Hiccup's Perspective
Barf and Belch slithered across the arena like twin serpents testing the air, their long necks weaving lazily as they observed the trembling line of teens before them.
Snorting smoke and muttering to each other in guttural growls, the two heads blinked — once, then twice — before scanning their potential victims.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut immediately squared their stances, trying to look brave. Fishlegs took an instinctive step back. Snotlout puffed his chest out so hard I thought his ribs might snap.
But the Zippleback didn't lunge.
Didn't hiss.
Didn't even growl.
Instead... they tilted both heads slightly.
Then both pairs of reptilian eyes turned away — and passed over Astrid.
Completely.
Not a blink. Not a twitch. Not even a sniff of interest.
The dragon skipped her like she didn't exist.
She didn't flinch or shift.
She didn't puff up her pride or tighten her grip on her axe.
No — Astrid simply turned... and walked.
Casually. Boldly. Without permission.
She strolled right across the arena floor and sat down by the opposite gate, arms resting on her knees, chin tilted back toward the sky like this was just another boring drill she didn't care about anymore.
The teens watched her in confusion.
The crowd murmured.
Gobber looked ready to bark something at her again — but one look at the still simmering rage in her eyes shut him up fast.
I watched her closely.
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
But just before she looked away... her eyes locked with mine.
Not a glare. Not a challenge.
Longing.
Real longing.
I knew that look.
But I had other things to handle right now.
The Zippleback had shifted directions — now focusing on the rest of the line.
From the stands, villagers leaned forward, their breath catching.
"Look at the size of it!"
"Watch out—!"
"Here it comes!"
To them, this was another savage beast.
Another monster to kill before it could do the same.
Idiots.
All of them.
I watched closely, arms folded, jaw tight.
Barf and Belch weren't trying to attack.
They were playing.
One head darted close to Snotlout's side — close enough to make him yelp and dive behind Ruffnut. The other coiled low to the ground and hissed up at Fishlegs like a kitten stalking a bug.
They weren't striking. They weren't hunting.
They were testing reactions. Poking.
Bored.
I knew that kind of energy.
They didn't want to kill.
They wanted to play.
But Berk didn't see that.
Of course they didn't.
To them, a dragon opening its mouth meant danger.
To them, movement meant malice. Curiosity meant bloodlust.
The crowd began to shift into panic.
A woman in the stands screamed when one of the heads sneezed too close to Tuffnut's boot.
I clenched my fists at my sides, my knuckles whitening.
Stupid.
Blind.
Incompetent.
They couldn't see it. They couldn't feel it. They had no sense for dragon behavior, no instinct, no understanding.
And they had the audacity to call themselves warriors.
My hatred rose again like bile in my throat.
This place. These people.
If they had just listened—if they had looked past their own fears for even a second—
They could have trained these creatures.
Bonded with them.
Flown with them.
Instead?
They butchered them.
Slaughtered every dragon that twitched wrong.
Because they were too stupid to tell the difference between play and predation.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance at the wooden gate where the Nadder still waited behind thick timbers. The satchel of ointments sat neatly to the side, undisturbed.
She would be next.
And when that time came, I would be ready.
Astrid's defiance. The Zippleback's confusion. The village's hysteria.
It was all just proof.
Proof that Berk didn't deserve the world it lived in.
But I would fix that.
One broken truth at a time.
Freya's Perspective
I sat near the front row of the stone stands, legs swinging as I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees.
The cold rock didn't bother me.
The noise didn't distract me.
All I cared about... was the show.
The dragon with two heads — long necks and hissing jaws — was pacing around the arena, and the teens were clearly freaking out.
Ruffnut looked ready to scream.
Snotlout had already ducked behind someone twice.
Fishlegs was shaking like he'd swallowed a whole fish tail-first.
It. Was. Glorious.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Because laughing would've made the villagers look at me weird.
And I wasn't supposed to look weird.
I was supposed to look like a normal little girl.
But inside?
Inside I was gleeful.
Watching them squirm... panic... stumble over themselves just because a dragon got a little too close?
It was delicious.
Mama would've smiled if she saw what I was feeling.
Papa might've smirked... but he wouldn't show it.
And I was learning that part too.
Hide the claws behind the soft smile.
Hide the fire behind your eyes.
Let the world see a girl — while you're really a dragon.
I kept my face calm, curious, maybe a little wide-eyed — like all the other villagers watching from the stands.
But inside, I was cheering the dragon on.
Step closer... snap at them... make Snotlout trip again—YES—
My claws itched to come out.
But I kept them tucked in.
Just like Papa taught me.
As the dragon circled, I let my eyes drift toward him — my father, standing cool and silent near the stone wall.
He didn't even move.
He didn't need to.
Just his presence made the air feel heavier, sharper.
And everyone felt it.
My heart swelled a little. That's my Papa...
Then something else caught my eye.
High above the arena — tucked into the shadows near the ledges — was a figure I knew well.
Mama.
She crouched in silence, perfectly still, watching everything.
But she wasn't watching the dragon.
She was watching her.
The blonde one. The one called Astrid.
Mama's emerald eyes were locked onto her with an intensity that made even me sit up straighter.
Her head didn't move. Her gaze didn't twitch.
But I knew that look.
The predator look.
I frowned slightly.
Why was Mama looking at her like that?
Astrid wasn't even fighting. She was just... sitting by the gates like none of this mattered. Like she didn't care.
And she kept glancing at Papa.
I narrowed my eyes.
Oh.
That's why.
She was looking at him.
I didn't understand everything yet — not like Papa and Mama did — but I wasn't stupid.
It seemed that Mama didn't like it when others looked at Papa like that.
I tilted my head and looked back at Astrid.
She didn't look scared.
She didn't look proud either.
She looked... angry. But not at Papa.
Maybe she hated the village too.
That was... interesting.
But not enough to distract me from the fun down below.
The twin-headed dragon was still weaving through the group, and now Tuffnut had fallen over trying to impress it with a spear spin.
The left head flinched from the movement, clearly startled — but then growled and shoved its other head in protest, like it was annoyed at the noise.
I smirked behind my hand.
They're not attacking. They're just messing around.
And nobody knew.
Nobody saw it except Papa. Mama and me.
I felt the pride curl up in my chest like a warm ember.
He always saw what no one else could.
That's what made him an Alpha like mama said.
And that's what he was teaching me.
The world only saw a harmless girl on a stone bench.
But inside?
Inside I was Mama's little fang.
Papa's hatchling.
And one day...
They'd see.
Hiccup's Perspective
Barf and Belch were losing interest.
The teens had offered nothing but clumsy footwork, screaming, and confusion.
It wasn't even fear anymore—it was boredom.
One head yawned, wide-mouthed and theatrical.
The other blew a puff of smoke at Snotlout just to make him stumble backward again.
They weren't going to attack. They weren't going to hurt anyone.
They were just done.
And I understood that feeling all too well.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, studying the way the left head kept nudging the right — the way they circled each other like a bored pair of brothers stuck in a sandbox. Beneath the scales, there was no aggression in their steps. Just unspent energy. Aimless chaos. Instinct looking for direction.
And then I felt it.
The pull.
The subtle click inside my mind that marked the moment I made a decision.
You two are mine now.
Not because they were useful.
But because they were perfect.
A little chaos. A little madness. A lot of heart.
Zipplebacks were strange beasts — playful, over-the-top, full of movement and noise.
But what most people didn't know was this:
They were soft at their core.
Gentle with the small.
Protective of anything young or alone.
They would fight to the death for a hatchling that needed them — even if it wasn't theirs.
Just like Grounkles, I thought. But with more fire and a lot more chaos.
Exactly the kind of guardians my nest would need.
And Freya?
She'd adore them.
A pair of unpredictable, noisy, fanged guardians who loved games and adored hatchlings?
They'd take to her like she was their own.
But first... I had to earn them.
And I already knew how.
The best way to gain a Zippleback's trust wasn't through force.
It was through fun.
You had to play with them. Dance with them. Give them something real.
It had been a while since I last pretended to fight a dragon. Usually my fun came from killing, flaying, or watching people squirm.
But this?
This would be different.
This would be innocent.
And if I was being honest...
It sounded fun.
A low smirk curved my lips as I stepped forward.
The sound of my boots hitting the dirt echoed through the arena like thunder.
Dozens of heads turned.
The crowd stiffened.
Gobber straightened.
Even Astrid's posture shifted slightly from where she sat at the gate.
But none of that mattered.
Because the moment I stepped off the wall, they noticed.
Barf stopped mid-hiss.
Belch tilted his head, blinking once... then twice.
Both heads turned toward me in perfect sync.
I took slow, deliberate steps toward the center of the arena, eyes fixed on the twin-headed dragon now watching me with blatant curiosity.
I didn't need weapons. I didn't bring claws.
That was fine.
Because I wasn't here to kill them.
Not this time.
This time, I just wanted to have some fun.
I came to a stop just a few feet in front of the Zippleback.
Two heads, two minds, one body. Their tails coiled behind them like spring-loaded whips, nostrils flaring as they sniffed the air around me.
We stared at one another.
They didn't move.
Neither did I.
It was a standoff — but not the kind filled with hate or threat.
No.
This was curiosity.
Recognition.
I let my thoughts go still, centering myself. And then — for the first time since arriving in this world — I reached out. Not with my hands.
With my mind.
Come on, I murmured silently. Let's try something new...
I didn't force it. Didn't claw into their consciousness. I extended a thread — gentle, subtle, respectful — and waited.
One beat.
Two.
Then—click.
The world shifted. Just slightly.
Two distinct voices answered back, tangled together like a playful argument.
Left Head: What are you? Smells like dragon. Looks like human.
Right Head: Are we playing? Are we fighting? He's strange. I like strange!
I smirked, responding mentally.
"Name's Hiccup. I'm an Alpha. I look human right now — but that's just the shell. Inside, I'm one of you. I'm hiding who I am from the ones watching us. For now."
Both heads blinked — once, twice — then nodded in unison.
Left Head: "Alpha... Not like the others.
Right Head: Let's play with Alpha! He smells fun!"
"Good," I replied. "Because I haven't played in a while. And I could use a break from blood."
I crouched low, my hands brushing the dirt. Then I lunged forward.
Not to strike.
To tackle.
With a playful growl, I slammed into their side and rolled us into a tumble of limbs, wings, and hissing laughter.
The crowd gasped.
I could hear Gobber's voice break in the distance.
Someone even screamed.
But I didn't care.
I was grinning.
The Zippleback twisted beneath me, both heads snarling and laughing at the same time. One tried to bite my cloak. The other tried to roll me. I ducked, spun, and flipped up onto their back — only to be flung off and land in the dirt.
I laughed.
Genuinely laughed.
Then I pounced again, pinning them both under my weight as they squirmed and flailed, their tails kicking up dust.
"Gotcha!" I laughed out loud this time. "Pinned you again!"
Both heads whined in defeat — theatrical and exaggerated, tails thudding against the ground like children denied a toy.
I stood slowly, dusting myself off.
They scrambled upright and — without hesitation — both bowed.
Low.
Humbled.
Acknowledging me not just as a playmate.
But as their Alpha.
I reached out and scratched behind both jaws, earning twin, pleased growls.
Then the left head suddenly licked my cheek, its tongue leaving a thick, sticky line up my face.
I snorted. "Alright, alright, I earned that."
The right head let out a soft growl of protest.
"He's still mad he lost," I said aloud, ruffling the scales at the base of his neck.
"Then," I added with a sly grin, "why don't you go blow off that frustration..."
I turned slowly to the frozen teens still lined up, mouths open, weapons slack.
"...on them."
Both dragon heads turned to look.
Then — they smirked.
If dragons could smirk, these two absolutely did.
The teens paled.
I didn't say a word. I just crossed my arms and stepped back, grinning.
From above, I could feel Luna's presence watching it all — her fury long gone, replaced with a deep, rich satisfaction.
She didn't see a dragon being tamed.
She saw me enjoying myself.
Not killing. Not manipulating. Not plotting.
Just playing.
And she saw what I already knew: this twin-headed menace was no pet.
It was family now.
A little unpredictable.
But useful.
Protective.
And by the look on its face?
An absolute menace when it came to chaos.
Exactly what we needed.