As stated in the summary, this fic will be a Hiccup Leaves AU, inspired on the musical The Phantom of the Opera. It is not a songfic however, and it takes place in the HTTYD universe as normal. It will absolutely not be necessary to know/like the musical for this fic to be understandable! It will not follow or copy the musical one-to-one, but the fic will simply be inspired by its story and its songs. Not all characters from the musical will be featured either; for instance, for those familiar with the musical: there will be NO Raoul (and no love-triangle shenanigans!), but other and multiple characters might behave similarly to him.

I hope you enjoy!

I can also be found on Tumblr at aleteia-ff, where I post background information and sneak previews for new chapters!

Overture

A loud, crackling sound. Screaming. A blast.

Astrid held an arm in front of her eyes, shielding them from the light and debris caused by the explosion. The beast in front of her looked at her, curiously, as it stepped onto what little was left of the house it'd just destroyed. This was the opening she'd been looking for.

"Snotlout!" she yelled, gesturing at the guy a few steps away from her, who was frantically trying to scare away a Gronckle with his axe.

Snotlout looked at her and followed her finger to their target. He nodded, gave the Gronckle a firm poke in the head with the hilt of his axe, and turned towards his new victim. Astrid gave him the signal that meant Go and, deafening those around them with their respective battle cries, they rushed towards the destructive creature. One of its heads gazed curiously at Astrid and released a bit of gas from its mouth. Astrid tumbled to the side, momentarily confusing it, and then leapt, axe raised above her head. It landed right on the Zippleback's neck, and the dragon's gas-breathing head fell to the ground with a small thump – lifeless, its snake-like tongue comically hanging out of its mouth. Seconds after, its other head joined it and the Zippleback's body collapsed. Snotlout grinned at her triumphantly.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead. "Nice job, Snot." She forced out a small smile. After all, after she'd slain her head, his job had been significantly easier.

"Why would you do that?" someone whined behind her. Astrid twirled around. The twins. Of course.

Ruffnut walked up to her, waving her sword around aimlessly. Tuffnut was right behind her. "You know we love to kill Zipplebacks!"

Tuffnut nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they're like, the twins of dragons! Two heads, two times the power, two times the awesomeness!"

His excitement had the exact opposite effect on Astrid. She sighed, pinching her forehead. "At least ZIpplebacks have two brains," she muttered, just loudly enough for the twins to hear.

She gazed around, looking for her next target. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a Deadly Nadder flying towards their harbour, where Berk's fishing boats had docked earlier that day. She readied her axe and started sprinting down Berk's slopes in an attempt to catch up with the beast.

"There's nothing wrong with only having one brain, Astrid!" Ruffnut shot back behind her. "Yeah," Tuffnut added. "That's why we're so in sync!" A sound that seemed like a high-five followed.

Astrid picked up her pace while keeping her eyes fixated on the Nadder. She padded her skirt, looking for the bola she'd strapped around her hips when the raid had started. The Nadder was starting to lower itself down towards the ships. She had to hurry, or she'd miss her shot. Then, she hit a wall.

She looked up to find Stoick the Vast gazing down at her. She had bumped into all his… vastness.

Stoick himself seemed unimpressed, as if this wasn't the first time it had happened to him. "Astrid, I need you on the watchtower," he ordered, his voice deep and his tone serious.

"But that Nadder's heading straight for our fishing ships!"

"Dragons steal sheep, not fish," he stated. "Now head up there and man the catapult!"

She took a small second to herself to process Stoick' s dismissal before strengthening her resolve and making her way up to the watchtower. She ran up the stairs and arrived at the catapult only slightly out of breath. Her current position on top of the tower gave her a good overview of Berk under siege; old village, lots and lots of new houses. The place was swarmed with dragons looking for their precious livestock; a few of them had already lost their lives doing so, including the Hideous Zippleback Snotlout and she had beheaded earlier. Vikings were running around, swords, shields and axes held high and torches lit. It was chaos, but exactly the kind of chaos she had gotten used to after 19 years. And they couldn't stop; it was either the dragons, or them.

And she was not going to let one more Viking die. Not on her watch.

She scanned the area, looking for the best place to strike; with as long as it took a catapult to reload, she had to make sure every single shot counted. She spotted a Gronckle heading for a few of their sheep. She turned the catapult, carefully aiming it so that it would not hit any Vikings. She grabbed the handle firmly, pulled it and heard a soft click.

She froze. That wasn't the sound a catapult was supposed to make.

Her vision went white and she was knocked back. She landed hard on the wooden flooring, sure that was going to leave a few bruises, and looked around her. The catapult was going up in flames. And it had not even fired.

"Astrid!" she heard from down below. Looking over the edge, she saw Fishlegs slightly jumping up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of her. "Astrid, are you okay!?"

She groaned. Not this too. "Yeah, I'm fine!"

"Get down from there! The whole platform is going to burn!"

"I know, Fishlegs!" she grumbled as she scrambled to her feet. She grabbed her axe and ran down the watchtower's stairs. Apart from the tower's top and the steps, everything was made of stone; despite these… unfortunate circumstances, it would survive.

Back at the bottom of the tower, she was met by a concerned Fishlegs. "What happened up there?"

She angrily turned at him. "What does it look like, Fishlegs!? The catapult exploded."

Fishlegs frowned. "That's impossible, it must've been…" Suddenly his eyes went wide, looking past her. "Astrid, look out!"

She turned around, gazing at the tower in disbelief. As if the Gods themselves had heard her, its base was now very much on fire. "What!? Stone doesn't burn!"

Fishlegs jumped nervously from one foot onto the other. "I know Astrid, now let's get out of here!"

She nodded and sprinted back towards Berk's centre. She heard a deafening noise behind her and turned around to face it. At the edge of the village, the watchtower crumbled and collapsed neatly into the sea. It almost looked calculated. She had never seen any form of destruction like it. That tower had stood there for years.

Around her, other Vikings had momentarily put their murderous tendencies on hold as well, watching the spectacle with a mixture of fear and awe. A few of them ran towards it, hoping to salvage whatever was left; she knew it'd be futile and hurried after them to make sure no one would get hurt. Then, she heard another explosion.

It came from a different direction this time and echoed across the island. The harbour. She ran, a few others following behind her. She slipped to a halt at the top of the cliff, looking down to their fleet of warships. Which were now on fire. She hadn't heard one echoing explosion. But a series of them that had ravaged their entire fleet.

She ran down as quickly as she could, but by the time she got to the ships, it was too late; most of them had already started to sink. She cried in frustration as she tried to salvage what she could, but to no avail. Eventually, she was forced to admit defeat, falling down on her knees amidst a pile of blunt swords and axes, watching the bow of their biggest ship finally dip into the water.

Six of their best war ships. Gone. Only a few smaller ones and their fishing ships remained. At least Stoick had been right about that. Although on closer inspection, she found a whole barrel of fish had gone missing too.

She balled her hands into fists and threw her axe into the nearest pole, barely missing Gobber's head as he approached her. In the distance, the sun was starting to rise.

Gobber put his real hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Astrid. The dragons are gone."

Reluctantly, she let him lead her back up to the village centre. She gazed around; Berk lay in shambles. The Vikings that still had some energy in them were rounding up captured and slain dragons. Amidst the chaos, it looked like they'd hardly been able to make a dent in their numbers. This was the worst night they'd had in years.

She started to help out her fellow tribesmen, but was halted by the scream of a dragon.

"What now," she muttered as she spun around, looking at the direction the sound had come from. The arena. Of course.

In the distance, three Gronckles, a Monstrous Nightmare and a Zippleback flew off. He had done it again.

Somewhere in the village, she could hear Tuffnut shouting, in the most menacing tone of voice he could pull off. "Beware, the Phantom of the Arena!"

Later that morning, after most of the debris had been cleared, Stoick called a meeting in the Great Hall. Astrid had been working all morning, too tired and angry to sleep. She sat down next to Ruffnut, but refused to actually say a word to her sort-of-friend. After quieting things down Stock spoke up at the head of the meeting table. "So, I guess we can say that things did not go well last night."

There were a few agreeing nods, followed by silence. This hadn't been the first time a raid night had ended like this, but it was by far the worst one yet. Next to her, Ruffnut stirred. "Chief, I think everyone is on the same page about that. How about we actually start talking about this Dragon Ghost?"

Next to Ruffnut, Tuffnut stood up from his seat. "Yes, the Phantom of the Arena!" As much as Astrid hated to admit it, he had gotten quite good at making that phrase sound as spooky as possible.

Stoick shook his head, visibly agitated. "There's no such thing as ghosts. Let alone a Phantom."

Astrid scoffed. Coming from the chief who'd named his son Hiccup to scare away trolls. Yet ghosts could not possibly exist.

A pang of pain hit her. Hiccup.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up from her seat, drawing the Vikings' attention. She started out as calmly as she could. "Indeed, Chief, ghosts do not exist." Stoick eyed her warily. "But something is picking us apart. This has been going on for nearly a year now and, quite frankly, I think you're in denial."

The chief's face hardened. Astrid stood up straighter. She had to get this out of her system. It had been going on for too long. "It started with small things; weapons and supplies occasionally disappearing, distracting explosions here and there and of course, consistently releasing every damn dragon we catch from the arena. But last night, he, she, it, whatever it is, completely picked us apart." She looked around, carefully taking the faces that made up her tribe. "It was thought out, it was effective, it was methodical and calculated. Our catapult booby-trapped, our watchtower destroyed, our fleet…" She balled her hands into fists. "Ravaged. So whatever it is that's doing this to us, I highly doubt it's a dragon. It's too clever. So it's either someone from the outside, or," she took one more look at the faces that represented Berk. "Someone from the inside."

She let the silence sink in, before turning back to Stoick. "So if you're willing to let this person, this Phantom, go freely, be my guest. But I won't stand around and wait until he ends up killing one of us." The memories from last night came back to her. "It almost killed me."

Stoick looked back at her and asked, awfully serene: "What do you propose we do then, Astrid?"

She smiled. She'd had given this a lot of thought today. "Check everything. Don't let any more of our equipment go unguarded or unchecked."

Snotlout grunted from his seat. "That's useless; he'll just sabotage us in other ways. Explosions, fire, whatever. Come on Astrid, no one has ever even seen this guy. He's practically invisible!"

Stoick ignored Snotlout's comments. "Go on, Astrid."

She grinned at Snotlout. "I know this does not guarantee anything, but it's a start. I'll figure out where to go from there."

Stoick nodded. "Alright then, we shall begin with that." He looked around the table. "Fishlegs! You're in charge of overseeing our weapon and equipment inspections." Fishlegs' face visibly lit up, only to be directly overcome with worry about his new responsibilities.

The meeting broke up and Astrid hurried towards Stoick, wanting to talk to him in private. Recognizing her intention, he immediately took her aside. "Yes, Astrid?"

She wasted no time to get to her point. "Let me guard the arena."

Stoick shook his head. "We need every Viking we can spare defending the village during the raids. I couldn't be less damned about the dragons escaping; with the consistent reconstruction we have to do, no one gets around to dragon training anyways. At this point, we might even be better off just killing off every dragon rather than capturing any of them."

"I know," she agreed, trying to keep Stoick's attention. "It's not about the dragons, nor dragon training. But there's one thing the Phantom" – the name still did not sound right to her; she didn't deem her adversary worthy enough to give him a name – "always does: he frees the dragons. Regardless of what he destroys, or sabotages, he always goes for the captured dragons at one point or another. Traitor or outsider," She saw Stoick's face darken at the suggestion of a traitor in their midst. "That's where we could catch him."

Stoick let the suggestion dawn on him for a second and then nodded in agreement. "Alright then. Just make sure no one finds out. That could jeopardize your little scheme. In the meantime, Gobber and I will keep an eye on whether anyone goes missing in Berk during the night."

She smiled at him. "Noted. I won't let you down."

Stoick slightly smiled back. "Be careful, Astrid."

Stoick's reassurance held close to her heart, she turned on her heel and walked out of the Great Hall. Her anger over the events of last night and her failure to prevent them turned into new resolve. Dragon Ghost. The Phantom of the Arena. No matter his name, she'd take him down. No doubt of it.