𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 ━ how to train your dragon¹

3│BOY MEETS DRAGON

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❛ sᴛᴏʀᴍʙᴏʀɴ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʙᴏʏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛs ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ꒱


❝ TO HIM, IT'S A GIFT.
IT'D BE RUDE TO REFUSE IT. ❞

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It has been said that Hiccup has made a lot— a lot— of mistakes. The most recent include the destruction of the sea-stairs, his inability to kill the Night Fury and how he couldn't make his father just listen to him. He probably made a dozen more errors during his first day of dragon training, but thankfully that was all over (for now.)

He'd escaped into the forest at the first chance he got, slipping away from the other teens as they groaned about 'learning on the job.' The cool solitude of the woodland helped to soothe his rattled nerves as his boots scuffed along the dirt trail, lost in thought about Gobber's words. Remember, a dragon will always, always go for the kill.

His foot knocked against a loose stone on the path, causing him to look down. Hiccup bent and picked up the rounder-than-normal rock that lay in the clearing. The rope from his bola had been taken away and the unknown question of who made his skin crawl with unease. He didn't want to think about what would happen if one of the Vikings from Berk had come across the Night Fury. Pushing that unpleasant thought aside, he rolled the stone over in his palm as he murmured, "so. . . why didn't you?"

He followed the dragon's path to where boulders came together to form a small opening, beyond which a peaceful cove could be seen. Birds flew in the dappled sunlight, completely at ease in their natural surroundings. There was no sign of a possibly dangerous dragon anywhere.

The brunet sighed with disappointment. "Well, this was stupid."

Just as he was about to turn back, his gaze caught sight of a trail of loose, black scales that lead over the rock and down to the grassy area below. As he picked one up to examine it more closely, the owner of the scales swooped past him with a loud cry, causing him to gasp in shock. As he fell backwards in surprise, he saw the dragon's tail whip by him. The Night Fury scrabbled at the rocks before he admitted defeat and glided over the water. The dragon landed with a heavy thump and a frustrated growl.

After observing it for a little while longer— and dropping his pencil, which was another mistake to add to the list— he returned to the Great Hall more confused than before.

🏹🏹🏹

"Is this some kind of joke to you? Our parents' war is about to become ours. Figure out which side you're on."

Astrid's words rang in his head as he made his way back to the increasingly familiar clearing. On one hand, they had stung and hurt his feelings more than he'd expected— more than he'd like them to. On the other, she'd talked to him! She'd actually acknowledged his existence and had probably said more things in those angry sentences than the entire time he'd known her. Not to mention the furious look in her blue eyes only made her more fearsome and beautiful, in his opinion.

What he needed was clarity. He knew the Viking side of the story: kill or be killed; dragons are the enemy, no questions asked. What he didn't know was how the dragons felt about the feud— if it was two-sided or not. Maybe the dragons were only fighting to protect themselves (and that thought was almost more scary than the truth he'd known his entire life.) (Un)fortunately, the only dragon he had access to answer his questions even remotely was the Night Fury he'd downed a few nights ago.