Hiccup's Perspective
The forge pulsed with life, the fire crackling and roaring as if it shared the heartbeat thrumming in my chest. Sparks flew with every strike of my hammer, scattering like stars across the dim, smoke-hazed room. The familiar scent of molten steel and burning coal wrapped around me, grounding me in a rhythm older than words.
I hammered the glowing metal again, feeling it yield under my will, shaping itself into something new—something ours.
Nearby, resting carefully atop a cloth-covered bench, were the nearly completed claws meant for Freya.
Small.
Precise.
Strong.
Exactly like her.
The blackened steel shimmered faintly even in the dim light, constellations of silver woven through the metal's surface like tiny stars. They weren't just weapons. They were an extension of who she was becoming—a piece of her new self forged by my own hands.
But today, my focus wasn't on Freya's claws.
Today, it was on Luna.
My mate.
My equal.
My other half.
I plunged the next piece of molten metal back into the fire, watching it glow with heat before pulling it free and setting it onto the anvil.
Luna had embraced her hybrid form without hesitation. She moved through the world with a kind of feral grace, balancing her human and dragon instincts better than anyone I had ever seen. It was a part of her—something natural, wild, and beautiful.
But her purely human form?
That was different.
I had seen it—the way her muscles tightened with discomfort when she was forced to stay human too long.
The small stiffness in her movements.
The subtle, almost invisible frown lines that appeared when she thought no one was watching.
She hated it.
It felt like a cage to her.
A form not born from choice, but necessity.
And no matter how much she endured it for me, for Freya, for the family we were building... I saw it. I felt it through our bond.
I wanted to give her something.
A piece of her dragon soul she could wear, even when trapped in human skin.
A reminder that no matter the shape she wore, she was still powerful.
Still free.
Still Luna.
I struck the steel with precision, shaping it into sleek, deadly curves.
The claws I envisioned weren't ordinary weapons. They were a promise.
They would gleam like moonlight on dragon scales, a perfect blend of silver and blue, shifting color with every movement. Elegant and razor-sharp, designed to fit her human hands without restricting her speed or power.
Each claw would be etched with intricate designs—dragons soaring through endless skies, swirling winds captured in flowing, delicate lines.
Symbols of her strength.
Her freedom.
Her true self.
They wouldn't just serve as tools of war.
They would be her armor.
Her crown.
A gift from me to her—not out of obligation, but out of love.
I could already imagine the look on her face when she saw them.
The flare of pride in her emerald eyes.
The slight tilt of her mouth when she tried (and failed) to hide how much it meant to her.
The subtle tightening of our bond as her love and fierce protectiveness wrapped around me like a shield.
She had been my strength more times than she would ever realize.
When the rage inside me burned too hot, she had been the cooling wind.
When the weight of the past tried to drag me under, she had been the fire that kept me moving forward.
She had never once flinched from my darkness.
She had embraced it, challenged it, and made it her own.
And now, with Freya in our lives, that strength had grown even more unbreakable.
The hammer struck again, sparks lighting the forge in a small explosion of light.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, pausing for a moment to glance toward the nearby workbench.
Freya's tiny claws gleamed softly, waiting patiently for the final touches.
She would have her weapons soon—her first true tools of power.
The first step in claiming her place in this world.
Our little hatchling.
Our little princess.
I smiled faintly to myself.
A week ago, I had been alone in every way that mattered.
Now, I had everything I never dared to dream of.
A mate who fought beside me.
A daughter who trusted me.
A family worth bleeding for, worth killing for, worth living for.
I turned back to my work, renewed purpose surging through my veins.
Soon, the claws for Luna would be finished.
And when I placed them into her hands, it wouldn't just be a gift.
It would be a message.
You are never caged. You are never less. In any form, you are my Luna—and you are unstoppable.
The fire roared louder as I brought the hammer down once more, the forge answering the unspoken promise burning in my heart.
This was only the beginning.
Luna's Perspective
The cool water of the lake lapped at my legs, a welcome contrast to the lingering heat of the afternoon.
Freya splashed nearby, her tiny wings fluttering excitedly, sending small ripples across the surface.
The setting sun painted the sky in hues of amber and violet, the reflection dancing across the water like living flame.
I watched her closely, a rare peace settling over me.
Our hatchling.
Our daughter.
She had taken to her new form with a joy and hunger that made something warm and protective twist deep inside me.
Her tail flicked playfully in the water as she grinned up at me, her eyes shining.
"I'm going to try jumping off that rock!" she announced, pointing a clawed finger toward a large, jagged boulder near the lake's edge.
I smirked, folding my arms. "Go ahead, little one. But remember—" I tapped the side of my head lightly. "Control is just as important as strength."
Freya gave a sharp nod, her small wings flaring slightly in determination.
I stepped back to give her space, watching as she scrambled up the boulder with surprising agility. Her claws found easy purchase on the rough stone, her new tail aiding her balance effortlessly.
When she reached the top, she spread her wings wide, taking a deep breath.
Then she leapt.
Her wings caught the air just enough to glide her a short distance before she landed with a splash, sending a cascade of water high into the air.
"Did you see that?!" she called, laughing and spluttering as she emerged from the water.
"I saw," I said, pride swelling so fiercely it made my chest ache.
"You're getting better, Freya. You're learning."
We spent hours there at the lake, her energy seemingly endless.
She jumped, glided, splashed, climbed, and tried again—pushing herself harder each time.
Her mistakes didn't discourage her. Her falls didn't dim her spirit.
If anything, they only made her stronger.
And watching her—watching our hatchling thrive—brought a kind of peace I hadn't known I needed.
She had woven herself into my life so seamlessly, so perfectly, it felt impossible to imagine a world where she hadn't always been ours.
⸻
Freya's Perspective
After the sun dipped lower, Mommy led me into a clearing deeper in the forest.
She moved like a shadow—graceful, deadly, and beautiful.
I followed close behind, determined to keep up.
"Today," Mommy said, settling into a ready stance, "we focus on precision."
She demonstrated a series of fluid strikes with her claws—sweeps, thrusts, calculated cuts through the air that made the leaves on nearby trees tremble.
I watched carefully, mimicking her posture, studying how she shifted her weight, how her tail flicked for balance.
"Strength is only useful if you can aim it," she said, her emerald eyes gleaming under the starlight.
"A wild swing will leave you vulnerable. Precision wins battles, not brute force."
Her movements were mesmerizing. Like watching water flow through a narrow stream—graceful but unstoppable.
I tried to copy her, bringing my new claws up and striking carefully at the invisible enemies she had conjured.
The first few swings were clumsy. Too wide. Too stiff.
But Mommy corrected me patiently, gently adjusting my arms, nudging my shoulders into better alignment.
And slowly, I felt it.
Each movement began to flow into the next.
Each strike more natural, more powerful.
I grinned as the strikes became easier, my body learning the rhythm.
"Good," Mommy said with a small nod. "Very good, little one."
I beamed up at her, my wings fluttering slightly in pride.
"That's because I have the best teacher," I said brightly.
She smirked at me—her sharp, dangerous kind of smirk—but there was no hiding the warmth in her eyes.
"Keep working hard, hatchling," she said. "You're stronger than you know."
⸻
Luna's Perspective
As the stars claimed the sky and the forest fell into a peaceful hush, Freya and I stretched out on the soft grass by the lake.
Above us, the constellations glowed undisturbed by Berk's fires or human filth.
Only nature remained out here—wild, free, beautiful.
Freya snuggled closer, her small tail curling protectively around my leg as she stared up at the stars.
"Do you think Papa's still working?" she asked softly, her voice warm with affection.
I smiled faintly.
"Without a doubt," I said.
"Whatever he's making for you... and for me, no doubt... it will be perfect. Your Papa puts his heart into everything he forges."
Freya was quiet for a moment, her breath even and slow.
The bond between us—still young, still growing—felt stronger than ever.
Finally, she turned toward me slightly, her voice hesitant but hopeful.
"Mommy... can I call you Mama sometimes too?" she whispered.
The question punched the air from my lungs.
I blinked, stunned by the simple, raw honesty of it.
Without hesitation, I pulled her into my arms, wrapping both arms and wings around her in a protective cocoon.
"You can call me anything you want, my little one," I whispered fiercely. "You are mine now. Always."
Freya let out a tiny happy noise, snuggling closer under my wing.
"I love you, Mommy... Mama," she said with a sleepy giggle.
"And I love you," I whispered back, my throat tightening.
For a long time, we simply lay there, the stars wheeling slowly overhead, the forest singing its ancient lullaby.
Tomorrow would bring new battles.
New challenges.
But tonight?
Tonight, I had my daughter curled safely against me, and for the first time in my life...
I was whole.
Hiccup's Perspective
The final clang of my hammer echoed sharply through the forge, a triumphant note that cut through the cool night air.
I exhaled slowly, stepping back from the anvil, and set the hammer down with a sense of quiet satisfaction.
Before me, on the worn workbench, lay the culmination of all my effort, all my intent:
Luna's claws.
They gleamed under the forge's soft light, their surface shifting and shimmering with iridescent hues—silver, deep blue, and hints of black that rippled like water under the moon.
They were sleek and elegant, yet sharp enough to tear through steel.
Deadly and beautiful—just like her.
Every line etched into the metal, every careful curve, spoke of her strength, her wild spirit, and the bond we shared.
They weren't just weapons.
They were a piece of her soul, made manifest through my hands.
Beside them rested Freya's claws—smaller, more delicate, yet no less fierce.
The constellations woven into the blackened metal glowed faintly, like stardust trapped within the steel itself.
Symbols of her future.
Her first true step toward the powerful being she was destined to become.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled in my muscles.
The forge crackled and hissed behind me, casting long shadows across the walls.
For a moment, I simply stood there, letting it all sink in.
These weren't just tools.
They were promises.
A promise to Luna—that I saw her. That I understood the parts of her she didn't always speak aloud. That she was never, and would never be, less in any form.
A promise to Freya—that I would help her forge her own path. That she would never again be powerless, alone, or afraid.
My mate.
My daughter.
My family.
The very center of my world.
A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I reached out, brushing my fingers lightly over the finished claws.
They were beautiful.
Perfect.
Just like the ones I had crafted them for.
Stepping out of the forge, I tilted my head back and took a deep breath of the crisp night air. The stars stretched wide and endless overhead, silent witnesses to this small, precious life we were building.
The cabin, barely visible through the trees, glowed softly with the light of the hearth within.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out into the quiet:
"Luna! Freya! Come inside!"
My voice carried easily through the night, cutting through the peace of the sleeping forest.
I couldn't wait another moment.
I wanted to see their faces.
To watch Freya's eyes light up with wonder.
To see that rare, real smile curve Luna's lips—the one she only ever gave to us.
I wanted them to know—truly know—how much they meant to me.
Not just in words, but in the steel and fire and heart I had poured into these gifts.
They were my family.
My life.
And I would spend every breath, every day, every battle ahead proving to them, over and over again, just how much I loved them.
Forever.