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❛ ᴋʜᴀʟᴇᴇsɪ. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚ ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❜ ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ 'ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇʀ
ᴇᴠᴇʀ' ᴀᴡᴀʀᴅ ɢᴏᴇs ᴛᴏ. . . ꒱
❝ WHO WANTS TO
HELP ME HIDE THE BODY? ❞
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To this day, Dany's dearest wish was to fly unhindered through the sky. For now, Drogon was the closest she would come to that dream— to hold herself aloft with wings (or, in this case, arms) spread and the wind in her hair. Of course, she loved feeling the warmth of her dragon's scales and his reassuring weight underneath her, but to fly on one's own was something else, she imagined, entirely.
Her mother's claims of her being more dragon than girl rang true especially in these moments where there was nothing between her and the clouds. There was no cold, no fear, no discomfort— only freedom. Even when she flew with her friends now, their loud bickering and senseless arguments couldn't take that away from her. In fact, they gave her something in return: the courage to do something that she'd never otherwise dared if she was flying alone.
Hiccup had been the one to encourage what he called "the trust fall," which was where the rider relied on their dragon to catch them before it was. . . well, too late. Not all of them were game for this (most notably Fishlegs), but Dany had been looking forward to trying it ever since he proposed the idea. While it was true that Drogon was not the fastest dragon, the bond between them was unmatched with any of the other riders; she was the only one who had known her dragon since birth. If the twins could coordinate their chaotic mess enough to save themselves from the fall, then surely Drogon could manage to catch her. So, even if her only form of solo flying was plummeting, she was willing to give it a try.
The Targaryen closed her eyes as she fell towards the ocean. Not out of fear, but to enjoy the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her at the thought of the water below. The wind whipped around her, tangling her hair into knots and flapping the skirt of her dress. She was weightless as she kept dropping down, down, down—
And then, just as she felt the coldness of the sea soak the ends of her hair, a sharp claw pinched at her ankle and then she being lifted up, up, up— back into the sky as Drogon huffed with the effort of keeping them airborne. He dropped her onto Toothless' back, where she settled herself behind Hiccup. (Because of his large size, Drogon could not glide underneath her to stop her fall, nor could he flip her onto his back once he'd caught her.) Her dragon looped around the riders in a graceful arc before he returned to his place in their usual flying arrangement.
The brunet turned around in his saddle to give her a pleased grin. "That was a close one— good job, Dany."
She felt her face warm a bit from the praise and focused her gaze on her fingers, which were fiddling with the ends of the fur on her vest. "Thanks, but Drogon's the one who should get the compliment. He's been getting better about his response time."
Now that she'd shown them how it was done, Hiccup indicated for Fishlegs to go next. "It's your turn. Jump."
"I don't wanna jump! I—"
"You have to believe she's gonna catch you. It's a trust exercise."
"I like to do my trusting on the ground, thank you very much."
Snotlout— ever ready to show off his "skills"— scoffed at the boy's trepidation. "Like this, chicken legs."
He let go of Hookfang's horns and allowed himself to fall toward the ocean. To no one's surprise, the Monstrous Nightmare continued to fly as if his rider was still on his back. It seemed as if he hadn't noticed Snotlout's disappearance at all. The twins exchanged a look. "So, should we mention something to Hookfang?"
"Let me sleep on it," Ruffnut replied, unbothered.
Astrid (as usual) was the one to take action as she shouted "hey!" to get the dragon's attention. She pointed in the direction of the falling boy. "Hookfang! Get him!"
Finally, Hookfang's eyes widened with realization and he dove to retrieve his rider. Snotlout continued to tumble in the air, prompting him to exclaim, "not feeling the trust here!"
The Monstrous Nightmare caught him just in time with his snout. Their momentum could not be slowed, however, and the pair crashed right into the roof of a lone house— the last house any of them wanted to be near with their dragons: Mildew's.
"Oh, something tells me we're gonna hear about this. . ." Hiccup groaned with annoyance.
🏹🏹🏹
"I'm sorry that you had to stay over on boot night," Astrid apologized as she and Dany made their way to the Hofferson's front door.
Sometimes, when she didn't want to go all the way home (especially when there was trouble brewing), the Targaryen would spend the night at her friend's house. The two girls would stay up late and the Hofferson would share town gossip or village tales while Dany would talk about dragons. Right now, they were each holding a pair of boots that came from her parents. The blonde shrugged in response. "It's alright— that just means there's one less pair of boots for you to take out."
"Thanks, Dany," she said gratefully. "You didn't have to, you know."
As Astrid opened the door to toss them out, Daenerys gave her an amused smile. "What are friends for except for helping take out smelly boots? Besides, we don't have boot night at home."
The other girl laughed as she firmly shut the door against the terrible odor. "Really? How do you fight the smell, then?"
Dany gestured to her bare feet and wiggled her toes against the smooth, wood planks that made up the floor. "Well, I don't really wear shoes unless I have to, so that kind of cuts down on the stink factor— and I think we wash our feet more than the average Viking."
"Huh," Astrid said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should be taking notes from you guys— this is definitely my least favorite chore."
"Yours and everyone else's," she agreed.
The blonde wiped her hands on her shirt as they walked away from the entrance. "Right. Now that that's done, what should we do?" Her expression lit up with an idea. "Oooh! I know! We could tell horror stories!" She cast a sly look in Daenerys' direction. "I could tell you about my favorite one— the soul-stealing demons with bone-white hair and haunting, violet eyes."
Dany grimaced at her suggestion. "I don't think I'll like that story very much."
"Oh, come on, it's a Berk classic!" Astrid exclaimed, grabbing her arm to pull her friend towards her room. "Besides, if you let me tell that story, I'll let you talk about dragons and I'll actually listen."
The offer was too good to refuse; usually, the only time Astrid allowed her "dragon-talk" was after dinner as the girls were going to bed so she could fall asleep to Dany's "droning" (Astrid's words, not hers.) "Ugh," she groaned. "Fine."
🏹🏹🏹
Dany was, by habit, an early riser. Luckily Astrid was too, and the girls planned on going for a morning ride together. The Targaryen found it interesting to fly with different types of dragons to see how Drogon acted around them. To Toothless, he was a big brother. To Viserion and Rhaegal, he was sort of similar, but also acted more playfully with them. She wasn't sure how he'd respond to Stormfly and she was curious to find out. (She was also hoping to cajole the other girl into wearing a flower crown— she thought that Astrid would look very pretty in one, but the Hofferson was usually too fierce when surrounded by others to even broach the subject.)
However, before they could even get to the door, Astrid's parents stood in the entrance, wearing confused expressions. "Girls," her mother, Brenda, began carefully. "What exactly happened when you put our boots out last night?"
The blondes shared a similarly puzzled look as Astrid explained, "we. . . just put them out on the front step, like always. Why?"
"They're not there anymore," her father, Hoefer, answered.
They pushed past the older Vikings to see for themselves, and it was clear that the boots were not where they'd been placed the night before. Dany frowned at the odd circumstance. "Do days in Berk always start this oddly?"
"Some more than others," Astrid allowed with a shake of her head. "But this is strange. Who'd want to steal stinky, smelly boots?"
"Speak for yourself," Hoefer scoffed teasingly. "My boots are top-notch! Handcrafted from the finest leather, they develop a characterful aroma that only true experts appreciate."
Astrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow, considering how they'd smelled the night before. "Oh, really? I suppose it must be an acquired taste then."
Hoefer chuckled. "Exactly! It takes a discerning nose to fully appreciate the essence of a hard week's work."
Dany smiled at her friend's cheerful banter with her father; Astrid was much. . . gentler when she was comfortable in her surroundings. But, she also understood why the Hofferson put on a front— the boys they hung out with (minus Hiccup and Fishlegs) wouldn't take her seriously if she was, well, nice. That was why Tuffnut and Snotlout wouldn't leave her, Dany, alone— she wasn't confident enough to tell them to respect her personal space, but at least they listened when Astrid did.
But, despite the Hofferson's rather jovial response to their discovery, not everyone reacted with such lightheartedness— and no one took it worse than Mildew. His presence was announced by two things before anyone actually saw him: the thump of his walking cane on the ground, and his smell (which was arguably worse than all of Berk's boots combined.) His tone— as usual— was oily and smug at the sight of the concerned Vikings.
"All I know," he began craftily, "is that they left a mighty big footprint—"
He trailed off and pointed his staff towards a heap of snow. Dany watched him suspiciously; he was easily her least favorite person in Berk— she'd even rather hang out with Snotlout or the twins (both, at the same time) than be around him for a second. She found it odd that, for someone who knew the annoyance of travelling long distances, he would do so easily, even without his own shoes. And not only that, but he seemed to know exactly where the clue was to point it out, which would be odd for someone who didn't spend a lot of time in town. She was glad, in any case, that she'd instructed Drogon to stay with Stormfly; she didn't need Mildew getting on her dragon.
"Oh!" Fishlegs exclaimed brightly. He'd moved closer to the print and was now bouncing on his toes with the excitement of recognizing it. "Those are Hideous Zippleback tracks— you can tell by the half-moon shaped arches," he scoffed. "That's dragon 101, guys. I don't gotta fill you in on that."
Hiccup wasn't so easily convinced, but he acknowledged the other boy's input. "So a dragon walked through here— a Zippleback according to my friend, Fishlegs. But that doesn't mean he stole everyone's boots."
"Well," Mildew said evenly, "there's just one way to find out: follow the footprints."
Dany crossed her arms, unable to hold back the scoff that escaped her lips. "Really? You think a Hideous Zippleback— a very large dragon with two heads that can never agree on anything, mind you— would be coordinated enough to take all the boots in the entire village in the course of one night without being heard by anyone? Trust me, they're not subtle."
The old man glared at her with mean, narrowed eyes. "I wouldn't be so sure, girl. The evidence is stacked against you. Dragons are dragons— troublemakers, all of them."
He wouldn't entertain anymore of their arguments and turned to follow the trail, regardless of what they had to say.
🏹🏹🏹
Unfortunately, Mildew's words proved to be true as the path led straight to the dragon training academy. Barf and Belch slept peacefully underneath the large pile of boots that had accumulated on top of them— something that Dany thought was strange. Dragons weren't known for sleeping underneath things; this looked to be heaped on top of them by other hands. . . All the dragons she knew slept on things; Toothless used his fire to heat up a patch of ground, Drogon usually slept on a nest of bones from the animals he'd eaten (as gross as that was), Rhaegal gathered leaves. . . She was growing more and more skeptical of how easily all of this was coming together, and Mildew seemed to be leading the chase.
The proof was certainly incriminating for a casual observer, at least. It was evident in Stoick's angry sigh at the sight of the dragon's obvious role in the supposed heist. Hiccup, sensing his father's irritation, was quick to speak up in defense of the dragons. "So there's a bunch of boots piled around a Zippleback? That doesn't mean—"
His efforts were futile as the chief held up a boot with a hole chewed through the toe and a tear across the back, causing the boy's shoulders to slump with defeat. "Okay, fine. He took the boots."
The surrounding Vikings were very displeased with the scene as they uttered complaints along the lines of, "how are we supposed to do any work in this weather without our boots?" and "this is outrageous!"
Mildew, of course, was quick to take advantage of their discontent. "How long until something is done about these creatures, Stoick? How much more can we stand?"
As the villagers raised their voices in agreement, Dany's eyes narrowed furiously at the old man. "We? You're the only one who seems to have a problem here. If you're so worried about the cold, how'd you like burn alive by Drogon's flame?"
"Dany, no," Hiccup said, quietly but firmly. He put an arm out to keep her from advancing on the older Viking— not that she'd want to get anywhere near that rotten stink bag. "That's just going to rile him up more."
Although she would have liked to use her word to command her dragon's fire and watch Mildew burn before she danced on his ashes, she pressed her lips into a thin line. The blonde settled for glaring at him angrily instead, wishing that looks could kill. Gobber stepped forward with a loud scoff that broke the increasing tension. "Listen to yourselves. . . 'My feet are cold!' You're Vikings! Everything is cold! I'll fix your boots for you. You'll be back to work in no time."
"That's it? No consequence for these dragons?"
The Targaryen wasn't surprised by Mildew's insistence; it only made her more confident that he was behind this whole endeavor. Even Stoick's patience was being tested by the man's determination to incriminate the dragons. He could barely hide his exasperated tone as he replied, "they took our boots, Mildew. The world isn't coming to an end."
"Oh, don't be so sure," the old Viking said tauntingly. "Dragons are wild beasts. There's no telling what else they'll do behind our sleeping backs."
Hiccup glared at the older man. "They don't destroy things on purpose!" He relented after a moment as he admitted, "but you do have a point, Mildew."
The brunet winced at Dany's look of. . . betrayal that he would ever side with someone like Mildew. He kept talking, hoping that she would understand what he meant. "They are wild animals, and they need us to keep an eye on them. And rest assured, we will do just that. Will you get out of there?"
The last part was hissed at Barf and Belch, who were still sleeping under the boots. The Zippleback lumbered away, but they left something in their wake— prints that both teens noticed were far deeper than the ones that had been found in town. It was also at this time that Hiccup realized his arm was still held out in front of Dany, and he dropped it quickly as his face turned a bit red. "Uh, s-sorry."
She kept her gaze studiously on her bare feet (which were not because of lost boots) and pretended to not have noticed him even though a faint, shy smile curled on her lips.
🏹🏹🏹
"We're going on night patrol," Hiccup announced later that afternoon when everything had settled back down again. They'd regrouped at their usual watchtower location to hear the boy's plan. However, none of them were particularly thrilled at the idea— except for Tuffnut, who chimed in with his customary misguided enthusiasm.
"Night patrol? I love it! What is it?"
Dany fiddled with the ends of the fur on her vest as she stood quietly next to Astrid, who was watching the boys with her arms crossed. The brunet stared at the other boy with disbelief as he explained slowly, "it's where we patrol. . . at night. . . to keep an eye on the dragons, to make sure they don't get blamed for anything else."
Fishlegs raised his hand as he asked nervously, "have you cleared this with our parents?" His gaze dropped to where he played with his fingers anxiously. "Because some of us may not be allowed out after a certain hour."
Snotlout sidled up to him with a smirk. "Not allowed, or afraid?"
"Hey, things happen after dark," Fishlegs shot back, glaring at the other boy.
"Guys, we have to do this." Hiccup spoke firmly to prevent one of many possible arguments from breaking out. "You heard Mildew. He wants the dragons banished."
Ruffnut chimed in with, "permission to shoot first and ask questions later?"
For once, Dany was in agreement with Tuffnut, who added, "permission to skip the questions?"
"Yeah," the Targaryen agreed with unexpected venom in her tone, "if I see that horrid old man, he's going down. Who wants to help me hide the body?"
Hiccup sighed at their misplaced excitement. "We're just patrolling! Nobody is shooting anyone."
"I have a question," the blond asked as he raised his hand. "What's fun about that?"
"It's not supposed to be fun," Astrid replied. Her amusement was well disguised in her seriousness. "It's a Hiccup idea."
"Exactly." Hiccup took a moment to think about what she had just said. "What?"
He flushed as Dany giggled at his confused expression and was relieved when the group began to go their separate ways. The girl hesitated for a moment as she considered asking to do their patrol together, but the thought was unusually daunting because it had been awhile since it had been just the two of them. Before she could decide, however, Snotlout jumped in her way and leaned against the catapult's pillar in an attempt to look 'cool,' but his palms must have been sweaty since all he did was stumble, catching his balance just in time.
He gave the blonde another one of his attempts at a 'charming' smile as he said, "you know, babe, we could do night patrol together. That way if you get nervous you can hold my hand."
Dany— who became frozen with temporary, intense discomfort (or repulsion)— missed the way Hiccup stilled at the other boy's question, just as he was about to leave. He paused with one foot on the ladder as he pretended not to eavesdrop. The Targaryen's unease passed and she grimaced. "If I'm going to be holding anyone's hand, I'd rather it be Astrid's."
Since he was turned away from the girls (and yes, Snotlout was included in that), Hiccup allowed a pleased, almost elated to cross his face before he continued down to the ground. Astrid, who'd waited for Dany, looked thoroughly entertained. "I'm flattered, but how about I let you hold on to my axe instead?"
The blonde sent her a grateful smile as the shorter Viking tried to save himself. "O-okay. Well, maybe next time, then?"
🏹🏹🏹
Night patrol was as uneventful as everyone (except the twins) had expected. The dragons behaved themselves and were all accounted for, as far as everyone knew. In the end, Dany had spent the night alone as she walked through the village with Drogon; no one would mess with her when she had such a large dragon on her side, after all.
The next morning proved to be a different story. Apparently, their watch hadn't been vigilant enough and a dragon— or someone, Dany thought— had gotten into the Great Hall and trashed it. Generations-old tapestries hung in tatters from the ceiling. The huge, wood carvings of past chiefs had been knocked over with claw marks gauged in them. The floors and walls were in no better shape and bore signs of dragon talons as well. Vikings congregated around the destruction and muttered to themselves about the devastation, while Stoick studied the room with angry eyes.
"Who could have done such a thing?" the chief wondered aloud.
Fishlegs— who had been studying the marks on a nearby pillar— joined them with a bright expression on his face. "Well, it looks like a dragon to me."
His words were met with unfriendly glares as his friends tried to signal to him to shut up. Hiccup shot him a similar look as he said, "we don't know that it was a dragon for sure, Fishlegs."
"Sure we do," the blond carried on obliviously— even Dany had more tact in this situation. "These claw marks— it was obviously a Monstrous Nightmare. The spacing of the talons is dead on."
"Once again, thank you, Fishlegs," Hiccup deadpanned.
Fishlegs completely missed the boy's tone as he took it at face value. He merely grinned bashfully as he replied, "oh, thank you. It's just basic stuff."
"But how could this happen?" Astrid asked. "We had every dragon accounted for at all times. Right, guys?"
While the others nodded, Snotlout's expression became apprehensive. Using air quotes, he repeated the girl's words questioningly, "when you say at 'all times,' and 'every dragon,' what exactly do you mean?"
Dany shook her head and wondered if, maybe, she should have gone on patrol with Snotlout last night; at least Drogon would have kept Hookfang in line. Hiccup slapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation at his friend's carelessness. He took a deep breath to keep from exploding at the other boy. "Okay, what happened, Snotlout?"
"Well," he started defiantly, "I was detaining a suspect who wasn't showing sufficient respect to the sash." He jabbed a thumb at himself as he shot the blacksmith a pointed look.
Gobber scoffed. "I think I showed sufficient respect to a sash that says 'dumb.'"
Astrid groaned as their group was subjected to yet another jab. "We gotta change that name. . ."
Dany leaned towards her to murmur, "and that's why I elected not to wear it."
"Anyways," Snotlout continued, pointing a finger in the older man's direction, "as I was questioning said suspect, Hookfang may have— and I'm not saying he did— but it is possible he wandered off for a few. . ."
The twins chimed in with: "Seconds?"
"Minutes?"
". . .hours."
"Oh," Tuffnut grunted. "That's way longer than minutes."
They turned at the sound of the doors slamming open. Dany wasn't sure if the chill that accompanied this movement was from the morning air, or if it was from the man who stood framed by the entrance. As usual, Mildew had impeccable timing— a strange feat for a man who lived on the other side of Berk. He gasped, pretending to be shocked by the wreckage. "Oh, no, it's true. The Great Hall. . . so many memories. My three weddings, their three funerals. Oh, the funerals."
The Targaryen glowered at him from where she leaned against a pillar. Lowering her voice so he wouldn't hear (not that she cared, but Hiccup wouldn't like it), she whispered harshly to Astrid: "they probably killed themselves to get away from him."
The other girl hid a smile behind her hand. "I can't believe he got to marry three times. At least there's hope for Snotlout, right?"
They snickered as Gobber turned to the chief. "The dragons must have gone on a rampage. I hate to say it, Stoick, but—"
The tall man sighed as he agreed, "I know what has to be done."
Dany frowned at the thought of Mildew getting his way again. They had to be able to stop him somehow, to prove that he was the one behind all of this. She shared a glance with the blonde next to her, their previous mirth melting away to concern. Mildew's cane thumped against the ground as he inserted himself between the men. He spoke almost gleefully as he added, "so do I."
"Starting tonight, and every night, I want all the dragons put in the academy under lock-and-key."
Mildew wasn't pleased with this at all. "What? That's it? Look what they did!"
Hiccup frowned at the man's protest. "This just doesn't make any sense. A dragon wouldn't just come in here and destroy the place. I mean, none of the food was even touched."
"Yeah," the blonde agreed, unable to keep the smugness out of her voice. "And if it had been a Monstrous Nightmare, then I think you're forgetting a significant part of their being: when they get angry, they literally burst into flames. Do those walls look scorched to you?"
She flushed as everyone's attention turned to her. Her gaze quickly dropped to her bare feet where she curled her toes against the planks of the Great Hall. She felt Hiccup's eyes brighten when they landed on her as he realized the same thing. But, Stoick— as far as he'd come from the Targaryen-hating days before the Red Death— was reluctant to admit that her words held truth to them, especially when Mildew would keep up the argument until he got his way. So, he let out a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why dragons do what they do, but I'm not gonna let them do any more damage."
The brunet frowned as his father walked out of the Great Hall. He bowed his head as the other teens surrounded him, but he jerked up a second later at the touch on his arm. Dany had placed her hand briefly on the sleeve of his tunic as a show of support, taking it away before he'd even really registered what had happened. He felt his face heat up at the small, reassuring smile she gave him. Her eyes fell back to the floor and she tangled her fingers together.
A similar grin from the day before curled on his lips as he recalled the words she'd hurled at Snotlout: if I'm going to be holding anyone's hand, I'd rather it be Astrid's! But. . . she'd just broken her personal space rule for him. . . Something told him the differentiation was significant, but he had no idea what it meant.
🏹🏹🏹
The teens were unusually somber as they flew their dragons to the academy that night. Their dragons were no better as they shifted restlessly; not even Fishlegs' lullaby for Meatlug was enough to calm her.
"That usually works. Her whole bedtime routine is upset. She won't even lick my feet!" he complained as she turned away from him. "Thanks to—"
Snotlout pointed a warning finger in his direction. "Watch it, Fishlegs. At least my dragon doesn't need a lullaby and a blankie."
The twins frowned at him with uncharacteristic seriousness; Tuffnut stood next to his sister with his arms crossed as she glared at the shorter Viking accusingly. "Actually, it's your fault that all our dragons have to sleep in jail."
"Yeah," Tuffnut agreed. "You don't see our dragon going on a rampage and wrecking stuff." Their dragon started to pick a fight with Hookfang, as if sensing their riders' irritation. As the Zippleback took a step forward, its claw smashed the crate it was next to. "Well, not any good stuff."
Dany turned to Drogon, who was watching the other dragons with unreadable, orange eyes. He seemed almost. . . unaffected by the whole ordeal, as if all this drama was only a vexation to him. She lifted her gaze to meet his and smiled at him appreciatively, as she knew that she could always count on her dragon to keep the peace. The blonde offered him a pat on the snout for his good behavior— though she hadn't really expected anything less.
Hiccup, who had been thoughtfully quiet up until this point, finally spoke up: "I don't think a dragon wrecked the Great Hall, or stole the boots."
"I think you're right," the Targaryen said, her gaze still on Drogon as she pet him. "It's all Mildew's doing. Since he hates dragons, he's trying to frame them."
Astrid, however, wasn't so easily convinced. "Guys, none of us want to believe it either, but you saw the proof. And Dany, I know we all hate Mildew, but don't you think you're a little biased against him?"
Her jaw tightened and her shoulders visibly tensed, showing the others how much the other girl's words bothered her. "No, I think I'm as biased as he deserves. He's just doing a crummy job of pinning the blame on the dragons."
Hiccup nodded in agreement. "You saw the footprints, too. They were supposed to be made by a Zippleback but they were no deeper than mine. Look at these." He gestured down to a print Barf and Belch had just made in the snow. "I could lie down in them."
Fishlegs, as usual, tried to be helpful by providing another reason. "Well, there could be a lot of explanations why a dragon made shallow footprints."
"Like, hello?" Ruffnut exclaimed as she waved her arms, "he was trying to be sneaky."
Dany snorted at the adjective that the teen used. "Ruffnut, we've been over this before— Zipplebacks can't be sneaky. It's almost like they're supposed to cause havoc, which is why they're the perfect dragon for you two."
"Hey—!" Tuffnut began to protest, until her words made sense. Then he smiled and gave her a shallow bow. "Why thank you."
"Alright," Astrid allowed. "Well, how do you explain the Great Hall?"
Daenerys crossed her arms as she turned away from Drogon to face the group. "Do any of you know how to listen?" (This earned her a very annoyed look from the blonde.) "I just said—"
Before she could finish, Hookfang had become so irritated with Barf and Belch's hassling that he let out a loud roar of frustration. His body erupted into flames a moment later as he growled at the other dragon. She pointed a finger in the direction of the Monstrous Nightmare's flare up. "That! That's what I was talking about. The Great Hall looked destroyed, but was any of it burnt? No, it wasn't! And it would've been if a Monstrous Nightmare had gotten angry inside of it— enough to tear it up."
Hiccup's eyes went wide at the realization. "That's what you were trying to explain to my father? Dany, you're a genius!" (Her gaze fell to her bare feet at the compliment.) He gave her an apologetic look. "He should have listened to you, but maybe he'll hear it from me. I've gotta tell my dad about this!"
🏹🏹🏹
Dany was quiet at dinner that night— even more so than usual. Her parents seemed to pick up on this as they gave her looks of concern throughout the meal. As her father stood to do the dishes, Ingrid gave her daughter a soft smile. "Is everything alright, darling? You haven't said much all evening."
The girl sighed as she traced her fingertip along the smooth line of the table's edge. "I was just. . . thinking about what was happening in Berk. I feel terrible that the other riders'— my friends'— dragons are being penned up and Drogon gets to be free just because I don't live in the village. It doesn't seem fair."
"It's not," her mother agreed gently. "And it's one of the reasons why we stay out here in the forest. We don't have to be subjected by the rules of a narrow-minded chief or his stubborn people."
"But it's not even them," she insisted. "Stoick doesn't want to hurt dragons anymore, but this one villager— Mildew (and yes, he's as terrible as his name implies) — will not be placated as long as dragons live in the village. He's doing everything that he can to make sure they're out of Berk for good. If that happens, and I still have Drogon. . . the other riders might not want to talk to me ever again."
Randolf came back to the table at the sound of his daughter's dejected sigh. He stood behind his pushed-in chair as he wiped his wet hands on a clean rag. "As much as I'd like to offer your friends' dragons a place here, I'm not sure if we can take care of that many for an indefinite amount of time. But, you should also do what you feel is right— and what is right isn't always easy. I know that this would be hard, but perhaps another solution could be that Drogon goes with the other dragons, just for a little, while until you can prove this Mildew guy wrong."
Dany stood to leave the room. "I think I'll go do some carving while I think about it."
🏹🏹🏹
The next morning, Daenerys learned that the worst possible outcome had become a reality: due to Toothless' 'fault' of setting the armory on fire, all of the dragons were to leave Berk until further notice. (She didn't think that the riders— especially Hiccup— would just. . . give up.)
As the others said their goodbyes, Dany stood in front of her dragon, wearing a firm expression on her face. "I want you to stay here, Drogon."
He let out a grunt— either of confusion or protest, she wasn't sure— and she put her hands on her hips. "I'm serious. Toothless will need help keeping the others in line, okay? This is just until we prove that Mildew is behind all this, and then we'll be back together before you know it."
Drogon's nostrils flared as he let out a gust of warm breath that ruffled her clothes. The heavy, comforting weight of his head settled on her hair for a moment, as if he was acknowledging the responsibility that she was giving him. Dany closed her eyes while he did this as she tried to savor the feeling of being close to her dragon. Even though she believed with all her heart that not even Mildew could keep dragons off of Berk, it was still painful for them to part; she'd hardly gone a day without seeing him, and it was almost as if she was a mother being torn away from her child.
As they went to the boat, Hiccup fell into step beside her. "You didn't have to do this, you know. You shouldn't let Mildew win."
She glanced at him briefly before her gaze settled on the ocean in front of them, though he didn't miss the determination flash through her eyes— the same emotion that he was feeling as they left the island. "I'm not letting him win," she said firmly. "I'm only letting him have his way— for now, until we can prove that he's the one behind all this."
After they'd set sail, the brunet joined her in leaning against the mast. The others were lost in their sadness and weren't talking much, but Hiccup wanted to share his suspicions with her. "There's something Mildew said that I can't stop thinking about. He-he said 'see what happens when you leave your dragon to wait outside?' He knew Toothless wasn't with me before the armory fire."
"That is odd," Dany conceded. "I always thought it was strange that he knew the exact worst time to show up. He was always first on the scene— after us, that is— which would be hard for someone who lives so far away. News doesn't really travel that fast."
"Exactly!" he exclaimed— a little too loudly, which earned him glares from the other teens. He lowered his voice as he continued, "why was he in town? And how would he know where we were before the fire?"
She curled a piece of hair around finger thoughtfully as Hiccup acknowledged what they were both suspicious of. "How are you. . . or we, if you want— gonna prove it?"
His expression softened with gratitude as he glanced over at the girl, though she didn't notice as she kept her gaze trained on her silvery-blonde strands as she played with them. "I have an idea."