Brilliant colours spilled across the darkening sky, an accumulation of clouds casting shadows ever so lightly across the threshold of Berk. In earlier days the twilight hours were filled with shameless drinking and dancing in the Great Hall. Vikings would eat together, talk together, sing together and have an all around enjoyable time. Village elders would intrigue the younger ones with legends of old; tales of huge beasts that could swallow a viking whole; tales of Bork the Bold and his misadventures; tales of fairies granting wishes; and tales of Thor and his mischeivious younger brother Loki.

Daring young vikings would juggle hot coals to impress the ladies; ladies being a misleading word as there was nothing lady-like about these women. Contests were held to determine whose belch could awaken the drunk dozing vikings on the ground. Oftentimes it was a woman who claimed victory.

But the best part about these parties was the feast. A long string of tables would be piled high with all sorts of mutton, fish and yak meat, all cooked and fried and smoked in every way possible. However, feasts such as these were not always possible. During the nine months of winter, food was scarce, and the Chief would not allow for such recklessness. Although food was not always available, there were always barrels overflowing with ale and mead. During these hours of the day ensued a time of enjoyment and fellowship as a release from the hard work of the day.

All that changed the day the son of the Chief was carried off by a night fury.

Five years ago, Stoick the Vast lost the only piece of his late wife he had left besides his helmet. He lost his will to lead. At that time, Spitelout Jorgenson had taken over many of the responsibilities of the Chief to allow him time to grieve. But Stoick never truly returned to his former glory. He tried at first to continue the evening feasts, but the loss of a child held a dark cloud above the heads of the vikings. Minstrels could not bring themselves to produce music in such a time of sorrow.

Presently, a figure flitted between buildings, obscured by the darkness. Avoiding the torchlight, the figure drifted down the island towards the arena. Slipping through the chain-link roof as to avoid the illuminated entrance, the figure dropped soundless to the ground. The figure approached one of the grated doors to the dragon cages and pulled a large, metal lever. The old gate creaked and groaned as it opened wide. Out of the dark interior poked a dark, hooked snout. The figure approached the dragon, hand extended in a calming manner. The nadder pressed its snout into the palm of the figure.

Drawing a hand along the nadder's neck, the figure grasped the spines at the crown of the dragon's head and hoisted themself onto it's back. In an instant, the dragon took to the sky, slipping between the chain-link roof of the arena. The vikings were foolish to believe that a dragon could not fit through the chains.

The figure hugged the large frame of the dragon, face buried in the softer golden scales behind the nadder's shimmering neck.

As the night grew darker, the pair approached their destination. It was a small island, secluded in a rock-strewn area of the sea. The boulders appeared to be remnants of some quarrel that had broken out between the rock giants of old. Scattered throughout the waters, the boulders created an impenetrable barrier between the island and the surrounding ocean.

The island itself was a paradise. A forest of birch trees covered the entire island, excluding a small clearing in the exact centre, with a large pond and a tall waterfall filling the pond until it overflowed out down a hill and towards the ocean. A network of caves similar to catacombs sprouted out from behind the waterfall, providing the perfect location to go about business unnoticed.

This network of caves was the destination of the dragon and its rider.

The nadder dove with the sun as it dipped below the horizon. Years of practice hardened the dragon's accuracy to a point at which it could plummet into the cavern without the need to slow down.

Wind rushed through the figure's long locks of golden hair that matched the dragon's scales. Deeper and deeper the dragon dove until the only light was that of the fire in the dragon's maw. Then, with a lurch, the deadly nadder unfurled it's wings and came to a stop. The dragon landed on the cool, earthy ground, marked by countless claw-prints.

The rider dismounted, motioning for her dragon to follow. The golden nadder trailed the woman as she led the way down a stone path heading deeper into the cave. After a few minutes of walking, a light appeared around a bend in the path. As the pair walked, the woman pulled out a small satchel, containing a small vial of a transparent, rosy liquid. They rounded a bend, entering a large cavern pooling with flickering light. In the centre of the cave was a blazing fire pit, surrounded by large slabs of stone. Along the far wall was a wooden bench covered in weapons and tools. Everything from maces to daggers, shields to giant blacksmith's hammers. Plastered on the wall above the bench was a detailed map.

And kneeling beside one of the slabs of stone was a second figure, tending to an infant hideous zippleback.

"I brought the vial." The man looked up at the sound of her voice.

"Good. Bring it to me." He gazed solemnly into her eyes as she handed him the vial. He turned to the baby zippleback, and removed the stopper from the bottle. "Hold the other head down while I treat this one." The woman moved to the man's side, and did as asked. The man gently grasped the other head, forcing it's jaw open. He tilted the bottle just enough for a few drops to spill into the dragonling's mouth. The infant began wriggling, before suddenly going limp, it's eyes rolling back in it's head, and it's tongue hanging out as it let out a high pitched grumbling sound.

A slow smile crept onto the man's face. He glanced at the woman's blank face.

"It works."

***

"Hiccup? Hiccup! Son, where are you? Lord love me, he's as stubborn as Stoick! Hiccup!"

Valka sighed. Her son had too much of his father in him. It had been hours since Hiccup had stormed off on Toothless to Thor knows where, and the sun was setting. Valka knew her son was more than capable of protecting himself, but he had never been gone this long without letting her know exactly where he had gone. One of the snowwraiths she had on patrol had seen Hiccup hours previously, just north of their home. She had flown out on Cloudjumper, but to no avail, for her son had all but disappeared off the face of the Earth.

"Never have children, Cloudjumper. They are reckless and disobedient, and they make you want to rip your hair out!"

Cloudjumper snorted.

"Hiccup!"

Valka closed her eyes, exasperated. The sun had long since disappeared, and only the light of the moon was their guide.

Cloudjumper faltered.

"What is it? What do you see?"

The dragon's head lowered, and he slowed to a stop. Valka looked around. There. A shadow blacker than the sky flitted across her field of vision. Cloudjumper's wings flapped in time with the beat of her heart. The shadow passed once more, and this time, Cloudjumper chased.

Valka held on as her dragon sped through the air, in hot pursuit of the dark shape. It was definitely a dragon. Could it be Toothless?

"Toothless?" Valka muttered. Cloudjumper's ears twitched as he made a relatively sharp turn. The dragon dove, and Cloudjumper followed. Then suddenly, the shape split in two, and flew in opposite directions.Cloudjumper halted, unable to decide which to go after. In that short period of indecision, both figures had vanished.

Valka stood atop Cloudjumper's back, peering into the darkness surrounding. Suddenly, she felt something cold on her neck, and she was yanked off Cloudjumper. Valka suppressed a scream, forcing herself to think calmly. Two human arms were wrapped around her middle, the one on top gracing a gronkle iron hand. She immediately relaxed.

"Hiccup." She breathed deeply. The person holding her began shaking as a snicker left her captor's mouth.

"Hey mom. How are you?"

"We will talk once you return me to my dragon," Valka said sternly.

"Okay."

***

"I looked for you for hours, Hiccup! I was worried that you got trapped somewhere, or hurt, or captured! I was a few minutes from assembling the tracking dragons to come find you!" Valka paced the cavern, lecturing her very sheepish son who was seated on a chair. "How could you be so irresponsible? You could've at least told me where you were going!"

"I did, I said I was going to patrol the North..." Valka's glare silenced her son.

"The North is a direction, son. How was I supposed to know how far you were going? And how long you would be gone? You could've been seriously injured and I wouldn't know where to look to find you! I could've lost you..."

Hiccup stood abruptly. "No, I would never leave you." He came to stand in front of her. "I have spent most of my life without you, I don't want to waste the time I have now." A small tear slipped out of Valka's eye, and she quickly swiped it away. She extended her arms, and her son stepped right into them, enjoying the comfort of his mother's closeness.

"I love you, son. You just scared me."

"I know, mom."

"Just... just promise me you will always tell me where you are going."

"I promise."

***

A/N  Hey, sorry for not updating for a while, but because of all your comments, I spent 3 hours working on this to get it up tonight. Thanks for the encouragement, and I hope you have a great day!