Hiccup lets out a contented sigh as he takes another bite of his meal.

He never knew lakefish could taste this good. Fat sizzling and skin crisp with faint hints of smoke, it's a far cry from the usual bland fair prepared in the Meade Hall, the meat soft and pulpy from boiling for too long. Or maybe it's because he hasn't had anything to eat since the daymeal this morning. Still, he surprises himself when he looks down to find only fish bone remaining in his hands.

"You want another?" asks the boy—Finn, as he told Hiccup to call him—nodding at a mud-encrusted shape, half-buried in the piping hot ash beside their fire. "You can have half of mine. I'm not that hungry."

Hiccup blushes. "Nah, I'm good. I just—we don't bake fish like this. We either salt them or roast them or boil them in soup. Who taught you to cook?"

Finn looks at him weirdly. "Our dad did."

Hiccup grins. "Mine did, too. Since my Mum, er, isn't around, we handle the cooking ourselves… but you guys obviously know more than we do."

And not just about cooking. His gaze flicks over to the Night Fury, who's curled possessively around the other half of the campfire, looking rightfully satisfied—and heavier by half a dozen fish besides. He shivers as he recalls the warmth of the creature's snout, touching his forehead.

It almost makes him angry at his ancestors. After all, they've been fighting dragons for seven generations! One would think, in all that time, someone would be smart enough to check if there was an alternative. If Berk had known that dragons didn't need to be fought… so many lives could've been saved. He could still have a Mum.

He sighs, because ultimately he knows his ancestors aren't to blame. A Night Fury befriending humans… just a few eykts ago he would've laughed at the absurdity himself. His father (or any adult on Berk for that matter) would've leapt at the chance to kill a Night Fury—if not for glory previously unheard of in the Annals, then for the more practical reason of eliminating one of the biggest threats in any raid. Hel, he's willing to bet his left leg that his peers would've leapt to kill as well. Astrid, Snotlout, the Twins… even meek mild-mannered Fishlegs. It was the Viking way.

Well, guess that just proves how much of a Viking he's not.

"So, has your Tribe always known?" He chucks his fish bone into the flames. The orange tongues surge for a split second, bolstered by residual grease. "That dragons aren't relentless killers?"

Finn looks at him weirdly. Well, extra-weirdly. He shares a glance with his sister. There's something in both their lips that could almost pass for smirks.

"That was our dad," the girl—Zephyr—answers this time. "We used to be dragon killers too, but he companioned with a Night Fury, like this one." She pats the young dragon on his rump.

Hiccup lifts his brows, impressed. "So your father can cook and bond with dragons? Sounds pretty unorthodox for a Viking Chief."

Finn sniggers. "Yup, he's unorthodox all right. He did a lot more than that, though; he united the Tribes and created the League and the Treaty, for one, and designed the Sky Docks on our island, and found the Hid—"

"History!" Zephyr exclaims. The boys jump. "He found, uh, our Tribe's lost historical records." She throws her brother an inscrutable look, and Finn withers. "Also, maybe we should stop bragging about our dad."

"No, no," Hiccup cuts in. "I don't mind. I don't think it's bragging, either," he adds sincerely. "I mean, your father sounds like a great man."

Already he's getting a picture in his mind's eye: a massive fur-cloaked Chieftain towering above his men, waist-long beard tangled into braids that spoke of glory and achievement, with a mighty voice and an even mightier laugh. Only when he tries to put that Chieftain atop a Night Fury does his imagination fail him, and he realizes he was picturing his own father all along.

The siblings are beaming at him. "He is!" they say in unison.

The unabashed pride in their voice ignites a flash of something both unexpected and unpleasant: irritation, inadequacy… jealousy. Briefly, almost spitefully, Hiccup wonders if this foreign Chief is as proud of his children as they are of him, but even as he asks the question he realizes he already has the answer—because what else could it be, when the children's eyes shine whilst talking about their father's exploits, when the corners of their lips twitch up into fond smiles? A dull prodding ache presses against his sternum as he forces himself to reconcile with the fact—the fact that these strangers have the one thing he's been striving for all his life… a father's approval.

He shakes his head, snipping off that train of thought like trimming an unhealthy crop.

"So how did he think to do that anyway? Befriending a dragon, I mean."

The question is half genuine curiosity and half an attempt to distract himself. Fortunately, the siblings appear none the wiser to the epic saga of self-doubt that just played out in his mind.

"I'unno," Finn replies after another shared glance with his sister. "I guess it just happened."

"But how? I mean, you said you guys used to be dragon killers too, but not only did he not kill a Night Fury, he bonded with it? I mean, Nighty—"

"Toothless," Zephyr corrects him.

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "Right. Yeah, Toothless. Anyway, I, uh, I spared his life, you know? And in return he spared mine. That's hardcore!" He blushes and decides to leave out the decidedly less-hardcore part where he virtually liquefied onto the ground afterwards. "And even so, he barely lets me touch him!"

To prove his point, he reaches out (for the third time since he's sat down next to the campfire) to try to pat the sleek black scales. When his fingertips are half an inch to their destination, Ni… Toothless, who previously looked to be sleeping, does a small jiggle and moves his tail away.

Hiccup throws his hands up in exaggerated indignance. "See? See? He's been giving me this silent treatment all evening!"

The siblings snigger.

"Give it time," Zephyr tells him. "He's just not used to you yet! You've gotta remember: we've been with him for a full day, while you pretty much just met him."

"Plus you don't have fish!" her brother pipes up. "We gave him lots of fish. Trout is his favorite!"

"Ugh, I know… you guys just make it look so effortless."

"I guess our dad taught us a lot of tricks," Zephyr shrugs. "Every dragon has its secrets."

Finn grins wide. "And we'll show them all to you!"

"Really? You'll do that?"

Zephyr looks somewhat hesitant at this, but Finn's arm shoots up in a cheer. "Of course!"

Hiccup laughs, buoyed by the easy friendly confidence. He sort of doubts he'll be any good at dragon bonding even with all the tricks in the world, but at least it'll help, right?

He wishes someone could tell him why he wants to pet Toothless so badly. Maybe it's from watching the creature swim and play with a boy much like himself, or maybe it's from witnessing the open affection he has displayed for the siblings. Maybe he just wants to prove to someone, anyone, that he isn't a failure at everything.

Or maybe it all comes down to that one, singular, magical touch they'd shared earlier; scale against skin, savior to savior, solitude interwoven into the beginnings of something that felt and still feels like it will—should—be more. It's silly, he knows, but he can't shake the deeply nestled hunch that he and the dragon were destined to meet… two kindred souls.

Aaand now you're just desperate, he scoffs. Kindred souls. Ha! Wait till Stoick the Vast hears of his son's latest delusion…

He winces, but quickly dismisses the thought with a kind of expert ease that can only come from years of practice. After all, his father had been yelling at him since time immemorial, and that hasn't stopped him from wreaking periodic, unmitigated havoc on the unsuspecting village of Berk. He figures he's already at absolute rock bottom when it comes to any sort of expectations, anyway.

A peal of rolling thunder interrupts his thoughts.

Hiccup looks up, startled. Overhead, the storm has combined with the encroaching darkness to form an impenetrable inky black, where clouds, cliffs, and even trees blend into the all-consuming nothingness. A flash of silver erupts from the depths, heralding the bone-shaking boom that follows moments later. Hiccup jumps, absently noting how Toothless does, too—the dragon's fluff spikes up almost like fur, and his pupils narrow into slits as he bounds away from the campfire and hisses at the sky, like an oversized black cat indignant at being disturbed. The pitter-patter of rain is already resounding in the distance, and Hiccup knows it won't be long before the torrent spreads to them.

"Hey, uh, looks like there's a storm coming. Do you guys wanna—"

"We need to go," Zephyr says. "Now."

"—uh, yeah, yup. That's what I was suggesti…" Hiccup trails off and blinks as his mind processed the voice. It wasn't Zephyr who said those words, almost imperious in their urgency. It was Finn.

"Zeph," the blond boy says again, uncharacteristically forceful. "We need to go!"

Hiccup looks back. Zephyr has her hands up, looking guilty and conciliatory but determined.

"Finky, I know we just discussed this, but think about it: we could go home right now! Instead of waiting for who-knows-how-long, we can—"

"It's not time yet!" the boy snaps. "It's not, you know it's not!"

Hiccup is utterly lost. He racks his brain for any snippet of conversation he might've missed that would help him make more sense of the flurry of words, but the harder he tries, the more confused he becomes. 'Not time'? Time for what? 'Go home'? They're from Eretville, which is across the sea, so do they mean they're going to sail again right now? When they have no ship, and in this kind of weather?

"But look at how fast the stormclouds gathered!" Zephyr is saying. "It's just like yesterday, when we got here—what if this is Thor or the gods or whoever made it happen, telling us to go?"

"I don't care," Finn says adamantly. "You promised."

"Finky, come on, you're being unreasonable. I didn't know a storm would come today. You've got to admit it feels a bit like fate is working in our favor, right? And not to mention we—"

"I don't care!" Finn shouts. He limps over to Toothless—who's staring back and forth between the suddenly-belligerent siblings, green pupils still narrow and almost fearful—and hugs the dragon tight. "I don't care," the boy chokes, voice muffled against the black scales.

The Night Fury huffs. While obviously surprised at first by the sudden human boy dangling around his neck, he soon calms down and bends his head, giving the boy's blond fluff a generous lick.

Finn tightens his grip. "I just want him to be okay," he says, small, and even though he's taller and stronger-looking than Hiccup, he appears extraordinarily young.

Zephyr sighs. "Finky, everything is going to be okay. You saw how interested in dragons he is, how willing he is to learn. This Toothless touched him, you know, not the other way around; I'm sure everything is in good hands—"

"You don't know that!" Abruptly the boy drops himself from his previous position. He almost stumbles and falls, but rights himself at the last moment. "You know what? If you aren't leaving, then I am, and you can go home by yourself." He takes a few defiant steps away from the fire and into the gloom. Toothless keens and stands up.

Zephyr leaps to her feet. "No!" she shouts, bounding over to her brother, who shrugs off her attempt to grab his shoulder. "Nuffink, you get back here right now! This is our chance, it could be our only chance, Thordammit—stop being unreasonable!"

"And you should stop being a beetle-munching oathbreaker!" he shouts back. "You promised we'd stay! Come on, Hiccup, help me get out of here."

Hiccup jumps. He's been watching their—exchange? argument? row?—on the sidelines with growing alarm, but wasn't expecting to get involved, the same way he usually keeps his nose out of the Twins' business. This isn't the usual Thorston sibling drama though, with nonsensical arguments about whimsical complaints, which no outsider can understand—not that he understood a word of this argument, either, but the air between the two still sizzles with emotion. He looks at Zephyr, brows and lips knitted into a scowl, and at Finn, green eyes blazing with determination. He opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say.

And then the sky cracks open, and the rain pours down on them all.

The fat icy droplets have them soaked within heartbeats. Their campfire retreats into the half-burned woodpile like a wounded beast, hissing up a cloud of ash and vapour as it gets pounded into embers. Toothless lets out a low startled noise and covers his head with his wings.

Lightning slices across the darkness.

"Hiccup," Zephyr breathes out, solemn. Her voice rings out, clear and rising above the thunder. "Can you take us to your village?"

"M-my village? Uh, yeah! I was just going to ask you if—"

But she's no longer listening. A terse nod, a thin smile, and her slender form is already next to the fire, soaking a piece of cloth in fish grease. A moment later she brandishes a make-shift torch, made from one of the branches in the pile, her face gaunt as she makes her way over to her brother.

"I'm sorr—" Finn begins.

"No. I am. I made you a promise." She brushes a strand of wet hair out of his eyes, then reaches behind him to pull up the hood of his fur cloak. "Let's get out of here."

Finn nods and leans his weight on her. She pulls up her own hood, and glances over her shoulders.

"Hiccup?"

Hiccup blushes and scrambles to his feet. "Uh, y-yeah, I—let me… okay, I have my sketchbook, let me just get my charcoal pen and—"

"Leave it. We don't have time."

"Uh, okay." A raindrop hits him next to his eye, and he blinks. "Yeah, probably a good idea to scram."

Zephyr nods.

"Lead the way," she says, weary and uncertain, like she isn't sure if she's making the right decision. Afraid. She takes a deep breath, the sound oddly muted in the din. "We're counting on you."

"Oh. Yeah. Okay. Let's see…"

Even with their torch, the surroundings are becoming more difficult to discern by the minute. Hiccup squints at the blurred scenery in front of them, before he points toward the small ledge where Zephyr 'captured' him this afternoon. "This way."

They make a silent company as they march along, relying only on the torch's waning orange flicker or the occasional lightning from above for illumination. The basin they're in is small, and soon they arrive at a crevice, which leads out into the forests above with a few easy climbs.

Zephyr clambers onto the formation before turning to give Finn a hand.

"You alright there, Hiccup?" she shouts.

Hiccup is, in fact, not alright. He had been about to climb up after them when he felt a small tug. He thought maybe his vest had caught on some jagged rock, but when he turned, he was greeted by a mess of shiny black scales and big emerald eyes. Evidently, the Night Fury followed their trek through the downpour.

Hiccup had forgotten about the dragon, so caught up was he in the sibling's urgency to leave. He looks down, apologetic.

"Sorry, bud, I can't take you back to my village. They'll kill you."

The dragon sniffs and coos. The hem of Hiccup's fur vest is still in his mouth, gripped by his definitely-present-teeth, though the piece of clothing is already damp enough that even a bucket or two of dragon spittle would hardly make a difference.

The storm is gearing up to full force by now, its sounds blending into a continuous rumbling roar. A fine mist hangs close to the ground, created by countless splattering raindrops. Hiccup wonders why the young Fury doesn't just fly away—surely there are some caves nearby, or at least trees with drooping canopies, where more comfort can be found than in a barren cove with nothing between you and the sky. A thunderstorm should be as good a reason as any to crave shelter, even for a nocturnal dragon.

He hears Zephyr calling for him to hurry up.

"C'mon, bud," he hisses, trying to pry the dragon's mouth off his clothes. "Go, uh, fly to somewhere dry. I have to—"

He stops. Toothless is staring at him, irises as green as ever, even in this darkness, and he is reminded of the few fateful moments yesterday before he freed the magnificent animal—when he'd looked into those same eyes… and saw himself.

Helpless. Lonely. Fearful.

Toothless lets out a low mewling keen. And this time, somehow, Hiccup understands.

Please don't leave me alone.

His heart drops.

"You can't fly," he blurts. "You—oh. Ooh. It must be your tail."

Gods, he's so stupid. He's been sketching the dragon for a whole afternoon, of course he's seen the asymmetric tailfin. But Toothless had preferred to stay on the ground, cuddled next to the siblings, and seemed perfectly happy afoot. He'd assumed the dragon didn't want to fly, not that he couldn't fly. It's never occurred to him that the dragon might be trapped here.

And that he is responsible.

"Oh… I'm so, so sorry," he whispers.

"Hiccup?" Zephyr calls again. "What the Hel are you waiting for?"

"Toothless!" he hollers back, a hand on the dragon's snout for reassurance; what had seemed like an unattainable achievement a moment ago now comes naturally to him. "What about Toothless?"

"What?" he hears Zephyr shout back. "Hiccup, come on, we don't have time!"

"We'll be back," Finn adds. "Promise! But we need to go. Please!"

Their voices are muffled by distance and thunder and rain. Hiccup tries to tell them that he can't, that he has to stay here, but they don't hear him. Soon their torchlight disappears behind the rocky outcrop, plunging him into a world of dim blue and grey.

He cannot explain the sorrow that blindsides him. I'll be back, he tells himself. "I'll be back," he tells the dragon, who only licks him.

Hiccup has never been licked by a dragon.

"I'm sorry," he cries, bending forward to put his weight on the scales. "I'm sorry I shot you down, I'm sorry I'm leaving you… I-I have to go."

When he finally tears himself away, it doesn't feel like he's escaping from a dangerous beast that can snipe down a catapult from hundreds of feet away.

It feels like he's leaving behind a friend.

ooo

The hike back to Berk proper is short but brutal. In the storm, every unassuming feature of the normally-benevolent forest becomes filled with malice—falling branches, tumbling rocks, unseen potholes and tangled roots. The stubborn little torch lights barely two feet ahead of them, and with Finn's bad foot, he and Zephyr take turns to act as a crutch or stepping stone, whichever the situation calls for. Lightning strikes intersperse their harrowing journey, brilliant white, long enough to blind but too brief to see by, with each flash causing them to hold their breath in preparation for the inevitable boom of Mjolnir's blow.

All three are gasping for air and drenched to the bone when they round the final hill, when at long last the sentinel statues barrel into view, along with houses and breathing smoke-shafts and glowing windows. In the distance, the soaring gates to the Meade Hall stand gaunt and imposing, carved into the cliff-face and illuminated by the gargantuan braziers blazing on despite the rain.

Hiccup leads the siblings through the path he took when he snuck out, weaving in and out of roads of packed mud and sometimes rudimentary paving, darting between houses with their garish dragon roofs. At long last they reach the back entrance of his house and tumble inside with a collective, exhausted sigh.

"My humble abode," Hiccup mutters, once he catches his breath. He shrugs off his fur vest, completely soaked through, and makes his way to the cold hearth in semi-darkness. A few gropes and his fingers close around the tinderbox. The numbness in his limbs makes the daily task a monumental struggle, but finally sparks start flying off the fire-steel, and several more tries later, the hearth springs to life.

Hiccup allows himself a tiny worn-out smile. "Come on," he beckons his impromptu guests, "you guys should warm yourselves up."

The siblings nod and shuffle closer. They follow his example and peel their cloaks off, then plop themselves on the floor next to the fire, letting out two satisfied moans.

Now that they're safe and warm, Hiccup finds his mind drifting back to the hunched, lonesome silhouette at the edge of the cove, already burned into his memory. His chest aches at the mere image.

This morning when he set out towards Raven Point, he'd expected to find nothing—or, at the very most, some tracks or other evidence to prove he hadn't been dreaming… to prove he'd truly caught (and freed) a dragon.

He did not expect to meet said dragon.

He did not expect to touch said dragon.

And he sure as frosted Hel did not expect to... care.

The Night Fury's helpless keen reverberates in his head, making him want to bash his skull against a rock. Supposedly that straightens you right out—Dad swears by it, after all—which might be just what he needs. Wham, and his brain is reformed into something simpler, sturdier, all bashing and killing and wrangling. Something that doesn't care about a flightless dragon in a storm.

He wonders if Toothless is safe. 'Thor strikes only those who dare reach for Asgard', or so the saying goes—and the Night Fury is at the bottom of a basin surrounded by tall trees. But even if lightning isn't a problem, the storm might hurl any number of objects down into the cove, where even a stray branch might cause serious damage. And then there's the storm itself—dragons never raid during storms, so this may very well be the first time Toothless is forced to experience one.

He must be afraid, Hiccup thinks, as his heart gives a painful lurch. He feels stricken with guilt and worry both—a list of them flood over him, everything he wishes to know and does not: Will I see him again? Will he be angry at me? Will he still be there when I go back? Will he know I'm sorry?

Will he be okay?

"He will," Zephyr says soothingly.

Hiccup jolts. He wasn't even aware he'd said anything out loud, but the remnants of his muttered question lingers just under his tongue. He stares at her.

"Dragons are sturdy," she explains, taking his silence as doubt. "Their scales are fireproof and water-tight, and even in a blizzard, they can keep themselves warm by toasting the ground."

"Oh." Hiccup blinks. "But… but what about the thun—"

"Night Furies have a special affinity for lightning," she says breezily. "It's as much their element as rock and stone are a Gronckle's. Trust me."

"But he… but how can you be sure? How do you know?"

She snorts. "Our father bonded with one, remember? Plus, if Vikings can survive one stormy night just fine, a dragon can, too." She leans forward to touch him on the arm, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "You don't need to worry."

Hiccup blows out a sigh, tension draining from his muscles. He still worries, of course, as one is wont to do for a friend (even if the title seems almost absurd and entirely undeserved in afterthought), but her words still manage to assuage the most irrational parts of his fears. The guilt lingers nonetheless, along with the desire to be close again—to be in that small, magical place where time almost stands still, where he will feel the smooth supple scales against his palm once more; where he can apologize properly this time.

"I want to go see him," he says to her, half plea and half declaration.

"You will," she assures him.

"We will," her brother adds. "Tomorrow, after the storm, once we build—uhm." He scratches his head, sheepish. "The point is, we'll go. All three of us. Okay?"

Hiccup nods. "Okay."

The siblings grin at him, and suddenly his gratitude bottles up into something more, a dense little thing lodged in his throat.

"Thanks," he manages to whisper. The syllable is lost in the crackle of the hearth, but he thinks that's okay.

For a long while, the three of them stay in that position, faces rosy with flickering orange, listening to the tranquil, almost-somniferous chorus of splatters and pops: the water outside and the fire inside, waxing and waning as their hair and tunics dry.

"Nice house," Zephyr remarks quietly, breaking the languorous silence.

"It's smaller than I imagined," Finn mutters. "The stories make it seem—"

He stops when he catches a tired glare from his sister.

"He was talking about some of the stories we've heard about other Chieftain homes," she explains. "Not this home in particular, of course, which would've been absurd. Anyway"—she smiles, tired and terse but genuine—"this is a beautiful home."

Hiccup's mind kind of freezes. All he sees are her cerulean eyes, darkened by dusk but still as radiant as the midnight sun, reminding him of something powerful and fierce and just plain awesome. The hearthfire dances in her auburn hair, blazing twilight, and he has to force himself to look away because if not, he's sure he'll just keep staring until Ragnarok.

"Uh, t-thanks," he stammers, cheeks steaming. "It's pretty m-messy, though." He flushes harder as he looks around—haphazard heaps of shields and weaponry are scattered around the room, with worn clothes strewn atop them and each other, and on the bench a little ways over sit dirty plates that he let pile up with no one here to nag him about it. Ugh, he knew Dad's dogged refusal to hire a part-time cleaner would come around to bite him.

Zephyr shakes her head. When she speaks, her voice is soft, almost wondrous.

"I don't see a mess. Only history."

Hiccup blinks, putting aside his embarrassment. It's an odd thing to say when first entering someone's home, and stranger when you consider the fact that every building on Berk, aside from the Meade Hall, is less than three years old.

He forces out an awkward laugh. "Uh. History? A history of reptilian arson, maybe."

She shakes her head again, but doesn't explain. "So… do you live alone here?"

"For the moment, yeah."

"For the moment?"

"Yeah. I live with my dad, but he's not here, and won't be for a while."

"I see." He thinks he hears the tiniest sign of relief in her exhale, but it might just be the storm. "And where's Gr—I mean, where did your father go?"

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "Where else? Out at sea, trying to find this Dragon Nest of his. I swear, he's more obsessed with that place than Gobber is with his belt buckle—that's my Master, by the way, even if I don't want to admit it sometimes. He's really obsessed with that belt buckle, which was why I mentioned him, but you don't know him so you don't get it and I think I should shut up now." He hangs his head and half-considers jumping into the flames. "Erm. Anyway, Dad's gone," he finishes lamely, "so you guys are free to stay here for the time being. We can figure something out when he comes back."

"Huh. Thanks." Then she sucks in her lips, like biting back hesitation and longing and curiosity. When she next speaks, her voice is uncharacteristically timid. "I would… it would be nice if I could meet him."

He tilts his head. "Meet…? Oh. Meet Dad?"

She nods. "I don't know if he'll be back in time before we, uh. But yeah. That's something I'd like to do." She smiles, looking almost flustered, before adding quickly: "To thank him for his hospitality, of course."

Hiccup gives her a weird look. "Personally I wouldn't be so eager, but you do you I guess. Gotta warn you though, he's not much fun to be around—not that he's around very often. Always surly and disappointed, trying his best to treat me like I'm an inconvenient cloud of fog. I haven't seen him smile in years." He sighs. "Sometimes I wonder if we really are related."

"I'm sure he's proud of you," Zephyr declares, too quick and confident for his liking. "Besides, he's the Chief! And chiefing is harder than it looks." She sighs, slumping just a tad. "Believe me, I would know."

"Proud?" His tongue flicks disdainfully to form the 'd'. "Yeah, no. Not my dad. I'm just too much of… you know. Nobody would ever expect I'm the son of a Chieftain, let alone—" he stops, brows squeezing together as his thoughts snag like knitted wool on thorn. "Hold up. How… how did you know my dad's the Chief? I never told you that."

Zephyr's eyes widen. Next to her, Finn lets out an audible gasp. Hiccup's frown deepens.

"Uhh," she begins, "you, uh, you told us."

"No, I didn't. I would've remembered. Plus, you also called our house a 'Chieftain home'."

"Oh, did I? Well it was an educated guess. It's one of the biggest houses around, and very close to the Meade Hall."

"It didn't sound like a guess to me."

"Well, it was, believe it or not."

"Right…" Hiccup drawls, narrowing his eyes. "That still doesn't explain why you know about Dad being Chief."

She ignores the skepticism dripping from his tone. "You told us," she repeats, resolute. "You just forgot about it. Right, Finky?" She nudges her brother, who begins to nod vigorously like some lever-controlled mechanism. "See, you did tell us."

Hiccup almost wants to laugh. They're hiding something, they have to be—when he suggests as much, Zephyr turns chalk pale, her freckles jumping out in stark relief, the most shaken she has been in the short time he's known her; and her brother is even worse, fidgeting and twitching like a lice-infested cat.

But what? He has the distinct feeling that something is a bit flimsy, but no matter how many times he examines and reexamines their story, he can't seem to find any outright contradictions. Everything holds up under scrutiny. Shipwrecked? Plausible, what with the frequent summer storms and dragon raids. Eretville? Berkians simply haven't explored enough of the Archipelago for him to judge, though he wishes they have. Chief Eret being their father? Also plausible—the siblings do appear to be high-born, with nice clothes and fine weapons, and Zephyr especially carries herself with confidence and authority.

Their father bonding with a Night Fury? Now that one's a total no-brainer. After everything he's witnessed today… it has got to be fact.

None of this answers his original questions, though—like how they know he's the Chief's son, or how they know, so casually, that they're staying in a Chief's home. What are they trying to accomplish by hiding that knowledge? Could they really have deduced it from all the details in his house? He bites his lower lip, pensive—he distinctly remembers something else that Zephyr had said, a few eykts ago, back when he still thought her delusional. She'd said a great many odd things back then, but there was one phrase that stood out in particular, a blaring signal that tells him she knows a lot more than she lets on, so if he could just—

Berk. Earlier today, she'd said Berk. She'd called it Old Berk, which was weird, but she obviously understood where she was. Understands where she is.

Hiccup rubs his chin, just as another bout of lightning announces its presence through their slitted window. Could it be that their Tribe, this Eretville, had already visited Berk in the past? That explains why the siblings know about Dad and the Chieftain's House, but he's sure he'd remember a visit like that. And why would they hide it? It makes no sense, unless they have some alternate agenda, which he's just too tired to even attempt to figure out at the moment.

Maybe they're something more than human, he thinks absently. Zephyr for one certainly has the makings of a Huldra (though obviously she isn't because her brother isn't some hideous monster)—captivating him as easy as honey trapping flies. Hiccup winces as he recalls his pitiful display all afternoon, blushing whenever she so much as looks him in the eye, spellbound. Hel, just some moments ago, she'd basically turned him into a draugr with her smile… gawking and stuttering, about two seconds away from drooling.

Maybe they're Álfar, he muses. The Elfin folk. They sure look the part—both are tall and lithe and strong, brimming with youth and energy, and even the most critical observer would say they're objectively beautiful. Elves are good at spells, or so the legends say. Good with animals, too, which would explain the siblings' knack with dragons. If Gobber's right about trolls, a couple of elves wandering around Berk shouldn't be too far-fetched. Perhaps they're just here to steal everyone's socks… the right ones.

He shoves the mental image away before a laugh escapes. It strikes him how remarkably relaxed he is—laughter should be the last logical reaction to two strangers with a shady backstory currently sitting at his hearth, yet he's as calm as Gothi after a batch of her gothi-shrooms. Curious? Definitely. Alarmed? Not at all.

It's the aura, he thinks. Aura, hunch, vibe; whatever you call it. Perhaps he's being naive, but he just cannot, cannot detect any iota of malice in the two. They weren't exactly courteous at first, he'll admit, but later on when all three of them were sitting around the fire and eating their nightmeal, conversing easily—and even just now when they reassured him over Toothless—there's an unmistakable sort of… something, something soft and warm and shaped like friendship. He's sensed it in the way they treated him, talked to him, looked at him—Camaraderie? Trust? Affection, even?

Whatever it is, it isn't ill will.

He wants to trust them, he realizes abruptly. Maybe it has to do with the inherent closeness he's felt ever since he's set eyes on them, or maybe it has to do with the warm ordinary familiarity he thinks he sees in their features, in Zephyr's hair and Finn's eyes. Maybe it has to do with Toothless, with how much they obviously care about the dragon's welfare. And sure, maybe they're a bit sketchy, and maybe they have their own goals, but they mean no harm, and he thinks he can trust them.

And that's enough for the time being.

Hiccup blinks and refocuses on the two. Zephyr is in full orator mode, yammering on about how he must have forgotten what he told them, and how his house is so plainly suitable for a Chieftain, he can't fault her for making the right guess. And how they are definitely, definitely not hiding anything.

"You're right, perhaps I did mention my dad," he concedes, knowing he didn't. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought." He hides a private smirk when the siblings visibly exhale, posture softening as they slump backwards, shoulders sloping once more.

"Told you so!" Zephyr chuckles, a bit too giddily. "And, uh, yeah. We're pretty exhausted ourselves. We've been through, you know, quite a lot! Maybe you can show us where we might rest up?" She gives her brother a quick glance, and Finn yawns dramatically.

Hiccup doesn't even bother calling out the act. He's already grown used to these nonverbal exchanges, as much a part of their communication as words and phrases. For a moment he finds himself a little envious… what would it be like to have a brother or sister? Someone who can understand you, guide you? Maybe he would've been less useless growing up, less of a failure.

He chides himself for being silly. "Sure," he tells her, standing up with a pop in his knees. "Let me find some furs, and you guys can sleep by the hearth here."

"Sounds great." She flashes him one of her annoyingly captivating smiles, which prompts him to make a hasty retreat in the direction of their storage closets. "You should rest up, too!" she calls from behind him. "You're coming with us to see Toothless again, right?"

"Yeah!" he shouts over his shoulders, unable to control the surge of eagerness in his voice. "When are we leaving? I mean, it's no hurry, and you guys know him better anyway, but I was thinking maybe I can go down to the Storehouse to grab a bucket of fish, you know?" He rummages in their too-big and too-dusty closet before fishing out two battered pelts. "Uh, these might not smell that great," he hollers, wrinkling his nose to stifle a sneeze.

"As long as it doesn't smell like yaknog!" comes the reply. Hiccup is about to ask them what a yaknog is, when a colossal bang from the front door resounds through the house.

For several heartbeats he goes right into Raid-mode, which has him throwing down the furs and scurrying to grab a shield. It takes a peal of thunder to remind him that Berk is safe for tonight.

"Hiccup?" three people call out at once.

"Oh, lort," Hiccup mutters. He snatches the furs from the ground and races toward the front door. "Uh, uhm, I'm here, I'm here, don't—"

The lumbering shadow of Gobber the Belch strides into the firelight.

"Oh thank Thor yer safe laddie," the blacksmith cries once he spots his apprentice. Hiccup thinks he hears one of the siblings (Finn, probably) squeal "Oh my gods! It's Great-uncl—" before Gobber makes quick work of the distance between them, wooden peg-leg clunking against the floor, and envelopes him into a suffocating hug. "Ye didn't show up to nightmeal—we were reading the Book of Dragons to prepare ye fer t'morrow—figured ye wouldn't miss it fer anything, so when ye didn't show, and with this weather, I was gettin' worried—"

"Uh," Hiccup says, muffled and trying to get himself loose, "thanks for worrying about me—"

"Oh no, not fer you! 'S purely fer logistical reasons." The blacksmith ruffles his hair. "An apprentice is so hard to come by nowadays, hehehe. An'way, I brought it if ye want ta read." He finally lets go of his charge—Hiccup leaps at the opportunity to gulp down air untainted by Gobber's armpit stench—and triumphantly fishes out a sopping parchment tome.

"Here it is! The Book of—"

The ancient manuscript drops from his hand onto the floor with a wet squelch. Hiccup scrambles out of his Master's death grip and throws his scrawny self in between the two parties, a futile attempt to shield the siblings from view.

"—Who in Odin's arse are you two?"

Author's Notes:

1. The Vikings eat 2 meals a day, the daymeal and the nightmeal, roughly equivalent to our breakfast and dinner.

2. A Huldra (neutral form Hulder) is a kind of forest nymph/forest siren in Scandinavian folklore. They protect the forest and can seduce men for their own goals. Females are said to be exceedingly beautiful, but males are hideous and troll-like.

3. A Draugr is a reanimated corpse in Scandinavian folklore. Basically a zombie.

4. Join the A Thing of Vikings HTTYD fanserver on Discord! invite/xVuZfK2