Hi, guys!

Whew! I thought I'd never see this chapter get published. But here we are. It wasn't pretty, but I finally got the thing uploaded. Many thanks to those who commented on the Author's Note. Your ideas helped a lot! I'll try to get Chapter 5 uploaded next week. If that's not possible, I'll be sure to let you guys know. I wouldn't leave you hanging.

Happy reading!

***

It couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening. Dragons and Vikings were enemies. Yet he'd just been saved by one!

Curling its elegant, finned tail around its forepaws, the Night Fury stepped toward him, its wings half extended, the look in its eyes foreign and unreadable.

The words enemy and danger lodged themselves in Hiccup's mind and he stumbled back, inwardly cursing himself for being such a wuss. Dragons could smell fear, and he was giving off enough nervous energy to fry an egg. But strangely, the moment he retreated, the Night Fury stopped, as if it didn't want to frighten him. Slowly, it came forward again, lowering its head in a sort of reassuring gesture. It took a while for Hiccup to build up the nerve to allow it to come close, but the dragon was in no hurry. It seemed content with letting him set the pace. Hiccup knew this was risky. A wild dragon that wasn't afraid of people was dangerous. Then again, any dragon was dangerous, whether it was afraid of people or not. But this dragon, of all creatures. . . .

Enemy. Danger. Storm dragon. Unholy offspring of lightning and death.

He let out a startled yelp as something warm and wet slid around the cut on his leg where the lion had tried to trip him. Bad. Bad. He shouldn't have let his attention wander like that. For all he knew, the dragon had saved him from getting eaten by the lion only to claim him as its own meal. And now—was it tasting him?

Hiccup looked at the dragon, who was now setting its sights on his shoulder, the landing site of a few more claw marks. It raised its head and stuck out its pink, slightly forked tongue, licking the wound gently.

Not tasting me, Hiccup thought in wonder, gasping, as the pain from both wounds vanished instantaneously, the bleeding stopped as if the flow had hit a wall. Healing me.

Magic had always been nothing more than a saying to the Berkians, a strange force used to explain things not understood. But right now it felt as real as the trees standing around him, as real as the balance between the constant threat of Magnus and the relief of Gobber's forge. Did the Night Fury possess some form of magic? Or was it just a natural ability honed over time from years of survival?

Either way, the dragon seemed to not want to harm him. It made a sort of humming sound when it saw the cuts mending themselves. Giving Hiccup one last mysterious look, the Night Fury snorted and spread its enormous wings, launching itself into the sky, quickly becoming a tiny black speck in the clouds.

Hiccup watched it until it disappeared, then he picked up the wood he'd collected and ran as fast as he could back to the village. By the time he got to the forge he was winded. But just before he got to the back door, he heard voices. Two of them, one raised in anger, the other calmer. Magnus and Gobber. It was hard to hear what they were arguing about through the door, but the gist of it was that Hiccup had been gone too long in Magnus' opinion and the jailer wanted to get a search party together to look for him. It was a simple conversation, but Magnus could argue with grass about being green just as fiercely as he could argue with an enemy tribe about treaty negotiations. It sounded like he was actually standing in the smithy, which meant that the safe zone was now the danger zone. Hiccup was stuck.

"Magnus, the only reason Hiccup's not here," Gobber explained, "is that I ran out of wood to fuel the forge and I had him go get some more. He'll be back soon."

"He'd better be," Magnus growled. "Or you'll have more to worry about than—"

He never finished the sentence because that was when Hiccup chose to slip in through the back door, which wasn't easy considering the pile of wood in his arms. It was less conspicuous if he reappeared in the middle of the sentence like he hadn't been eavesdropping.

"Where have you been?" the jailer demanded, even though the answer was right in front of him. His glare was more intense than usual.

"Getting wood for the forge. The supply was low," Hiccup responded, his voice quieter than he expected. He hated that Magnus had him cowed so, but he just couldn't fight thirteen years of paranoia and terror.

Magnus scowled, obviously disgruntled at the fact that he couldn't pin Hiccup down on something. He had just reached the threshold of the front door when Gobber asked, "Hiccup, what happened to your tunic?" Magnus gave no sign of notice as the blacksmith crossed to his apprentice and fingered the torn fabric at the shoulder. Hiccup looked down and was stunned to see that, where he expected to find the still-healing claw marks from the mountain lion, there was instead untouched, perfectly healthy skin. He rubbed at the spot where the cuts had been, but it wasn't even tender.

What the heck did that dragon do to me?

Hiccup related his encounter with the lion, the dragon, and near death. By the time he was done, Gobber's eyes were as wide as saucers and Magnus had slowly crept back into the smithy, eerily silent until Hiccup got to the part about the dragon flying off.

"What was it?" the jailer asked. When Hiccup told him, his face turned an alarming shade of red. "And you just let the rarest creature known to man fly away?!"

"The only weapon I had was stuck in the tree, and it's not like I could've wrestled it to death," Hiccup shot back. "All I was doing was trying not to get eaten, and at the time, that included letting the dragon get away. It would've killed me otherwise."

Something in Magnus' expression hinted that the prospect of Hiccup dying wasn't that big of a tragedy, at least for him.

"We'll talk about this later," the jailer said, his glare cutting through Hiccup like a hot knife on butter. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out.

Gobber and Hiccup exchanged a worried look, waiting until Magnus was well and truly gone to speak. "I think you're going to stay here for a while," Gobber murmured. He couldn't protect Hiccup from Magnus, not in the way he wanted to, but he could at least delay the inevitable.

Hiccup nodded, and they went back to the forge. But despite his best efforts to relax, to lose himself in the work, he couldn't. All throughout the day, his insides were clenching at the thought, the knowledge, of what Magnus meant. He was already angry about the rebellion, but adding a lost Night Fury on top of that?

This was going to be bad.

***

Deep within the woods, the Night Fury paused by the creek to have a drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the ripples in the water and the little tadpoles fluttering about in the mud. Some of them were starting to turn, while others were just now breaking out of their eggs.

His thirst satisfied, he raised his head, inhaled, and let the wind sing through his body. His wings quivered in response, and he hummed, pleased by the feeling. A bug zipped by and he flicked an ear to warn it off.

Snap.

The dragon whirled around toward the sound, ears straining to make out what had disturbed the peaceful quiet. He watched the area where the sound had come from for even the slightest movement, but all he saw was the waving of tree branches in the wind. He sniffed the air for some sign of danger. Nothing. All was quiet. Too quiet. The birds didn't sing, the squirrels didn't chatter. Even the breeze was gone. It was as if the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting.

It could only be one thing.

A wild yell erupted from behind him. The Night Fury whirled around, responding to the intruder with a war cry of his own. It was a Viking, a man. His frame was broad, his sword held high, his face alight with the focus and bitter joy of battle. But this wasn't just any Viking.

It was Magnus.

This man was truly a monster from another world. He'd slain hundreds of dragons before, and would continue to do so until he dropped dead himself. Whispers in the night claimed that he was possessed, that he had the strength of a bear, that he sometimes drank the blood of his prey. He'd found his way to at least three different hatching grounds, killing the adults with swift ruthlessness. The hatchlings, he dealt with differently. Those born of the sky and earth, he drowned. Those of the sea, he burned. When the slaughter was finally done, none were left alive. And while the dragons mistrusted and disliked all Vikings in general, they loathed Magnus with such a deadly, blistering venom that cannot be formed into words. A venom that was further strengthened by the fact that Magnus could control the mind of any dragon that came too close, chaining their free spirit, turning them into violent killers against their will.

The Night Fury didn't waste time with the scream of rage fighting to be released. He shot out a blast of fire at Magnus' sword arm, but he ducked and rolled out of the way. The dragon flapped his wings, rising into the air to make a break for the sky, but Magnus got to his feet and grabbed his tail, holding it against a large rock and slicing his blade into one of the tail fins.

The Night Fury hissed, fighting his way through the pain and pumped his wings harder, harder, harder, to get away. But as he struggled, he began to sink. He fought to urge to turn and look at it; there was no time to assess the damage now.

He allowed Magnus to yank him back down to the ground. As he fell, he angled his body so that he was almost diving straight at Magnus, teeth first. When he was almost upon him, Magnus tipped his sword sideways. The dragon shut his eyes. He couldn't use his fire now; he was too close to the impact zone and thus risked injuring himself in the process. There was no way to avoid the wound that was coming. All he could do was ensure that it wouldn't be a fatal one.

As the dragon and the Viking tumbled to the ground, the sword sank deep into the Night Fury's shoulder. His scream was involuntary. He shook his head, trying to get past the fact that his leg felt like it had exploded and that his blood was quickly pooling underneath him.

Magnus' cruel laugh came from somewhere above him. Strange. He didn't remember falling.

He heard the sword being sheathed, felt a heavy boot on his neck and thick leather straps on his face, clamping his mouth shut. He opened his eyes, finding himself staring directly into Magnus' evil gaze. Hatred boiled inside him and he snarled, Go ahead, kill me. I refuse to be your slave anymore.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Night Fury. Not yet, anyway. For now, you're much more valuable to me alive than dead," Magnus said, his voice surrounding the dragon in a hypnotic, inhuman rumble that made the Night Fury's head ache. "I ordered you to kill the boy, set everything up so you would succeed. I thought that you, of all dragons, should have been able to get rid of one small, useless boy for me. Violence comes naturally to you, after all."

I'm no killer, the Night Fury hissed defiantly. And I've no quarrel with a human youngling. What did he ever do to you, anyway?

"That boy is the only thing standing between me and the throne, you wretched beast!" Magnus roared angrily. "I've come too far to let anything stop me now, be it that pathetic excuse for a Viking down in the village or a dragon."

You cannot stop what is coming, Magnus, the Night Fury warned. Your power is fading, whether you like it or not. And when it does, you will be destroyed.

With a wordless bellow of rage, Magnus took his blade and made several slashes in the dragon's wings, provoking ear-splitting shrieks of pain that would have shaken the most battle-hardened Viking to his bones.

Magnus wiped his sword clean on the Night Fury's skin, staring him down again. "For your insolence, I think I'm going to leave you here while I get the dogs and a proper search party back at the village. Then I'm going to come back. By then, you'll have healed yourself enough to fight me again. But I'll have you at my mercy eventually. And I think I'll make you watch when I let the dogs have their dinner tonight."

He decided, officially, that Magnus really was possessed.

The psychopath continued. "When the dogs are done with you, I'll take your head and hang it in the Great Hall for all to see." He paused and raked his gaze over his prisoner. "You have just hours left, dragon. I hope you enjoy them as much as I will."

He didn't know what Magnus was talking about. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding. He just wanted it to stop.

The Viking got up and started to walk away. Then he paused by the dragon's tail, unsheathing his sword. "I almost forgot. Can't have you hogging all the advantages, can we? But I can take care of that for you."

Horror shot through the dragon's veins, making his blood run cold, and he screamed, No!

Magnus didn't answer. He whisked the sword down, cutting off the left tail fin.

It was too much, too much at once. A feeling so intense that there wasn't even any pain, just a numbing pressure that built upon itself until the Night Fury realized that he was passing out. But as the pain began to register, he thought he heard Magnus hiss one last thing.

"New rule: this is what happens to the disobedient."

***

Hiccup sat in the basement, hugging his knees. Clearly, when Magnus had said, "We'll talk about this later", what he really meant was, "You're grounded".

Which translated directly into getting chained up in the basement. And getting just one meal a day. And also being trapped in Magnus' house for the entire week.

But strangely, that had been it. No pulling hair. No hitting, kicking, or even yelling. Nothing Hiccup expected. And if that wasn't weird enough, Magnus just walked out. Grabbed his helmet and his sword and left. Hiccup didn't know what to make of it.

"Hiccup!" whispered a voice in the far corner.

"Astrid?" He crawled over to where he thought she was and found that by removing one of the small stones in the foundation, there was a small hole letting in a shaft of evening light. It was big enough so they could see each other, but not quite big enough to get their hands through.

"Are you alright?" Astrid asked. She sounded really worried.

"Yes," he said. "I'm just grounded. He didn't do anything."

"Yet," Astrid added mournfully. She paused before resting her forehead against the rock, sighing. "I hate this. I really, really hate this."

"You're preaching to the choir here," Hiccup attempted to joke, and was rewarded with a tiny smile. But even that quickly faded under the circumstances. He tried again. "Hey, I'll be okay. It's not like I'm dying or anything. One week. That's it. And then things'll be back to normal."

"How come you're the optimistic one and I'm the one worrying my brains out?" Astrid asked, half to him and half to herself.

"Because I've weathered this storm before?" Hiccup guessed. "I don't know."

"You shouldn't have to, though," she said softly. They were quiet for a moment before she broke the silence. "Can I ask you one thing?"

When Hiccup nodded, she continued. "I heard what you were telling Magnus and Gobber. Did you really see a Night Fury?" The last two words came out in nothing more than an awed whisper, as if saying them any louder would disturb the magic hidden within.

Hiccup grinned, seeing the moment in hindsight and appreciating the dragon's beauty more and more. "Yes."

"I need details!" Astrid squealed as quietly as she could manage, slapping her hand on the rock for emphasis. Hiccup had a feeling that if the wall wasn't there, she'd be grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth until his brain felt like a slushie. The thing about getting beat up by Astrid was that she meant it all in love. She didn't mean to hurt him, in fact she rarely actually did—she was just really strong. "And go slowly. What did it look like?"

"It was black, all over. Four legs, short neck. Huge wings. Two fins at the front of the tail, and two more at the back—"

"Here." Astrid pushed a folded up piece of paper and a pencil through the hole. "Draw it."

Hiccup quickly sketched out the dragon in a few poses. First, a battle pose with the lion, with fire coming out of its mouth. Then a front view with its tail curled around its paws, the way Hiccup had seen it before. And then an overhead view of the whole dragon. He did some guessing on that one.

He handed the paper back to Astrid, who immediately gasped in amazement. "Hiccup, this is incredible!"

Hiccup smiled. "Glad you like it."

Astrid opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the squawking of a raven. She whipped her head around toward the sound, then turned back to Hiccup. "That's the signal. I have to go." She pushed something through the hole into his hands, pausing when their fingers touched briefly. Then she got up and replaced the rock, hurrying away.

Hiccup unwrapped her gift and his mouth instantly watered at the sight of the bread and meat in the package. His stomach growled and he wanted to dive into the food right then and there, but he had a feeling he knew what that raven signal was: Magnus was coming home. Dinner would have to wait until he was asleep.

The door opened. Hiccup rewrapped the cloth and hid it underneath his pallet. He heard the muffled sounds of Magnus moving around upstairs and tried to be as still as possible, even though it wasn't really necessary. He prayed that Magnus would stay upstairs for the rest of the night.

Of course, that was too much to ask for. The stairs creaked, one by one. Hiccup sighed involuntarily. Just my luck.

Magnus stood at the foot of the staircase, eyeing him suspiciously. That was normal. What was not normal was what he was holding in his right hand. Hiccup didn't know what the object was, but it was large and black. The same black as the Night Fury. . . . A horrible feeling came over him suddenly, but he pushed it down, not wanting to show emotion in front of Magnus. And besides, maybe it was something else entirely. A piece of metal, wood, or leather designed to look like what he thought it was.

"I found your dragon friend," the jailer stated. Hiccup decided not to believe him. "It's not my friend," he replied. "All it did was save me from the lion and heal me. Then it flew away."

"And why would a strange dragon do that for someone it's never met before?" Magnus retorted. "Of course it's your friend . . . or, at least, it was."

Hiccup's face must have shown his confusion, because the jailer continued. "For the supposedly smartest creature in the world, it was fairly easy to sneak up on. Dumb thing led me straight to a nest. Mate and all. Even a couple hatchlings."

"Hatchlings?" Hiccup echoed, amazed in spite of himself. What he wouldn't have given to see that! Then his thoughts darkened as he realized what Magnus was getting at. The dragon who had saved him, its mate, and the hatchlings, were dead.

An adult dragon being hunted was one thing. But baby dragons who couldn't even fly or breathe fire—it was a complete waste. And with Night Furies already so rare to begin with—what if those hatchlings were the last of their kind?

He just killed them.

Stunned, Hiccup said the only thing he could think of that might disprove this. "I don't believe you."

Magnus slapped him hard across the face, adding in a boot to the stomach for good measure. Hiccup curled up into a ball and coughed.

"Fine, then. If you won't believe me, believe your own eyes." He threw the strange object down to the floor and Hiccup finally got a good look at it.

It was a Night Fury's tail fin, covered in dragon blood, the heat of which Hiccup could clearly feel without even moving a muscle. Bile rose up in his throat and he fought the sudden nausea that threatened to overcome him, closing his eyes to block out the awful sight.

Okay. Remember when I told you that there was a part of Hiccup's mind that didn't react well to being bullied? Well, now was one of those times.

"You just left it to die, didn't you?" Hiccup asked, his voice bitter with anger. "You tortured it and then you left it to die."

Magnus' next kick came faster, harder than before. Hiccup felt a large, rough hand grab his throat, and then he started panicking because the hand was actually squeezing and he couldn't breathe. Magnus pulled him over to one side of the room and slammed his head into the wall over and over again. Finally, he loosened his grip and Hiccup dropped to the floor like a dead thing. His vision spun and blurred and his head felt like it had been split open. He gasped for air, his body shaking. Magnus continued to kick him, going on and on until Hiccup was pretty sure his ribs were broken.

"Don't cross me, boy," the jailer growled. "I do what I like, when I like, and if you know what's best for you, you won't interfere."

You're a monster! Hiccup wanted to shout, but he couldn't quite catch his breath enough to get the words out. From his position on the floor, he looked up without moving his head and watched Magnus turn and march up the stairs. The basement door was shut and locked.

Hiccup breathed slowly, carefully, trying to assess the damage and also trying to not throw up. Then the bloodied tail fin came back into focus and his willpower gave out.