predator.
I let it linger.
Then I added, voice quieter but somehow worse, "But why dirty my hands with their blood...?"
I tilted my head slightly, pretending to ponder.
"Still... there are some I'm going to kill personally—if they try anything."
Gasps rippled through the stands.
And that was when I saw it—Freya's reaction.
A faint shudder, but not from fear.
She liked it.
There, in her bright eyes, I caught a flicker of something dark and sharp. A hunger.
That same barely-contained sadism that Luna and I carried like second skin.
I exhaled quietly through my nose.
She really was my little princess.
Sadistic tendencies and all.
My gaze flicked briefly toward the arena's gate—where I had left the satchel of healing ointments tucked just inside the stone entrance. It waited there, untouched for now, until I dealt with today's training match.
The Nadder was likely still healing beneath the surface, and I meant to see her properly recovered—not for their sake, but for mine.
She'd bent the knee to me. Accepted me as Alpha.
I took care of what was mine.
Movement to the left caught my attention.
The other teens were already lined up in formation near the trainers' post, spears and shields in hand. Ruffnut and Tuffnut fidgeted. Snotlout tried to look braver than he felt. Fishlegs shifted awkwardly, his eyes bouncing between me and the sky.
But Astrid...
She was absent.
Strange.
The Valkyrie was never late. Not once. Not ever.
She lived by the rules of punctuality and perfection. So where was she?
I let the question drift in and out of my thoughts just long enough to acknowledge it—then discarded it.
She wasn't important right now.
I turned and made my way to the far edge of the arena, choosing a spot near the circular stone wall beside the Nadder's cage. The massive wooden doors embedded into the arena wall were sealed shut for now, but I could feel her presence behind them—restless, wounded, waiting.
Let them wait for Astrid.
Let them wonder what I was planning.
I sat against the wall, resting one arm casually on my raised knee, the other near the edge of my cloak.
Relaxed.
But not harmless.
as I leaned against the cold stone of the arena wall, letting the tension bleed around me but not into me.
The villagers whispered. Murmured. Shifted in their seats.
They remembered what I'd done here a week ago—when I defeated the Nadder without mercy. And yet, the unease in the air now ran deeper than that.
They had seen the hate in my eyes.
The truth of what they made me.
The fear had only just begun.
Then, the heavy gate opposite the Nadder's cage creaked open, and boots struck stone.
I raised an eyebrow, only mildly curious.
Finally... she arrives.
Astrid Hofferson entered the arena.
But not as the golden girl of Berk. Not as the proud, perfect Viking shield-maiden they'd raised to be their paragon of discipline and honor.
No.
What walked through that gate was something else entirely.
Her blonde hair was still in its braid, but it was slightly unkempt now—strands falling loose around her face. Her posture was rigid, yes—but not in the trained stance of obedience.
This was different.
There was weight to her steps.
A slow, seething rhythm.
She moved like a predator—tight, coiled, heavy with rage.
Not toward me.
Just... in general.
The crowd went still as she crossed the arena floor, her axe strapped to her back, eyes locked ahead, jaw clenched.
Gobber, trying to ease the suffocating silence, gave a forced chuckle.
"Took yer sweet time, didn't ya, lass?" he called. "You're usually first in line!"
Astrid stopped mid-step.
Her head snapped toward him.
And every single person in the stands felt it.
Her glare hit Gobber like a blade to the throat. Cold. Focused. Brutal.
"You're lucky I showed up at all," she said flatly, her voice like stone scraping steel.
Gasps echoed across the arena.
Gobber blinked, clearly thrown.
"Watch yer tone, girl," he barked, more instinct than control.
Astrid turned her entire body to face him.
And for a brief, spine thrilling- chilling second—
—her killing intent rippled across the arena like a storm cloud snapping loose.
The teens stiffened behind Gobber.
The villagers near him flinched.
Even one of the dragons caged in the wall let out a low, uncertain growl.
It wasn't that she'd raised her voice. She hadn't.
It was the promise in her eyes. The violence just beneath the surface.
The kind of look that said one wrong word and I will break you.
Gobber's mouth snapped shut. He didn't speak again.
I watched it all unfold without moving.
Without blinking.
But inside?
I was intrigued.
Interesting, I mused, my gaze sharpening.
This wasn't the fake, performative anger I'd seen a hundred times from her before—when we were younger.
That arrogant mockery. The forced contempt.
No.
This was real.
Rage.
Pure.
Unrestrained.
And for the first time, I wondered...
Was all that hatred she used to throw at me just another mask? Another lie she had to live?
Maybe she hadn't hated me at all.
Maybe—like me—she had always hated Berk.
A slow smirk tugged at the edge of my mouth.
From the stands, I caught a flicker of movement.
Freya, seated among the villagers, was watching Astrid too—curious, almost amused.
And then she grinned.
Not wide. Not mocking.
Just... approving.
Another predator, huh? I thought, amused.
Maybe Berk was finally cracking apart at the seams.
Good.
Let it tear.
Let the rot show.
Let the masks fall off, one by one.
Because this world doesn't need perfect Vikings anymore.
It needs monsters who can tear down the broken pieces...
...and build something better in their place.
Luna's Perspective
Hidden high within the stone shadows of the arena wall, I watched.
The villagers never looked up.
They never considered that a predator might be lurking above them, waiting, silent and unseen. Their kind rarely did. So smug in their order. So blind in their pride.
It made it so easy to watch them squirm.
But today, I wasn't just watching Berk.
I was watching her.
Astrid Hofferson.
When she entered the arena, I expected the usual from her—chin high, shoulders proud, the so-called golden daughter of this rotting village.
But what I saw instead...
...was a threat.
She walked with the weight of someone who no longer cared for their carefully built image.
There was a snarl hidden in her silence.
A promise of violence in every movement.
And she dared—dared—to look at my mate.
Not with hate.
No.
With recognition.
With understanding.
And worse of all longing.
And that... that was worse.
She saw something in Hiccup that belonged to me and me alone.
I felt it through the bond—his interest.
Not affection, not desire—no, nothing like that.
But curiosity.
A slow, curling thread of attention.
And I felt my blood heat like oil to flame.
My tail, though invisible in this form, twitched. My claws itched beneath my human fingers. My fangs wanted out.
She had no right.
No right to be seen by him.
To be noticed.
Hiccup was mine.
His thoughts were mine. His attention, mine. His heart, soul, blood—mine.
I pressed a hand to my chest and inhaled deeply, forcing the possessive fury down before it spilled out and ruined everything.
Now's not the time, I reminded myself.
This is his moment. His hunt. His game.
Still...
My eyes never left Astrid.
She moved like a wolf without a leash—sharp, snapping, searching for someone to tear apart.
The crowd flinched. Gobber stumbled over his words. The teens stiffened like prey sensing a shift in the wind.
And Hiccup?
Hiccup smiled.
It was faint, barely there.
But I saw it.
I always see him.
He was intrigued.
And I hated her for it.
A cold fury bloomed in my gut.
Not because I didn't trust Hiccup.
He was mine—irrevocably. His body bore my mark. His soul fed mine. Our bond was iron and fire.
But she... she was dangerous.
Because the hatred in her wasn't directed at him anymore.
And he noticed.
That alone made her worth watching.
Worth ending, if she ever stepped too far.
If she ever reached for what was mine.
And yet... as I crouched in the shadows, claws half-formed and eyes glowing faintly green in the dark, I didn't move.
Not yet.
Because if there's one thing I understand—it's the art of the hunt.
Let her move.
Let her grow bold.
Let her circle the pack and pretend she belongs.
And when she steps too close?
I'll tear out her throat with a smile.
Until then, I waited in the dark.
Watching.
Ready.
Smiling.
Hiccup's Perspective
The air in the arena still hummed with tension long after Astrid took her place with the other teens.
Gobber had gone quiet—his pride clearly bruised, and his control over the group fractured.
But eventually, the old blacksmith gave a grunt, shook himself like a bear coming out of a daze, and cleared his throat loudly.
"Right then!" he barked, a bit more hoarse than usual. "No sense standin' around. Let's get today's lesson started before the sun climbs any higher."
He walked toward the edge of the arena wall, motioning for the handlers up top to release the next dragon. I didn't have to look. I already knew which one it was.
The moment the gates creaked open, I felt the familiar signature of its twin minds.
And when they slithered out into the arena, tails curled around each other, heads moving in opposite directions as they hissed and growled under their breath—I couldn't help but grin slightly.
A Zippleback.
More specifically: Barf and Belch.
Those were the names I remembered from my old life.
Not given by anyone here. No one had said them. But I knew.
I'd always liked those names.
Quirky. Stupid. Endearing. Perfect.
One head growled at the other for stepping on its foot, and the second responded by bumping its nose against the first in irritation. Already bickering, already uncoordinated. It brought back echoes of another lifetime.
Still chaotic as ever, I thought. Let's see if they're as much trouble as they were in the shows.
As the dragon circled the arena, I folded my arms and leaned lazily against the wall again, watching.
But my attention drifted—not to the dragon this time, or even the teens.
It shifted back to the shadows above, where I knew she was.
Luna.
The moment I'd felt that flicker of curiosity toward Astrid—just a tiny ember of interest in her sudden change—I felt a spike of heat through our bond.
Jealousy.
Possessiveness.
Rage.
All of it, sharp as claws.
I chuckled under my breath, amused rather than alarmed.
Oh, my beloved... you really don't hide your feelings well.
I tilted my head ever so slightly, just enough to glance at the upper ledge where I knew she was hidden. I couldn't see her directly—but I didn't need to.
I could feel her.
The coiled heat of her breath.
The dangerous twitch of her suppressed tail.
The fury rolling off her like waves.
She hated what I'd felt. Even the smallest sliver of attention toward another girl—toward Astrid—was enough to summon a storm.
And I loved her for it.
That possessiveness. That hunger. That raw, instinctual claiming of me—it wasn't weakness.
It was a reminder.
That I was hers.
And she was mine.
Always.
Without moving, I sent my emotions upward through the bond.
Not words.
Feelings.
Mine.
I sent her the overwhelming press of my possessiveness for her. The way no one else could compare. How her fire was the only one that burned me in all the ways I craved.
Then came the love—deep, unshakable, tangled with the warmth I felt for Freya too. Our little family. Our nest. The thing no one could touch.
I felt the fury in Luna quiet just slightly. Not extinguished—no, she would never stop being territorial—but soothed.
Claim acknowledged.
Threat diminished.
Good.
I smirked faintly and refocused on the dragon below, watching Barf and Belch circle restlessly, clearly unimpressed by the teens lined up like trembling ducklings on the opposite side of the arena.
It wouldn't be long before one of them made a mistake.
And then the real lesson would begin.