Hiccup's Perspective
The first hints of dawn crept through the curtains, bathing the cabin in a pale, soft glow.
I stirred from my place on the bed, stretching lazily as I blinked the sleep from my eyes. Beside me, Luna shifted, letting out a low, content rumble from her chest, while Freya gave a soft little squeak as she curled deeper under the covers.
Smiling to myself, I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair.
It was time.
Today was the day we would return to Berk.
But for now... there was no rush.
For a few stolen minutes, I simply watched them both begin to stir—my mate and my hatchling.
Luna arched her back in a slow, graceful stretch, her wings flexing slightly before folding neatly against her body.
Freya mimicked her without thinking, her smaller wings fluttering and her tail curling instinctively as she stretched her tiny body with a little groan.
I chuckled softly, covering my mouth to muffle the sound.
The sight of the two of them stretching so naturally—limbs and tails sprawling in lazy arcs—made them look less like humans and more like some kind of draconian cats, sleek and dangerous, yawning and clawing the morning away with casual ease.
My beautiful, feral girls, I thought with pride.
"Alright, you two," I said, standing and stretching my own wings briefly before folding them tight. "Time to get moving. We've got a village to put in its place today."
Luna yawned and sat up, fixing me with a sleepy but amused look. Freya just groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically.
"I don't wanna move," she mumbled into the blankets.
I smirked. "Tough luck, little princess."
I turned to Luna, giving her a playful nod. "Take her to the shower. Get her cleaned up."
At the word shower, Freya's entire body stiffened. She peeked one green eye out from under the blanket and let out a low, mournful groan.
"But Papa," she whined pitifully, "your shower is cold!"
I laughed, already expecting the complaint.
"You're a hybrid like us now," I teased, walking over and ruffling her messy hair. "Your body will keep you warm, remember? It's good training, too. Builds resilience."
Freya gave me a betrayed look, which only made me grin wider.
"You'll survive," I said cheerfully.
Before she could protest again, I scooped her up right off the bed, lifting her effortlessly into the air.
She squealed in surprise—but before she could wriggle away, I launched a full-on tickle assault.
"Noooo!" she shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as I mercilessly attacked her sides with my fingers.
"Resistance is futile!" I declared, grinning wickedly.
"You shall face your destiny, tiny dragon!"
Luna laughed quietly from where she sat, shaking her head with amused fondness.
Freya kicked and flailed in the air, her tail whipping wildly, but it was no use. She was trapped.
Finally, after a solid minute of her laughing herself breathless, I relented and set her down—still giggling—on her feet beside Luna.
"There," I said smugly. "Now you're awake."
Still giggling, Freya clutched Luna's hand for balance.
"Come on," Luna said, her tone slipping into that soft command she wielded so easily. "Let's get you cleaned up, little one."
Freya grumbled under her breath, but obediently followed as Luna led her toward the small adjoining bathroom where I had rigged up the crude shower system.
Chuckling to myself, I turned toward the kitchen.
Might as well get breakfast started while they cleaned up.
Today called for something good.
Something hearty.
Eggs and bacon sounded perfect.
I pulled a pan down from the hook and began gathering the ingredients.
The smell alone would lure them out faster than any call.
Just as I cracked the first egg into the pan, I heard the sharp hiss of the water pipes coming to life—and then, a second later, a shriek from Freya.
"COLD! COLD! COLD!" she howled from the bathroom.
I snorted, barely holding back my laughter.
Through the thin walls, I heard Luna's calm, almost motherly reprimand:
"A princess does not curse," she said firmly, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of amusement.
"I didn't curse!" Freya protested indignantly—though the very next words out of her mouth were a colorful mutter that absolutely counted as cursing.
I grinned to myself, flipping the eggs with casual ease.
Despite the grumbling, the shrieking, the teasing...
Despite the cold showers and the looming storm that was today's confrontation...
Right now, everything felt perfect.
The sound of Luna gently scolding Freya.
The smell of breakfast cooking in our tiny kitchen.
The knowledge that, whatever the day brought...
We would face it as a family.
Together.
After breakfast was finished and the dishes cleaned with casual ease, I decided it was time.
The day ahead would be long and tense.
We would face Berk.
We would remind them that we were not their toys to break anymore.
But for now, there was something far more important to do.
A gift for Freya.
I opened the cabin door and let the early morning air flood inside. It was still dim, the sky painted in deep indigo and streaks of fading starlight, but the chill was bracing and perfect.
"Come on," I said, grabbing my cloak and slinging it over my shoulders. "Let's go, girls."
Luna immediately moved to my side, adjusting the belt across her waist where her new claws rested in special sheaths I had forged the night before. Her presence was calm, steady.
Freya skipped excitedly between us, her tail swinging behind her, her wings fluttering in short little bursts.
She was full of energy—still buzzing from the excitement of her new claws and the lingering warmth from our playful morning.
We stepped out into the clearing surrounding the cabin, the mist curling around our feet.
Everything was silent. Still.
Perfect.
Freya turned to me with curious excitement.
"What are we doing, Papa?"
I smiled.
"You learned how to glide yesterday," I said, ruffling her hair lightly.
"But today, little dragon... you're going to learn how to fly."
Her eyes widened, her wings giving a sharp little twitch.
"Really?!"
"Really," I said, smirking. "No more gliding from rocks like a fledgling. You're ready for more."
Luna chuckled softly, standing off to the side, arms folded, clearly enjoying this as much as I was.
We moved to the center of the clearing, where the ground was open and the trees gave plenty of space for lift and maneuvering.
I knelt in front of Freya and tapped her chest lightly with two fingers.
"Flight starts here," I said. "Not in your wings. Not in your feet. Here."
Freya looked down at her chest, then back up at me with a puzzled expression.
"Flying isn't about jumping hard or flapping your wings like a crazy bird," I continued patiently.
"It's about feeling free. About trusting yourself. Trusting the air."
I stood and spread my own wings, feeling the familiar stretch of muscle and tendon.
"When you take off, you have to feel the sky calling you upward. Like it wants you to join it."
Freya nodded vigorously, determined as ever.
"Alright, Papa! I'm ready!"
"Good," I said, stepping back. "Show me what you've got."
Freya took a few steps back, her tail swishing with excitement. She crouched low, her wings stretching wide—then sprang upward with all the force she could muster.
For a moment—just a moment—she caught the air.
And then—
WHUMP.
She landed face-first into the dirt, her tail flopping over her back with a pitiful thud.
I winced. Luna winced.
Freya pushed herself up slowly, spitting out a mouthful of grass, her face dusted with dirt.
"That... didn't work," she muttered dejectedly.
I chuckled softly, walking over and kneeling beside her.
"Hey," I said gently, brushing the leaves out of her hair. "It's okay. No one learns in one jump."
She looked up at me, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
"But I wanted to do it right," she said, frustration lacing her voice.
I rested my hands lightly on her small shoulders.
"Freya," I said, voice firm but kind, "you're trying too hard."
She blinked at me.
"You're thinking about it too much," I explained. "You're treating it like another thing to win at. Another battle."
"But it's not?"
"No," I said with a smile.
"It's freedom. Pure and simple. You have to feel it. Like you're letting go of the ground. Like you belong to the sky, not to the dirt."
She looked down, fidgeting slightly, then back up at me with renewed determination.
"Relax," I said again. "Breathe. Close your eyes if you have to. Listen to your instincts. They're stronger than you think."
Freya nodded slowly, straightening.
I stood and backed away, giving her space.
Luna watched silently from the side, her green eyes calm, trusting, proud.
Freya closed her eyes.
She let her wings spread wide, feeling the wind tug gently at them.
She crouched lower.
And this time—when she leapt—
It was different.
Her wings caught the air like sails.
She soared upward, wobbling slightly—but staying aloft.
Higher.
Higher.
She let out a small, amazed laugh as she hovered in the clearing, her body catching and riding the small morning currents of wind.
"I'm doing it!" she cried gleefully.
I grinned wide, pride surging through me.
"You're flying, my little dragon!" I called back.
Luna let out a rare, proud laugh from beside me, her tail flicking with excitement.
Freya flapped once, twice—then lost control and tumbled down into a bush with a soft oof.
We hurried over, laughing, as she scrambled up, twigs sticking out of her hair but her face beaming with joy.
"I did it, Papa!" she crowed.
"You sure did," I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Next time," Luna said teasingly, "try aiming for less foliage."
Freya giggled, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.
I straightened, ruffling her hair one more time.
"Come on, little dragon," I said, my voice warm and full of promise. "Today's just beginning. You're going to need those wings strong."
We had a village to visit.
After Freya's first true flight, we spent a few more minutes letting her catch her breath and bask in the triumph of it.
But time was moving.
Berk awaited.
I turned back toward the cabin, striding quickly inside. I went straight to the small storage nook where I had tucked away a heavy leather bag the night before.
Inside were several carefully sealed jars, each filled with thick, potent healing ointments I had brewed over the past few days.
Mixtures of herbs, dragon salves, and other ingredients designed to accelerate recovery from wounds that even dragon flesh struggled to heal.
As I slung the bag over my shoulder, Luna and Freya entered behind me, curiosity clear in their eyes.
"What's that for, Papa?" Freya asked, tilting her head.
I adjusted the strap across my chest and gave them both a small smile.
"For the Nadder," I said.
"When we get to Berk... before anything else... I want to check her wounds."
Both of them blinked at me.
"I want to make sure she's healing properly. And if there are wounds still festering, these should help."
Freya nodded thoughtfully, accepting the explanation easily enough.
But Luna...
Luna's eyes darkened slightly, a glint flashing in those emerald depths. Her tail twitched once, sharply, and I felt the spike of possessive jealousy through our bond even before she spoke.
"Why?" she asked, her voice low and far too calm.
"You already defeated her. She's already yours. Why heal her?"
I could feel the tension radiating off her, the sharp, territorial growl barely contained beneath her voice.
Her yandere side—the one that didn't like anyone getting even a fraction of my attention—was rising.
I chuckled under my breath and stepped closer, cupping her cheek with one hand.
"Relax, my love," I murmured, letting soothing warmth pour through our bond. "I'm not healing her because I care for her the way I care for you or our hatchling."
Her pupils narrowed slightly, still unconvinced.
I leaned in closer, speaking directly into her mind and heart.
"I want to heal her because she could be a powerful addition to our future. To our nest."
I brushed my thumb along her jawline. "Or our kingdom, if we decide to build one."
Luna's ears twitched slightly at the words, her sharp gaze still locked on mine.
"To do that," I continued softly, "we'll need strong followers. Loyal ones. She's already accepted me as her Alpha the moment she bowed after the fight."
I let my hand drop to her shoulder, squeezing gently.
"And besides," I added, my voice growing quieter, more serious, "I don't want to be like the Queen who enslaved you."
Luna's breath hitched slightly at the mention, the memory flashing darkly through her mind.
"I don't want servants or slaves," I said. "I want a pack. A family. I want dragons and humans who choose to follow me—because they trust me. Because they believe in me."
Her eyes softened, the tension draining from her posture.
"I want to be an Alpha they can depend on," I said, resting my forehead lightly against hers.
"Not a tyrant. Not a queen who rules through fear and cruelty."
Through our bond, the rage and jealousy that had surged moments before faded into a warm, protective pride.
She pressed her forehead tighter against mine, her wings twitching at her sides as she surrendered to the truth of my words.
"You're not like her," she whispered fiercely.
"You're better."
I smiled faintly.
"I intend to be," I said simply.
Beside us, Freya watched the exchange with wide, shining eyes, absorbing every word without interruption.
She didn't need explanations.
She understood.
We weren't just building a family here.
We were building a future.
A legacy.
One that would tear down everything broken and corrupted in this world—and rebuild it stronger.
Together.