Hey, guys. Sorry this one took so long. Hurricane Matthew hit the coast just a day or two ago and we had family over and I haven't really had a chance to do any serious writing. No one in my family was hurt, thank goodness, but please keep the families of those who were in your thoughts and prayers.

Also, I don't know why this chapter was so hard for me to write. I mean, seriously, it's only the most well-known scene in the entire movie, right? I should have it memorized by now. SO WHY DID I GET SLAMMED WITH WAVE AFTER WAVE OF WRITER'S BLOCK?!

*sigh*

Anyway, please don't forget to vote and/or leave a comment. Enjoy the chapter!
*****
As it turned out, getting Sindri and Twig to trust him was worlds easier than getting dragons like Crimson to trust him. As the days went by, the rest of the herd was starting to be okay with him, but the scarlet Nadder was clearly still loathe to even let him near. Whenever he got too close, at least in her opinion, she'd rush at him with teeth and claws bared, wings spread. Hiccup couldn't imagine what he might possibly be doing wrong.

I'm pretty sure she just laid another clutch, Twig said, picking up on their unspoken conversation out of the blue. They were sitting by the river, just within sight of Crimson's den, sharing lunch. The Nadder was napping in the sun at the entrance to her den, her sides rising and falling evenly in slumber. Again, Twig was reading his mind. She'd done it so often by now that Hiccup just went along with it. It would definitely explain why she's been so aggressive lately.

You mean she's not always like this? Hiccup asked. Twig shook her head. Dragons are naturally more aggressive when they have a nest to defend. Crimson has more reason than any of us to bare her teeth at anything that moves, after what Creepy Face did to her.

Crimson's one visible eye snapped open as the wind blew toward her. Her nostrils flared and her head shot up, moving slowly as she glared around at her surroundings. She must not have seen anything, though, because she put her head back down a few moments later.

What happened to the Alpha? Hiccup asked, changing the subject.

A cloud of worry seemed to settle over Twig's face. I haven't seen him since you got here. Hope he's doing okay.

Do you think he's sick or something? Hiccup asked. Come to think of it, he hadn't encountered the Night Fury either. Not that that was out of the ordinary—they were talking about one of the most secretive dragon breeds in the world. But still.

Twig shook her head. Oh, no, of course not. Not . . . well, not now, at least, she admitted hesitantly. Concerned, Hiccup gently picked her up and put her on his lap so he could get a clear view of her face. She tried to meet his gaze, convince him that everything was fine, but she kept glancing furtively around behind Crimson's den. She was very worried.

What if we visited him today? Hiccup suggested. That way, you could know for sure what was going on.

To his surprise, Twig vehemently shook her head. No, no, no, no, no, we can't go barging in there.

Why not?

Two reasons. A: that's his personal space. No dragon goes into another's den without permission, even if it's just a friendly visit. And B: he's got the sickness. Or, if he doesn't now, he will soon.

Hiccup squinted, confused. Sickness? He got up and started walking through the meadow back toward the village. Twig curled her tail around his arm, silent for a moment before answering, clearly upset. It's what happens when dragons that are used to flying can't anymore. Younger or naturally flightless dragons are immune because they don't need to or they don't know how to. First they get really irritated and frantic. Their instincts tell them to fly, and they know they can't, but they try anyway. Sometimes, they scream.

Why?

Twig shrugged a little. Frustration, fear, it could be any number of things. She sighed, and small puffs of smoke drifted out of her nostrils. Basically, they go mad over time. They'll do anything to get back in the air again. They're a danger to themselves and to other dragons, and they know it. Flying isn't just a pleasure for our kind, Hiccup, it's a necessity as important as breathing. It's fly or die in this world.

Do you think that's why the Alpha's closed himself off from the rest of the herd?

Maybe. I hope not. They had reached Hiccup's house and it was abundantly clear that she didn't want to talk much, so they parted ways for the day. Hiccup went upstairs and sat down on the bed, thinking, feeling sadder than he had in days. He didn't want the Alpha to get sick, and he wanted to help him, and he wanted to make Twig feel better. But how was one human with precious little experience supposed to help a dragon with a terminal illness?

You could visit him yourself, said a little voice in the back of his head, but he pushed it away quickly. Now was not the time to be a disobedient annoyance. The longer he obeyed the rules, the longer his new life would be.

But obeying the rules meant the Alpha would die. He had to do something. But what? Unbidden, Twig's words came back to haunt him. Flying isn't just a pleasure for our kind, Hiccup, it's a necessity as important as breathing. It's fly or die in this world.

Flying was a necessity. . . .

And then, all at once, it hit him, and he realized what he needed to do. It was crazy, insane, really, and he had no guarantees that it would work. But he had to try. He wanted to repay the Night Fury for saving him from the cougar back on Berk. And the only way to do that was to give him back what he craved most: flight. One way or another, Hiccup would get that dragon in the air.

But he'd have to break a few rules first.

***

Gothi reached the end of the long walk between her house and the field she used to grow crops. Despite being 95 years old, the nature of her home did not wear her down. The steep, treacherous incline that wound up the mountain from the village to her house was a walk in the park for her, and the harsh weather was just a fact of life.

She'd just finished watering the plants and set about making herself dinner. She sliced up some raw chicken and potatoes, then dumped them in the cauldron over the fire and stoked the flame. As the flames drew strength, Gothi stared into the bright, dancing shapes, hoping for a vision. Nothing.

Maybe if she focused really, really hard . . .

She scrunched her eyes closed and focused on the feeling it gave her to have a vision, tried to summon it again. But still nothing. Was Odin angry with her? Had he taken away her seer power?

As if in answer, her body doubled over suddenly of its own accord, and she was blasted with wave after wave of intense heat. Gothi gasped in surprise, and managed to move her hand so that it was supporting her. She closed her eyes and waited.

At first, there was nothing but the darkness behind her eyelids. Then a scene opened up before her, and she sighed with relief. Finally, after all these years, a vision, she thought excitedly, and a million questions clamored for attention in her brain, but she kept them at bay, because it wasn't her job to predict the future. All she did was see it and tell it to those who wanted to hear it.

A beautiful cove deep in the forest, with high rock walls and a small waterfall that fell down into a pond. She barely had time to wonder where this place was before something leaped up out of nowhere and made her jump. A sleek, black dragon, with wings the size of her front deck, and sharp, yellow-green eyes that gleamed with an intelligence that rivaled a human's. A Night Fury. It's claws scrabbled at the rock and its wings beat frantically, but it seemed to be of no avail. The dragon let out several panicked cries before turning and spreading out its wings, gliding across the pond. It seemed to be trapped in the cove. Why wasn't it flying?

Gothi watched the Night Fury closely, her gut telling her that this dragon was very, very, very important to the future. Whatever the gods had in mind, this dragon was definitely a part of it.

The vision changed, firing several images at her in rapid succession. The first surprised her. It was Hiccup, turning and twisting his body around, staying focused on something below him. Suddenly, he stopped and turned. The Night Fury from before was watching him. Gothi had never seen such wise, expressive eyes in her life. Looking away, Hiccup extended his hand out to the dragon, who, after a moment of hesitation, leaned forward and touched its nose to Hiccup's palm.

The vision changed once more, and this time the Night Fury was flying, mere feet above a pond, possibly the one in the cove. Hiccup was clinging onto its tail, gripping one of the tail fins in the back. But the one he held was brown, not black like the rest of the dragon. Was the brown part a prosthetic?

Change again. Now Hiccup was on the dragon's back; they were truly flying. Fascinated, Gothi wanted to see how he did it, but the image faded back to reality before she could.

Sighing, the seer picked herself up off the floor and stirred the cauldron, amazed. The fact that Hiccup was, in fact, alive made her want to dance a jig. Magnus had told everyone that there had been a storm while they were out at sea, and Hiccup had fallen overboard and drowned. The whole village mourned the loss of their heir and their last bit of hope, but Gobber and Astrid had taken his supposed death harder than anyone. Astrid could barely pass the smithy without bursting into tears, and Gobber hadn't spoken a single word since Magnus' return.

But here he was, perfectly healthy and entirely not waterlogged. As long as he was alive, Berk still had a chance. But where was he? And why was he riding a dragon?

Gothi stopped abruptly, calming herself. She didn't know the answers to these questions now, but she was a seer. It was her job to see things happen before they actually did. Whatever Hiccup's reasoning for allying with a dragon, she'd find out soon enough. All she had to do was wait.

***

Hiccup stood in the small, narrow rock tunnel that led to the Alpha's den. His palms were sweaty and he tried wiping them on his pants to dry them off, but it didn't work. And the slimy fish he'd recently caught from the river wasn't helping. He edged forward, closer to the end of the short tunnel. He looked both ways, including up, but didn't see anything, so he stepped out into the open. He walked slowly around the cove, looking for any signs of the Alpha. Nothing. Had the dragon retreated further into the woods, for fear of hurting his herdmates? If he had, how was Hiccup supposed to find him?

Something moved out of the corner of his eye. A tingle ran up his spine, and he had a feeling he knew what it was. Turning slowly, he watched in an electrifying combination of awe and terror as the Alpha climbed down from a rock perch, slunk out in front of him, and came to a stop in a sort of on-guard position: shoulders forward, wings up but not open, crouched low to the ground, head down, and eyes narrowed suspiciously. At least he wasn't baring his teeth. Not yet, anyway.

Cautiously, Hiccup held out the fish, having learned quickly a dragon's undying love of seafood. The Alpha cocked his head a little, his pupils dilating in curiosity, and crept forward, opening his mouth wide—then jerking back suddenly, snarling, back on the defensive.

Startled, Hiccup's brain spun, trying to think of what could have angered the dragon. Oh, of course. He pulled his fur vest back, revealing a small dagger tucked under his belt. Normally, he didn't have it on him, but he'd wanted to take extra precautions. Clearly, that had been a mistake. The Night Fury's gaze locked fully on the weapon, tensing up and growling even more when Hiccup merely brushed his fingers against the handle.

Hiccup took a few steps back and held his hands out in clear view to show that he meant no harm. He slowly reached down and pulled the knife out of his belt, stretching out his arm to the side and dropping the knife.

The Alpha wasn't convinced. He made a little shoveling gesture with his head; carefully, Hiccup picked up the knife with his foot and tossed it into the pond. Both watched the weapon hit the water and sink to the bottom. Then the Night Fury sat back, his pupils widening to an adorable degree, flicking an ear as if to say, Okay, now what?

Befriend the dragon. Get him to fly again. That was as far as Hiccup's plan went at the moment. But he'd brought that fish for a reason. He just hoped that the Alpha was fond of salmon.

As he held out the fish, the Alpha squinted and cocked his head a little, intrigued. Slowly, he crawled forward and opened his mouth, revealing, much to Hiccup's surprise, no teeth.

"Huh," Hiccup commented, mostly to himself. "Toothless. I could've sworn you had—"

Before he could finish his sentence, two rows of gleaming white teeth popped up out of nowhere and the dragon snatched the fish out of his hands, threw his head up, and devoured the fish in one bite.

"—teeth." Hiccup squeaked.

The Alpha licked his lips, looking at Hiccup again. A long, throaty purr came out and he came toward him, faster than Hiccup was comfortable with, and he stumbled backwards until he felt a large rock at his back and knew he couldn't go any further. What did he want? More fish? "I—I don't have any more." The words came out in a harried whisper. The dragon was so close, Hiccup could have leaned his head forward and touched noses with him. What would he do next?

The Alpha made a short cooing sound, and then his throat started convulsing, like he was about to throw up. Hiccup thought of moving too late. A half-digested, regurgitated fish had plopped in his lap, covered in dragon spit. Hiccup couldn't help letting out a groan of disgust.

The dragon shifted his weight to his back legs, sat down again, almost like a person would in a chair, and stared. It wasn't an aggressive stare, just your average, everyday, harmless-but-still-creepy stare. Nothing happened for a minute. Then Hiccup noticed that the Alpha was gesturing to the fishy mess in his lap with his eyes. At first, he didn't get it. But when he checked the dragon's face again to figure out what he wanted, it became abundantly clear: he wanted him to eat the fish.

Hiccup's stomach flip-flopped. Just looking at the mess in his lap triggered his gag reflex—how on earth was he supposed to put it in his mouth?

The Alpha kept staring, either oblivious to or ignoring the mounting panic on the boy's face. There was no getting out of this.

Hiccup sighed and lifted the fish to his mouth, figuring that as long as he didn't look at it, he'd be okay. He reluctantly sank his teeth into it, trying his best to get away with taking the smallest bite possible. It was by far the worst thing he'd ever tasted. Worse than the dungeon-level food Magnus sometimes made him eat. Worse than Astrid's cooking. He wanted to spit it out immediately and never eat anything ever again, it was so bad. But that wasn't an option. He forced a smile on his face while his eyes watered, tears threatening to spill over. He would not, repeat NOT, cry over a fish.

At least the Alpha was happy. He seemed to have what looked like a grin on his face. Hiccup offered the fish back to him, hoping to be able to excuse himself for a few minutes so he could leave and get rid of the awful thing in his mouth.

The dragon swallowed pointedly.

NNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Hiccup screamed in his head. No way was he swallowing something that someone else had already thrown up. He frantically thought of a way out, but, again, there was none. He made an "Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot" noise in order to excuse himself for being so slow to understand and forced the fish down. Almost immediately, he felt it try to come back up and his hand flew to his mouth to keep it from escaping. Finally, it went down the whole way. He shivered and moaned a little. He was definitely skipping dinner tonight.

The Alpha licked his lips, as if to inquire about the quality of his cooking, or lack thereof. Again humoring him, Hiccup smiled a little, avoiding the thought of how bad that fish had been. Slowly, the dragon's lips began to curl upward in an imitation of a human smile, and Hiccup blinked, amazed. He reached forward, careful not to make any sudden movements, wanting to run his hand over the warm scales. If the dragon let him touch him, it would be that much easier to help him fly again.

The Night Fury looked at the hand, then at his face, growled suddenly, and flew as best he could to the other side of the pond. Hiccup got up and followed at a distance. When he caught up, the Alpha had heated the ground with his fire and laid down for a nap. Hiccup sat down quietly next to him while he watched something in a nearby tree. He watched it fly away; a tiny movement caught his attention and he saw Hiccup, who raised a hand in greeting, silent. Clearly annoyed, the Night Fury put his head on the ground and swept his injured tail around to hide his face.

Maybe now that he wasn't watching, Hiccup could touch him. He scooted as close to the dragon as he dared and reached out to the tail. Come on, please . . . He was almost there when the tail fin shot up suddenly, revealing the dragon's face, inquiring as to what the heck he thought he was doing. Hiccup immediately stood up and left the cove, disappointed. The Alpha went off, as well.

While outside, he half expected his stomach to rebel against the fish he'd been forced to eat, but, to his surprise, it stayed down. He paced aimlessly by the entrance for a while, but nothing came to him, so he went back in the cove, sat down on a rock, and let his mind wander, hoping that avoiding the oh-so-important subject would magically make the solution appear.

Of course, that didn't work.

He sighed and picked up a stick, tracing lines in the sand. At first, it was just random scribbles, but eventually the lines began to come together and create the shape of the Night Fury's face. He added a few more details before hearing a gentle purr. He glanced over and his eyes nearly popped right out of his head. The dragon was sitting right next to him of his own choice and peering curiously at the drawing in the sand.

Act casual act casual act casual act casual.

Hiccup kept drawing, making the curve of the eyelids and the tiny ridges down the center of the face. After a moment, the Night Fury walked away. Hiccup glanced over at him leaving, but was surprised to find that he'd grabbed the trunk of a small tree in his jaws and ripped it out of the ground. Hiccup watched in amazement as the dragon imitated his movements, using the tree to draw random curves in the sand, even using Hiccup's drawing as a reference point. He stopped when he was about ten feet away, nodding satisfactorily.

Now standing, Hiccup looked over the scribbles and took a step to walk away, figuring that the Night Fury wouldn't let him close again, but jumped out of his skin when the dragon let out a very serious growl. He glanced down and, seeing that his foot was on a line, lifted it, watching the dragon's face for direction. The Alpha immediately stopped growling and purred.

Keeping his balance as best he could, Hiccup put his foot down again in the same spot, experimenting. The dragon growled. Lifted it: purr. Put it down: growl. Lifted it: purr. This time he put his foot down on the other side of the line, and the Night Fury kept his happy face on. Smiling broadly to show that he understood, Hiccup moved carefully, twisting and turning, being sure to only place his feet in the spaces. He heard a soft snort behind him and found the dragon inches away from him, closer than ever before. But what really caught Hiccup's attention were his eyes. A captivating, yellow-green hue that had him mesmerized; his face seemed to hold so much wisdom and mystery. Hiccup was so entranced, it was all he could do to get his body to do what he wanted it to. He raised his hand again, eliciting a quiet growl from the dragon. He pulled it back, and the growl stopped.

Somehow, Hiccup tore his gaze away from the dragon, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong. There was one other thing he could try, but he didn't know if he actually had the guts to do it. He glanced sideways at the dragon, whose gaze burned right into his soul, who he felt could see exactly what he was thinking. Trust, he seemed to say.

Hiccup took a deep breath, exhaled shakily, and offered his hand to the dragon one more time, but now his head was turned away and his eyes were closed. He listened intently, expecting his heart to be pounding, but it was strangely still, as if it wanted to wait for this moment to be over before it beat again. The dragon was silent, too. Indeed, the whole forest seemed to have gone quiet, alive and thrumming with a wild, unstoppable energy, but holding it's breath, waiting.

And then he felt cool scales brush against his palm.