Hiccup's Point of View
The air between us felt heavy enough to shatter.
Charfang loomed before me, his massive crimson-black frame smoldering with arrogance. His golden eyes glinted with cruel humor as he paced, tail slicing lines in the dirt. Behind him, the rogue dragons shifted uneasily, watching their self-proclaimed leader test his luck against me.
The tension built like a thunderstorm ready to break.
He was the first to speak.
"Well well... look at you. All grown up. King of your little flock. Funny how you're even uglier than last time." He sneered, baring his charred teeth in a mockery of a grin. "Surprised to see me alive?"
I said nothing. I just watched him, unblinking.
Charfang snorted, pacing in a slow arc. His voice boomed across the clearing so every dragon—and every human—could hear. "You thought you finished me. Thought you broke my jaw and left me to cook alive in my own flames. You did. It hurt like hell, boy." He flexed his burned jaw, cracked scales shifting. "But I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm ready to gut you open."
He let the last words hang, expecting fear. Submission. Anything.
Instead, I exhaled.
And I laughed.
Cold. Flat. Without mirth. The kind of sound that killed all conversation.
The clearing froze.
My dragons behind me didn't shift. They didn't even breathe. The Vanguard knew that laugh.
I tilted my head slightly. "Are you finished?"
Charfang's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth—but I cut him off.
"Because you're boring me. I'd rather be back in my cove, with my mates in my arms, than waste another second listening to you bleat like a wounded goat."
Gasps rippled through the wild dragons behind him. Fang's smoke coiled like a curtain of scorn.
I let the disgust show on my face. "So here's my offer," I continued, voice as cold as ice. "Run. Join me. Or stand behind this pathetic, fake alpha of yours and die. Because he will die. And I'll paint the earth with anyone who follows him."
Murmurs rose among the rogues. Some stepped back. Others lowered their heads.
But Charfang only chuckled, low and mean. His head lowered. His nostrils flared. And then—
He sniffed.
Twice.
And then he went still.
His lips curled slowly, cruelly.
"Ohhhh," he growled, voice thick with delight. "Oh, I see now."
He flicked his gaze sideways, locking on Luna. She stood at my flank, eyes narrowed, claws halfway flexed.
Charfang's voice oozed mockery. "That scent... That delicious little scent on you. You let him mount you, didn't you?" His eyes flashed with sick glee. "You let this little human mate with you. How does it feel, whore? Tell me, do you scream for him?"
Luna's snarl ripped through the clearing like a blade. Her wings flared, the ground cracking beneath her feet.
Charfang just laughed. "Oh, I'll make you scream too. Right in front of him. I'll keep him alive just to watch. I'll—"
He never finished.
Because I moved.
I didn't roar. I didn't speak.
I laughed.
And the sound killed the world.
A laugh so cold it sucked the heat from the night, so dark the rogue dragons recoiled in terror. Even the Vanguard behind me shifted uneasily. Humans in Berk's line dropped their weapons and fell silent, the fear freezing them to the bone.
When my laughter died, I was already moving forward. Slow. Deliberate. Unstoppable.
I spoke softly, voice like frost crawling over flesh.
"You made a mistake."
Charfang bristled but didn't back down. "What, little human? Gonna run again?"
I stopped. Just short of striking distance. Close enough that he could see every promise of murder in my eyes.
I raised my voice so every dragon, every Viking, every soul within earshot would hear.
"I'm going to teach you why you don't challenge a Night Fury."
Charfang hesitated. For the first time, his arrogance faltered.
My body shifted—but not with scales, not with claws. No hybrid form.
My human form twisted with raw, terrifying muscle. My spine cracked audibly, a grotesque, monstrous swell of power rolling down my back as I revealed the demon back I had kept hidden so long. Veins pulsed. The fabric of my armor strained as my silhouette grew grotesquely wide, every muscle packed with killing promise.
I breathed deep, eyes closed, and let the transformation settle.
Then I opened my eyes.
Emerald.
Glowing.
Unholy.
Every dragon on that field felt it. My territory. My claim. The weight of an apex predator who would not tolerate rivals.
Charfang actually flinched.
But I wasn't done.
My voice dropped to a growl that trembled through the dirt. "You walked into my territory. You threatened what's mine. And now you think I'll give you mercy?"
He hissed defiantly, but I saw it—the quiver in his claws.
I tilted my head, smiling like a wolf with blood in its teeth. "No. Tonight, your death will be slow. Agonizing. I'll make sure your screams teach every watching whelp what happens to those who defy me."
I let my aura flare—crimson edged in emerald. It crackled in the air, a living, seething promise of violence.
The other dragons fell silent.
Even the wild rogues lowered their heads, instinct screaming at them to submit.
But Charfang didn't bow. Couldn't. Too proud. Too stupid.
Good.
My eyes slid briefly to Luna, who was still trembling with rage, claws flexed, teeth bared.
I smirked and reached out, fingers brushing her jaw. My voice softened for her alone, though everyone heard it.
"He's mine. But you can play with what's left. Take your pound of flesh later."
Her eyes glowed. She gave a low, hungry growl and nodded.
Then I turned back to Charfang.
The smile died.
I flexed my demon back, the muscle cracking again with sheer hateful pressure. My voice dropped into something not human at all.
"This field will be your grave."
I raised my clawed gauntlet, pointing at him like a judge passing sentence.
"Prepare."
And then I lunged.
– Stoick's Point of View
The wind was dead.
Not even the sea whispered behind us.
We all stood in that no-man's-land between monsters. Our shields felt thin as paper. The axes in our hands felt like toys.
I watched the two shapes circle each other—my son and that giant Nightmare with scorched-black scales. The beast's mouth twisted in something like a smile, exposing cracked, burned fangs.
It began to speak.
But not in words.
A deep, guttural series of growls rolled out, slithering through the air like smoke. It snarled, clicked its jaws, chuffed. The sound was wrong. Predatory. Intelligent in the worst way.
Around me, warriors shuffled. I heard someone mutter a prayer.
We'd heard dragons roar. We'd heard them scream. But this wasn't the mindless rage of a beast. This was language.
And it made my skin crawl.
Then I heard him.
Hiccup.
He didn't respond like a man.
He answered it.
A long, keening screech burst from his throat, rising in pitch until it felt like claws raked across our bones. It cut off suddenly, replaced by a string of low, guttural rumbles that made the earth seem to vibrate. Then—sharp, staccato chirps, like blade edges snapping in the dark.
A conversation.
We couldn't understand a damn word.
But the tone was unmistakable.
Threat.
Promise.
Violence.
I felt Eirik to my right swallow hard. "Chief... what the hell is he saying?"
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Hiccup paced slowly around the Nightmare, his posture loose but ready, like a hunter who already knew how this would end. The Nightmare growled back, tail lashing, wings flaring. The sounds grew uglier, deeper, resonant with fury and hate.
The two circled.
Exchanging words none of us could parse.
But every man on that field understood the meaning.
This wasn't a man talking to an animal.
This was one predator talking to another.
And then—
It happened.
The Nightmare's head turned slightly, inhaling. Sniffing the air.
It froze.
We all saw it.
Its growl changed.
Not a threat. Not a promise of death.
But something obscene.
A mocking purr, a taunt.
Whatever it said next made the other dragons in its group recoil. Even our own ranks stiffened, though we didn't understand the words.
But Hiccup's answer was crystal clear.
He laughed.
Gods...
That laugh.
Low. Cold. Hollow as a grave.
I saw men shift back despite themselves. I felt my own fingers tighten on my axe.
The dragons behind my son didn't move. Didn't even breathe.
They knew that laugh.
The Nightmare snarled back, but it was too late.
Hiccup didn't answer in words.
He roared.
A screech so piercing it made every ear ring, so animal it couldn't have come from human lungs. I watched Eirik drop his shield and clap his hands over his ears, face white as snow.
And beneath the roar—I heard other sounds.
A clicking growl that reminded me of bones breaking.
A chuffing threat that seemed to pull heat from the air.
The Nightmare flinched.
Hiccup stepped forward.
And then—
His body changed.
But not like the stories. Not like those horror tales of men growing scales or wings.
No.
He stayed human.
But his back bulged.
We heard his spine crack, the sound wet and nauseating. His armor strained and creaked as his shoulders spread wider, monstrous cords of muscle twisting under skin and leather. Veins snaked across him like black vines.
He didn't look like a man anymore.
He looked like something born to kill dragons with his bare hands.
Someone gagged behind me.
Eirik whispered, "What is he—"
Hiccup's head snapped toward the Nightmare.
Emerald light burned in his eyes.
Real. Not reflection. Not a trick of the fire.
Glowing.
He spoke again.
Except he didn't.
He screamed at it in that same impossible tongue—full of cutting screeches, rattling growls, savage clicks that made every dragon on the field freeze.
His own monsters shifted, uneasy, lowering their heads in submission. Even the rogue dragons behind the Nightmare edged back.
The Nightmare itself hesitated.
I saw it.
Real fear.
And then Hiccup leaned forward. His voice dropped so low it barely carried, but every word was a snarl that seemed to crawl through the dirt and up our spines.
We didn't know what he said.
We didn't want to know.
But the meaning was clear.
Judgment.
Death.
He raised a single arm, the demon-like muscles bunching, and pointed at the Nightmare like a god sentencing a mortal.
And all the world held its breath.
Eirik finally croaked it.
"Chief... he's not one of us anymore."
And I couldn't deny it.
Not when he moved.
Not when he lunged with that monster's back and those glowing eyes.
Not when his own dragons roared approval behind him.
He wasn't a boy.
He wasn't even a man.
He was an Alpha.
And gods help us...
He was speaking their language. As if he was always meant to.