– Hiccup's Point of View
The moon bathed the cove in soft silver light. Behind us, my cabin stood quiet with its hearth still burning, the soft orange glow flickering through the cracks in the wood and dancing across the grass where Luna had leapt from earlier to kill the last raider. That moment still hung in the air like smoke—intense, brutal, unforgettable.
I gave a low whistle, sharp but melodic.
Luna's ears perked instantly, her head tilting slightly in confusion. She looked at me, then toward the trees, eyes narrowing as the underbrush rustled.
Then they arrived.
Three wolves—two large males with thick coats of smoky gray and jet black, and a sleeker female with striking white fur marked by a single stripe of ash down her spine. They padded out of the trees like shadows given form, lining up in perfect unison before me. Their eyes gleamed, and without hesitation, they all threw their heads back and howled as one—a bone-deep chorus that echoed across the cove.
I chuckled, folding my arms. "Cut that out, you dramatic mutts. Say hello properly."
The three wolves exchanged looks—then looked at Luna—then at me.
And as if some silent signal passed between them, they all lunged forward.
"Ah, here we go," I muttered, bracing.
The wolves tackled me to the ground in a joyous pile of fur and slobber, growling playfully and nuzzling into me like I'd been gone for days. I let out a laugh, the kind that rumbled from deep in my chest as one of them licked my cheek and the other tried to nip at my hair. I barely had time to catch my breath when the ground vibrated behind them.
A hulking shape ambled out of the shadows.
"Oh no," I said, already grinning.
The bear crashed into the pile with a soft, huffing growl, her massive frame bowling over the wolves to lick my face like an overexcited pup.
"Erza," I laughed, wiping slobber from my eyes, "you're too big for this, you know that?"
Erza grunted and kept licking anyway, clearly pleased with herself.
I turned my head toward Luna, who stood with her body slightly arched, wide eyes flicking between the wolves and the bear. Her expression was a perfect mixture of surprise and... mild suspicion.
Still pinned under fur, I raised a hand. "Luna, meet the pack. That brute slobbering on me is Erza. The silver one with the torn ear is Fen, the black one's Onyx, and the white one's Sira. They're mine."
Her ears twitched. I could tell she was trying to figure out what I meant.
"I found them when they were pups," I continued, voice softer now. "Their parents had been killed trying to protect them from a dragon. I killed the dragon, buried the wolves, and... well. I couldn't just leave them. So I raised them. They've been with me ever since."
I scratched behind Erza's ear, earning a pleased rumble from the giant bear. "They're family. My pack."
The wolves, now calmed, circled around Luna cautiously, their tails wagging low in a gesture of welcome. Sira took the lead, her steps light and curious.
Luna tensed and backed up slightly, ears flattening in confusion as she looked from one face to the next.
But then something strange happened.
She glanced at me—at how I'd patted Erza and scratched Fen's chin—and with a flick of her tail, she stepped closer. Her paw raised, hesitated, then gently—awkwardly—patted the top of Sira's head.
I couldn't help it.
I burst out laughing. "Oh great. Now you're copying me?"
Luna turned her head away quickly, feigning disinterest, but her ears twitched with the barest hint of amusement.
Still grinning, I pushed myself up. "Alright, alright, that's enough."
The wolves sat attentively as I brushed off my clothes. Erza lumbered to her feet beside me.
"Think you guys could clean up the mess?" I asked, jerking my chin toward the cliff on the far side of the island. "Toss the bodies. And if the raiders had anything shiny, bring it to me tomorrow."
Fen barked once in acknowledgment. Onyx let out a soft growl and nudged Sira, and the three wolves padded off into the trees toward the remains of the battlefield. Erza gave one last snort and trundled after them, leaving us alone once more beneath the moonlight.
I let out a soft sigh and turned toward the cabin.
"Come on," I said softly. "It's warm inside. And I won't bite... unless you ask nicely."
She hesitated for a heartbeat. Then followed.
Just as she passed me—whack.
Her tail smacked the back of my head, firm but not painful. I blinked, stumbled forward half a step, then turned to look at her with raised brows.
She was already walking ahead, ignoring me.
I laughed again, shaking my head. "Okay. Is that going to be a thing with you? Should I start wearing a helmet around you, or...?"
She didn't look back. But her ears flicked back, just enough to show she'd heard—and was definitely enjoying herself.
I rubbed the back of my head, still chuckling, and followed her inside.
When I even reached the center of the room, I veered left—toward the wall where my weapons were displayed.
Twin swords gleamed in the low firelight, untouched since I was nine. They were polished, flawless, but useless to me now. I didn't need them anymore. Didn't want them.
Claws had become my choice. My truth.
They didn't just cut—they felt. They were my fists, my fury, my voice in a world that tried to silence me.
I unclasped the gauntlets from my forearms, the dried blood cracking as I pulled them free. The scent of iron thickened for a moment. The sharp tang of violence still clung to them like smoke.
With a careful hand, I set them down beside the rack.
Clink.
The metal met wood with finality.
I looked down at them for a moment—stained, spiked, silent. Still glinting like fangs in the firelight. The constellations I'd carved into them years ago were nearly obscured by gore, but I could still see them, still remember why I'd etched them.
To remind myself that even monsters could look up at the stars.
"I'll clean you in the morning," I muttered under my breath, more to the claws than to anyone else.
Then I stood—shirtless, scarred, exposed—and turned toward Luna once more.
I set the gauntlets down with a soft clink on the table, the metal catching the firelight in strange, shifting patterns. What once were clean constellations I had etched across the plating now shimmered dark red, almost black—like the night sky had been dipped in blood.
A fitting reflection, I thought bitterly.
I flexed my fingers slowly, letting the stiffness fade. The leather underlayer was sticky, soaked through. But the armor had done its job. It had let me carve out my place tonight. Let me become the monster I was always meant to be.
But now, the armor had to come off.
I turned back toward Luna, my fingers twitching with hesitation before I began to speak—quiet, almost conversational. "You know... I haven't laughed like I did tonight in years. Not since before everything fell apart."
She didn't move. Just stared.
"But... that's not what matters." I stepped slowly toward her, each motion deliberate, exposing myself not just physically but emotionally. "What matters is this."
I lifted my hand—palm up, fingers loose, relaxed. An open gesture. A vulnerable one.
"I told you I wanted to earn your trust. But... it doesn't mean anything if I'm not willing to give mine in return."
I looked away, suddenly afraid to meet her eyes.
"All I want is a partner. Someone I can trust with my life."
My breath caught. My mind flashed—an old image, ancient now. Of the original Hiccup holding out his hand to Toothless in that clearing so long ago. The scene was burned into my memory. Not for its drama, but for its honesty. That single, quiet moment of placing everything in the hands—or claws—of another.
That wasn't a storybook act.
It was trust.
"I want you to know... this isn't just about the fight tomorrow. This is about us." I swallowed, feeling the fire's warmth at my back and Luna's tension in the air like static.
"If I'm going to stand beside you, I need you to see that I trust you first."
I extended my hand further—slowly, carefully—not toward her face, not toward her wings or her claws, but the space between us.
Open. Waiting.
I didn't move.
Didn't force.
Didn't speak again.
I just... waited.
The fire crackled behind me. My scars caught the flickering glow. And for the first time in years, I felt completely defenseless.
And somehow... I didn't hate it.
Luna's Point of View
The gesture was simple.
Yet it brought my world to a halt.
He stood still, hand outstretched, scent calm but laced with the raw pulse of uncertainty. Not fear. Just exposure. The kind that came before a hunt—or before something sacred.
My instincts screamed at me.
Take him.
Mark him.
Claim him.
No one was stopping me. He wasn't. His throat was exposed. His hand open. His entire posture screamed submission—not weakness, no. Something else.
Willingness.
He was offering something ancient. Something sacred. Something dragons only showed to their chosen. I had seen it before, once, long ago. A Deadly Nadder who bowed his head and opened his chest to the she-dragon he desired. Not to conquer her. But to be seen by her.
That's what this was.
Not domination. Not war.
Ritual.
I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, my paws silent against the wood.
Every muscle in my body was coiled. Not with aggression—but reverence. My pupils were wide, narrowing only slightly as the firelight danced across his face. His scars were fully revealed now—silvered lashes of pain healed over time, history carved into flesh. My tail flicked behind me—not in agitation, but anticipation.
He didn't flinch.
His scent hit me fully as I drew closer.
Smoke. Metal. Sweat. Blood. All familiar. But beneath that—beneath the battle and ash—was something I hadn't smelled in him before.
Peace.
Acceptance.
Home.
He smelled like belonging. Like he'd found something he'd been seeking for far too long.
His face wasn't guarded. Not cold. Not the predator I'd seen earlier. He was still dangerous. Still sharp. But his eyes were focused, watching me not like a threat—but like a being. His equal.
And without even knowing it, he was echoing an ancient rite.
Exposing himself.
Not just physically, but in the way that mattered. No walls. No shields. Just him.
Only mates did that.
Only those who trusted.
I lowered my head, my breath hot against his palm.
And I touched it.
Not just a sniff—though I inhaled him like my life depended on it. No, I pressed into his open hand, nudging it with my snout. The heat of his skin startled me. Almost burning.
But I didn't stop.
I licked him.
Just once.
Slow. Primal.
A message older than words:
I see you.
I accept this.
I will not bite the hand that bares itself to me.
He froze.
His breath hitched.
But he didn't pull away. Not even as I leaned deeper into the contact. He just looked at me—no fear, no smugness. Just... quiet awe.
Then his fingers brushed under my jaw, feather-light at first, then firmer. Exploring. Reverent.
And I let him.
I let him.
His skin was rough in the best ways. Calloused from years of hardship. Warm from the fire. It grounded me in a way nothing else ever had.
"I trust you, Luna," he whispered.
My ears twitched at the sound of my name spoken like that. Not a command. Not a warning. Just truth.
"And I want you to trust me too—not just as an ally... but as a partner."
The word echoed in my skull. Partner.
Not pet. Not weapon. Not tool.
Partner.
My heart thundered in my chest.
I didn't growl.
I purred.
Low. Soft. A vibration from deep within me. One I hadn't used in years. Not since I was a hatchling curling up beside my mother, nestled against warmth and safety. It startled even me, the way it rumbled out of my throat without thought.
I curled my tail slowly around my paws, my body lowering just a little—still regal, still strong, but... open.
He had shown me his truth.
Now, without words, I showed him mine.
Hiccup's Point of View
She pulled back first.
I let her.
My hand dropped slowly to my side, still tingling where her tongue had grazed my skin. I didn't wipe it away.
I wouldn't.
The warmth lingered—searing, grounding. A mark that couldn't be seen, but was now imprinted deep in my bones.
I smiled.
But my mind was a storm.
This small moment—this silent gesture of primal acknowledgment—meant more to me than the carnage I had unleashed hours ago. Luna, proud and unyielding, had nuzzled into my hand. She had purred.
She trusted me.
Or at least... she was beginning to.
And that mattered.
It mattered more than tomorrow's fight. More than the raiders. More than all the pain and rage I'd buried beneath scars and claws.
She stepped away from me—not far, but close enough to lay down beside the hearth. Closer than she'd ever dared before. Not pressed to me. Not claiming. But near.
Like she was saying: I'm not leaving.
I dropped down beside the wall, sliding to the floor with a tired exhale. The heat of the fire brushed against my bare chest. But it was her warmth I felt more keenly. Her breath. Her quiet presence.
I looked down.
My hand was still holding the earring.
The twisted thing that had once dangled from that raider's ear. The one who dared think she could own me. A dead woman's jewelry, used as bait.
And yet... it had brought Luna closer to me. It had led to this moment.
Now?
Now it felt hollow.
I stared at it for a while—at the way the firelight shimmered off the dull metal, now stained with old blood.
Then I whispered—not to the flames, not to the night, but to the dragon beside me:
"Tomorrow... I'll show you what I can really do."
The words felt heavier than they should've. A promise. A vow.
And then—like being struck—I froze.
Because it hit me.
Everything I'd been doing.
The way I kept watching her, admiring her power. The way I wanted her respect. The way I kept replaying the moment she tore that raider apart—how her eyes gleamed, how wild and perfect she looked.
And the way her touch had lit me up like lightning under skin.
I whispered it before I could stop myself. Quiet. Raw. Half-laugh, half-gasp.
"...Shit."
My fingers closed around the earring.
"I think I fell for Luna."
I stared into the fire, heart pounding in my chest.
A dragon.
I'd fallen for a dragon.
Not just a companion.
But her.
And worst of all?
I didn't regret it.
Not even a little.
⸻
Luna's Point of View
I didn't move.
Didn't open my eyes.
But I heard him.
The words fell from his lips like a secret carried on breath. Quiet. Half-ashamed. Half-shocked.
But not a lie.
"I think I fell for Luna."
My heart stopped.
Then stuttered.
Then roared.
I almost didn't believe I'd heard it right. But I had. I knew I had. My ears twitched without thinking, drinking in every nuance—every shift of breath, every heartbeat of hesitation.
He hadn't meant to say it aloud.
Which made it real.
I stayed still, coiled in the fire's warmth. Body relaxed. Eyes closed. But my thoughts?
My thoughts were flames.
Not confusion.
Not fear.
Possession.
He had fallen for me.
Me.
Not because I was tamed. Not because I was delicate. Not because I fit some fragile fantasy.
He had seen me.
He had seen the fury in my eyes. The way I devoured my prey. The way I enjoyed it. And he didn't flinch.
He wanted more.
He wanted me.
And deep in my bones—deep in the primal place that lived beneath language and reason—I knew a truth that sent a slow, rumbling fire through every inch of my being:
I would never let anyone else have him.
Not now.
Not ever.
I opened one eye. Just a sliver. Just enough for the firelight to catch on the emerald iris and shimmer like a warning to the dark.
He didn't see it.
Good.
Because he would.
He will.
He was mine.
And if he didn't know it yet...
He would soon.