#httyd writing

[green-crow]

no theatrics today because this cold is kicking my ass, but here is day 4!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63178189

Day 4: Receiving Gifts

Fandom: How to train your dragon

Summary: "Hilda gets called to the hunters' base for a job, but besides the usual payment, Viggo has something else ready for her."

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2,872

Characters: Viggo Grimborn, Ryker Grimborn, Hilda Hávarðr (OC)

Pairing: Viggo Girmborn/Hilda Hávarðr (OC), OC/Canon

Hilda clutched her satchel's strap as she walked through the dragon hunters’ base. Despite working for them for quite a while now and thus spending more time than she would have liked with the hunters, she was yet to feel at ease between those brutes. Especially around Ryker. 

When she had found that terrible terror perched on her window that same morning, detailing Ryker's insistence on having her there as soon as possible, her stomach had dropped. She knew she was in for a rough day or two every time the older Grimborn brother demanded her presence. Viggo at least had the decency to call her with some time to spare.

Making up excuses for her absence and lying to Hiccup was getting increasingly more challenging, but she couldn't do much else. Sneaking around at night, being tired for no apparent reason, disappearing for hours or even days—it was no wonder her colleagues were getting suspicious. Heather and Astrid especially. Hilda had already made a point to avoid lying to those two entirely, and with Viggo's help, they had traced new and more secure air routes for her and the terrible terrors of flying back and forth between the dragons' edge and the hunters' island. Just in case. The idea of coming clean with the Berkians had crossed her mind, of course, but it was always dismissed just as quickly as it appeared. Viggo's support had proven to be far too helpful to end their collaboration now, not to mention how the young healer may or may not have caught certain feelings for the hunters' leader. Thinking about betraying the one and only person who had truly helped her made her sick in her stomach. So, no, that wasn't an option.

On the other hand, Viggo had offered Hilda a more… Permanent alternative. Become the hunters' only healer rather than a temporary business partner. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, so she hadn't thought about it.

For now, at least.

Ryker didn't need to say anything for the two hunters guarding their leader's tent; the two men moved aside as soon as they saw him. Hilda didn't lift her head as she passed between them, yet she felt the hairs on her neck standing up. Her grip on her old satchel's strap tightened.

"Ah, there you are, little mouse." Despite once having caused her to tense up and make her want to flee, Viggo's voice now helped her feel at ease. She was used to the nickname by now, too, and she merely nodded as the chief of the dragon hunters acknowledged her. Ryker didn't seem to like being ignored, but she was used to the brothers' complicated relationship.

"I received Ryker's terror mail this morning. It seemed urgent." She didn't take a seat, not yet.

Viggo arched his brow at the older Grimborn brother but soon turned his gaze back to the healer and offered her a seat she gladly took. "I'm afraid my brother has rushed you for no reason. A few of our men are in need of your help, no doubt, but none are critical. Regardless, thank you for your punctuality." He poured himself a generous amount of a dark, red liquid in his goblet, then raised the bottle her way. She simply shook her head, denying his offer. Used to her refusal to drink, he simply set down the bottle before glancing at his desk drawer, then back at her.

Viggo went on to explain what had happened, with Ryker joining in the conversation only when his little brother asked him to. Apparently, the same mission Hiccup and the others had returned so happily from had caused some injuries between the hunters, not to mention important losses from Viggo. Hilda jotted down whatever information she considered important, though her eyes sometimes shifted to the man before her. She was aware of the subtle shift in his voice as he spoke of the lost battle against the riders, how his hand tightened its grip on the goblet, and his lips straightened subtly. Viggo wasn't an emotional man, at least not usually. He had reasonable control over his feelings, yet the topic of failure against those teens and their dragons, the same group he knew she was part of, made him lose his cool ever so slightly. Sometimes, Hilda worried she would venture into his camp for the very last time, both her dragon and his rider meeting a gruesome death at the hands of Viggo's men. Sometimes, she had nightmares about Ryker bringing down the ax over her dragon's head just as she imagined he and other hunters did when she wasn't there. Sometimes, she felt like her alliance with the hunters would end her.

"…Hear me, little mouse?" Hilda blinked as Viggo's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her cheeks heated up, a pink hue covering her face as she realized she had been staring at the hunters' chief and not listening to his words.

"U-um, could you repeat that?" While her bashful reaction earned a huff of annoyance from Ryker, Viggo smirked. She felt like a terrible terror facing a death song that had lured and toyed with her before turning her into dinner. Like a little mouse in between a cat's paws.

"Of course. As I said, we have a crate with uva-ursi, just as you requested." The older man extended his arm toward a covered box that Hilda had previously ignored. "You will receive your payment whenever you are done with my men. Are the instructions clear?" The healer nodded, and that was that.

After a long, long day of bandaging, treating burnt wounds, and inspecting more wounds than she had expected, the viking girl finally let herself take a deep breath and rest. It hadn't been the worst of days, to be honest. At least this time, the hunters had come back with all their limbs. She shuddered as memories she had fought back to repress came back to life in her head once more.

Hilda knew she'd have to come back in a week or so to check on her patients, not too soon to make her disappearances suspicious but not too late to miss the wounded hunters' development. She was thankful that now, at least, Viggo had managed to keep some men with minimum medical skills in his army, enough to cover for her when she wasn't available. Between acting as the hunters' healer, Gothi's apprentice, and the riders' medical prodigy, the young girl felt like flying away into the sunset and never coming back. Of course, she knew she couldn't. Hilda would have never allowed herself to ignore others' pain just to catch a break, no matter how hard she wished for one. Everything she did—the secret deal with the hunters in exchange for rare ingredients for her cures, living with the riders on the edge to help Berk's most beloved heroes, even back then as a teen when she had first met her dragon, it had been on a journey to find the cure for her little sister's deadly disease. Did she get any thanks for her actions, though? Not really. Viggo paid her, sure, but that was the bare minimum, given their deal. Not only did she have to overwork herself way too hard, but the young woman also felt like her presence and skills were taken for granted. "A bit of money would be appreciated…" she mumbled under her breath, looking at her almost broken bag and thinking about her dragon's not-so-comfortable saddle. Regardless, at least she felt useful. That was enough.

With a sigh, Hilda walked back toward Viggo's tent. It was dark out already, yet the torches around the camp were enough to guide her. Shadows danced around her, the skulls on top of the fire morphing the shapes irregularly. She sped up her pace ignoring her achy feet, and didn't wait for Viggo's permission to come in. The man looked up from his papers as she pushed the dragon skin to a side, a frown and a dark glare on his face. Yet as he saw it was her, Hilda couldn't help but feel like his expression had softened ever so slightly.

"I, um, I'm done with your men." She informed him. Hilda could feel his gaze locked on her, and suddenly, she wished the earth would swallow her whole.

Being alone in the same room as Viggo had a strange effect on her. Most people would be scared, intimidated. She had felt like that the first times they had met, yet now it was different. She didn't mind being alone with him, not at all. And she knew he would not hurt her. As long as she proved to be a helpful tool, Viggo would not lie a finger on her or her dragon. She was adamant, even if she wished he saw her as something more than just that. The problem was that thanks to that lack of fear, Hilda's thoughts about him were ones she couldn't share with anyone. Well, anyone but her dragon. The woolly howl had already gotten used to the long monologues of his rider going on and on about how Viggo made her heart flutter and beat much faster for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

"I see. That is good to hear." He set aside the papers he had been reading, now with his hands resting comfortably on his desk. "I take you have further instructions for them?"

"Right, yes." Hilda took a few steps forward and placed her notes on the table. She felt her cheeks growing hotter as she realized just how awful her penmanship was and hoped the man could read it. "Some need more care than others, but overall, your men managed to stay out of the dragon's fire shots. They should be able to return to training with Ryker in a week."

Viggo huffed. "Knowing my brother, he will demand that time to be halved." he mused. The comment made Hilda crack a smile. She found it funny how the Grimborn brothers, as dangerous and scary as they could be, could still treat each other as regular siblings would. The petty comments, the stupid mocking every once in a while, it ran deeper than a mere power imbalance (though that also helped) or mutual hatred. It reminded her of her behavior with Ebba, which made her heart soften.

The chief glanced at her, a smirk of his own appearing on his face as he saw her holding back a chuckle. A comfortable silence filled the tent for a few seconds, yet Viggo spoke up again. "Well, I trust your word. I will do my best to refrain my brother from throwing my men into the ring for the week." The man rose from his chair, now with the scarce light hitting his face more clearly. Hilda wondered if those eye-bags of his would ever go away or if the man had just been born that way. "For now, you may take your payment."

The healer looked at the crate he had mentioned earlier, the gears in her head already turning as she thought of all the different potions and unguents she could make with those rare berries. But before grabbing it, she gripped her satchel, fidgeting with the strap. "Actually, um, I have something for you." She had been preparing mentally for this for a while now, and even then, she could feel herself lowering her head and trying to hide as Viggo looked at him with genuine curiosity. Hilda opened her satchel and quickly brought out three bottles of a liquid the man did not recognize. "These will help you. Sleep, I mean. I had enough ingredients left over after my last batch of potions for Berk, and I found some lavender at the northern markets as well, so I thought- I didn't want to assume, but, since you always look so- Not that you look bad, but—" thankfully, Viggo spoke up before she could continue rambling and digging herself a deeper hole.

"A sleeping remedy, hmm?" He grabbed one of the vials, removed the cap, and smelled the aroma. Hilda had made sure to add a generous amount of lavender, an effort he appreciated. For once, the man seemed at a loss for words. "…I'm afraid I wasn't expecting something like this, I can't cover the cost of—"

"There's no need. Take it as a gift. And, if they help you, I'll make more. But these are for free. On the house." The healer knew she was blushing by now, her eyes refusing to meet his, but she tried to at least sound professional.

Viggo looked back down at the vials, and momentarily, she regretted her choice. Had she done something offensive by accident? Did she insult the chief of the dragon hunters' with her gift? She had just meant to give something back to the man who had helped her so much, but now she wished she never had. Maybe she had read the room wrong all those previous times when he had gently kissed the back of her hand, or when he had found her crying after the death of a man in her care and decided to console her. Maybe this cunning, serious businessman who had awoken new feelings within her, truly saw her as nothing but a tool. Maybe—

"Thank you, Hilda." She felt her heart skip a beat at the sound of her name on his lips. He usually used "little mouse" or other kinds of nicknames for her, but her real name, spoken with such care? That was new. "Truly." The softness in his voice made her positively melt.

"I-it's nothing, sir." She assured him as she fought against the big smile that was trying to come out.

"Actually, it is far from nothing. And I believe there is something you should get in return." Before she could complain, the older man sat back on his chair and opened one of the drawers on his desk, retrieving something almost immediately. As if he had been ready to fetch it before she had even set foot in his tent. Hilda raised her head to try and catch a peek at what he was grabbing, but she couldn't see anything. "No peeking, little mouse." He said with a rare hint of humor in his voice. The healer with rosy cheeks returned to her original stance, not moving an inch as the enemy got up and circled her, stopping at her back. She couldn't see or even hear his movements, and her breath hitched when she felt his hand gently pushing away her black hair to expose her neck. She was glad he couldn't see her scarlet face at that moment, even if the tip of her ears was probably giving her away.

Hilda inhaled sharply as cold metal touched her skin, yet she did not flinch. It wasn't the metal of a weapon, but rather some sort of light and thin chain. She looked down as he secured the necklace on her neck and pushed the medallion that decorated the chain to the front. The healer looked down and immediately recognized the rune inscribed in it. "Eir." She read, reading the name of the Valkyrie of healing. As her brain tried to process what this was, Viggo started talking, his breath teasingly reaching her exposed skin and making her shudder.

"I had it made for you." he began, for some reason remaining behind her. "Were it not for your help, my army would be much smaller, and many of my men would be in Valhalla. You work diligently, not to mention you have a talent for brewing remedies and potions. As such, you more than any should benefit from Eir's protection and guidance, even if you hardly need it." His words were measured yet warm, with no trace of the serious man he usually became in front of others.

Hilda's mind raced with thoughts too fast to grasp, and her lips, despite being open, refused to mutter any words. Viggo stepped back in front of her, worry shaking him as he saw her watery eyes.

"My dear, are you alright? If you don't like the gift, I—"

"I-it's perfect." She quickly reassured him. And it wasn't a lie. The gift was something she would have never expected, and just knowing he had took the time to think about her when she wasn't present, that he had chosen to spend time and effort into searching for this gift and eventually paying for it… She was fighting the tears as she tried her best not to start sobbing. "Thank you. I promise I'll always keep Eir's blessing close to me." She rubbed her thumb against the medallion. He cared about her.

That seemed the correct answer, given how Viggo smiled, relieved.

"I'm glad. After all, it would be a shame to lose such a… bright individual as yourself." He nodded as his gaze moved away from her.

If Hilda hadn't been so busy trying not to combust right there and there, she would have noticed Viggo's own cheeks turning a soft hue of pink. It was rare to see the man so… human.

After exchanging a few pleasantries and with some hunters' help, Hilda carried the crate of uva-ursi back to her dragon, ready to return to the edge.

For the next weeks, her friends would find the healer smiling to herself and blushing every time she looked down at her chest, where, unbeknownst to them, laid Viggo's gift right above her heart.

[despiteherself]

and now i’m tangled in your life 

Although Fishlegs has already been on Berk for three months the reality of it doesn’t sink in until he’s watching the last tourist boat of the season leave the docks. It is then, holding a crusty old bucket full of kelp debris and a sparkling little fish the fisherman had promised Eret would love to see that it really settles in his gut.

He is stuck on Berk.

When the opportunity to do a year of study on the remote island of Berk comes up Fishlegs, fresh out of a messy break up, jumps at the chance. There he’s met with a handful of animated individuals, he commits to a winter of recording and photographing the algae of the surrounding waters - but all it not as simple as it initially seems.

part 1/3, developing fishlegs/eret, established astrid/tuffnut, marine scientists au, third person limited fishleg’s pov.    

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Black Phantom AU

New au I just thought of, and it's gonna eventually get a story, but here's some background.

The year is 2122; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock is an engeneering student at one of the largest universities in New York. He's planning on going into the aeronautical design, and becoming a pilot.

In his second year, he finds an old jet; a really old jet; Namely a Lockheed Raptor; the fastest jet in the 21st century. Only thing is, it's painted jet black. It was a stealth plane. The Stealth Plane owned by one of the most notoriously insane pilots of his time: Krogan; otherwise know by his codename "The Reaper", due to his insane air tactics and manuvers in the air.

Hiccup knows plenty about planes at this point, and, as an assignment, he decides to see if he can get it running again.

Only problem is, now he's seeing spirits; namely one of a tall man in an all black pilot's suit with a shattered pair of goggles.

And once he gets the plane running again; it acts really weird. It's radio will turn on by itself; and will transmit signals; voices will surge through the cockpit, almost as if the plane is trying to tell Hiccup something.

Because the figure looks an awful lot like its old pilot; who disappeared off all maps and radar.

[the-local-oddity]

Burned

What if the Hunters from Season 3 ep 1 actually managed to brand Hiccup? I wrote a small thing about it!

encourged by @evilwriter37 to do this, I hope you like it!

A scream echoed through the island, a horrific pained scream, as a hot iron was pushed into Hiccup's cheek. Permanently etching the Dragon Hunter's symbol into the skin of his face.

The hunters laughed cruelly as they dropped Hiccup, who collapsed the second he was released. He wanted to cover the burn, but even the slightest touch caused him untold pain. He curled around himself, trying to force himself to work through the pain, but it was all he could focus on.

"Hiccup!" Dagur shouted trying to pull his arms free from the hunter's grasp, "Let me go, if you know what's good for you!" He growled through gritted teeth.

A hunter stood over Hiccup, he raised his mace over the shaking rider, "If you want ta help 'im so badly, you'll tell us where that Nightfury is!"

Dagur glared hard at them, but softened when he saw Hiccup. Neither option was good. Give up Toothless, or watch as Hiccup's beaten. Dagur looked away, squeezing his eyes shut as he spoke.

"Fine. I'll take you there."

The hunter's laughed again as they let Dagur go, incorrectly assuming that they'd won. As he passed Hiccup, Dagur looked down at him, even through his pain, Hiccup managed a fierce and angry glare at him. Dagur only managed to look apologetic.

Thinking he'd be no trouble now, the hunters left Hiccup behind, all stalking after Dagur. When he figured he was safe enough, Dagur turned back, ripping the weapon from the nearest hunter's hand as he started his attack.

Hiccup heard the commotion in the distance as he stumbled up to his feet, a hundred different curses were swarming through his mind as he tried to find anything to alleviate the pain from his burn. He bent down by a water bucket and looked in, seeing his own reflection in the water.

His stomach turned as he saw the insignia, a steering bright red that looked as if it'd never fade away. He squeezed his eyes closed as he cupped water in his hands and pressed it against the burn, stifling his pained screams by biting down on his own arm.

It barely helped.

Dagur hurried to his side, "Come on!" He pulled Hiccup up by his arms, "We need to go before they get help!"

"Toothless he-" Hiccup tried to force himself out of Dagur's grip, but was unsuccessful.

"He's fine! I just know it!" Dagur practically dragged Hiccup along back to the cave they'd left Toothless in.

The dragon opened his eyes when he heard the approaching pair, he still felt a bit ill, but he didn't care once he saw Hiccup. Toothless pushed himself to his feet, rushing to Hiccup's side.

"You're okay…" Hiccup gasped, he felt a bit guilty for going after Dagur the way he did. Toothless pushed his head into Hiccup's hands, cooing worriedly.

"No time! Remember? The hunters?" Dagur pushed Hiccup onto Toothless' back, before climbing up after him, "Let's go!"

Hiccup took a deep breath, before hooking his leg into the stirrup. Maybe focusing on flying would distract him from the pain. The cool winds certainly helped a bit.

By the time they'd landed on Dragon's Edge, the other riders had been preparing to go searching for their missing friend. Hiccup was rushed by his friends the second they hit the ground.

"Hiccup!" Astrid pulled him off of Toothless’ back, holding him in her arms, "Oh, thank Thor you're okay!"

Hiccup hissed in pain when his cheek touched hers, "only- only partly okay…" he pushed off her, the branding now being obvious to everyone.

"What happened…?" Astrid asked as he carefully cupped Hiccup's face, her hands avoiding the horrid burn, as she tried to get a better look at it.

"Dragon Hunters happened." Dagur answered for him, "As usual, they wanted Toothless, but he didn't give in! Not my little brother!" He placed a hand on Hiccup's shoulder, trying very hard to look supportive. Almost forgetting that the Dragon Riders weren't his allies.

Astrid pulled Hiccup in closer, pulling out her axe and aiming it right at Dagur, the other Dragon Riders, and their dragons, jumped to Hiccup's defense. Hiccup just sighed, his unburnt cheek resting in Astrid's hand.

"Dragon Hunters, huh?" Snotlout sneered, "I bet you had something to do with this!"

"Yeah! Tell us the truth you, liar-liar pants on… whatever!" Tuffnut yelled, slightly losing his train of thought.

"Guys." Hiccup was basically accepting being held at this point, he was very tired and in too much pain to really care, "Dagur saved me and Toothless' life. If it wasn't for him, I'd have a lot worse than… this…" he motioned vaguely to the scar. His friends all hesitated, but lowered their weapons as Hiccup's request.

"If he does anything, anything at all! To prove you wrong, Hiccup. Then we'll throw him out ourselves." Fishlegs reassured Hiccup.

Astrid led Hiccup to the table of the clubhouse and sat him down, before going to look for any medical supplies they had on hand.

Dagur watched from the doorway as Hiccup was bandaged up by her, all of his friends standing close by for support. All of their faces mixed with grief and concern.

"You should probably tell Stoick before you see him again." Ruffnut suggested, "Otherwise you're reaaaallly gonna freak him out."

"It'll- ow- it'll freak him out no matter what." Hiccup had his head tilted up while Astrid carefully rubbed some burn cream (made by Gothi for Snotlout's many burns thanks to Hookfang flaming up while Snotlout was riding him) onto his cheek.

"Knowing your dad," Dagur spoke up, "he'll probably chase those hunters down and kill them himself." The Dragon Rider's all gave various nods of agreement.

"Surprised you didn't kill them… You sounded pretty angry…" Hiccup managed one tired smile, "Dagur... thanks… I don't know if we would have made it out of there if it wasn't for you… brother."

Dagur gasped quietly, "You called me brother! And you weren't even taunting me!"

Astrid finished up bandaging Hiccup's face, sighing as she rested her hand on his back, "I'm guessing we're gonna have to deal with him for a little while longer, hm?"

"I uh, kinda owe him…" Hiccup kept his smile as he leaned onto her. Perhaps having him around wouldn't be so bad.

[green-crow]

woooh first day of the valentine's day series is up! Not entirely happy with this but had to get it out so for better or for worse here it is

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Day 1: Physical Touch

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Summary: "Viggo had always found the constant clinginess of the huntress to be annoying at best and infuriating at worst, yet he had never expected to actually miss her touch."

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1379

Characters: Crow (OC), Viggo Grimborn

Pairing: OC/Canon, Crow/Viggo

At first, it had bothered him deeply. 

The constant closeness, the way Crow pet his head when she congratulated her boss for a well-thought-out plan as one would compliment a child which made him swat her hand away, her head resting on his shoulder whenever she tried to read the documents he was working on without his permission, earning her a flicker on the forehead, her legs draped casually over his lap as she sat down for an important meeting regardless of who was present... Viggo was acutely aware of her clingy behaviour; for better or worse, he knew she was like that with everyone around her. From her dragon to a random hunter and even his brother from time to time, the girl seemed set on touching and disturbing everything and everyone. It was like her sole mission was to intrude on others’ personal spaces. Viggo would have kicked her out long ago if he hadn’t been such a skilled hunter. But, alas, she was too invaluable of a resource to simply throw away. As annoying as she was. 

He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he got used to those touches and proximity. The leader of the dragon hunters would have never admitted it, but after sending Crow away on a mission or having her take care of the new batches of dragons, he found himself missing her presence. As absurd as it sounded, he couldn’t deny that was the case. He would often find himself searching for her, his eyes drifting away from the paper whenever anyone approached his tent, hoping it would be her who interrupted him or yearning for the sound of her voice as she talked and talked to no end. Viggo had become so accustomed to her ramblings and singing he could hardly focus in silence anymore. 

And to his dismay, Crow seemed to notice this change in her boss. 

While she remained touchy and cuddly with everyone else, she started pushing Viggo’s boundaries. Sitting on his same chair while they held meetings draping her arms around his shoulders as they studied maps together, even giving him quick, teasing kisses on his hand or cheek whenever they parted ways. It was no wonder rumours of the local temptress being involved with their boss spread like wildfire among the hunters despite Viggo’s attempts to quiet them down. Someone in his position couldn’t have such gossip running around. Of course, the fact that he casually started to frequent her tavern around that same time didn’t help at all. 

Well, calling it a tavern was a bit of a stretch. But it was what Crow called it, and she ensured no one disrespected the fruits of her labour. As much as she played the card of being a drunk, irresponsible huntress, the young woman reminded Viggo’s men why she was considered an essential addition to their ranks whenever she yielded her daggers. 

Regardless, he couldn’t deny he looked forward to those nights where, despite the ever-growing pile of paperwork waiting for him on his desk, he left his tent and headed to the source of music, chatting, and laughs to let his mind unwind. As aggravating as his men's constant bickering and shouting was, Viggo found himself ignoring his discomfort and even smiling as Crow welcomed him with a glass of his favourite wine and a few intoxicating touches he did his best to feign indifference towards. 

And oh, did those touches get even more addicting… After one passionate and frantic night together, Viggo had the pleasure of experiencing first-hand just how clingy Crow was. Scratches, bites, love marks, she would make a point to explore the entirety of him with her hands and mouth, as if trying to commit the memory of him into her very core. Yet her touches didn’t stop there. From then on, she would sneak soft caresses and furtive kisses at every opportunity she got to be in private with him, making the dragon hunters’ leader crave more and more physical contact with her, yet he never dared show his true desires. He wouldn’t give in so quickly, he told himself, and instead, he would make her earn the right to touch and worship him as she saw fit. She didn’t seem bothered by his lack of reciprocation, and he was a big prize, after all. He could not let anyone have his undivided attention without working for it, regardless of how much he wished for it. 

Viggo had never expected their time to be cut short so suddenly.

 

The once powerful chief and leader sat now in a dark corner of a lowly tavern, his face, or what was left of it anyway, hiding under the safety of his hood. Shadows crept around his silhouette, almost as if they were about to devour him whole, and some nights Viggo wished they had. He took another sip of his drink, a strong ale that tasted even worse than it looked, but it did the work of getting him drunk. That was enough. It wasn’t like he deserved a fine drink, anyway. 

Sometimes, he would crave a delectable, crimson glass delivered to his hands by his once lover, yet thoughts of her only pushed him to drink more. What would she think of him, he wondered, having killed his own brother, having failed to defeat the enemy, having lost the trust of hundreds, having cost her her life? Such thoughts refused to get out of his head, so on nights like that, he drank. Viggo could still remember the exact words Hiccup had said to him as they found an unconscious Crow in the nearby area of his tent, her dragon having flown away in search of help, and everyone tried to turn on their leader. Everyone but her. He remembered how Fishlegs, probably the closest thing they had had to a healer at that moment, had looked at Hiccup with eyes full of worry and pity. The message was clear. Crow would not make it. And so Viggo had nothing left to live for, if not the dragon eye. What a joke of a hunter, failing to secure even that. Maybe it was for the better she had died. That way, she wouldn’t have seen that sorry excuse for a man reaching his lowest point as he was now. 

Viggo took another swing at the mug, hoping to quiet down the voices. The tavern was quiet, so when a mysterious figure entered the place, everyone turned their heads her way. He didn’t glance up as the newcomer talked to the man behind the bar, or as someone grumbled a vulgar comment yet fell silent suspiciously quickly. Viggo did not look away from his mug as he heard footsteps coming his way, and instead only hid his head further. In shame or fear, he did not know. Yet his own body reacted with goosebumps as those very familiar hands touched his, and he froze in his seat. With wary eyes, he looked up, finally meeting the gaze of that someone he had thought dead long ago. His lips must have spoken on their own because that annoyingly smug grin of hers appeared in her mouth as she answered. “You should have been dead too, from what I’ve heard”, she pulled a chair to sit in front of him, “but I knew we were both too stubborn to die before our time.”

Crow’s fingers interlaced with his own, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand and sending shivers down his spine. The once huntress squeezed his hand in hopes of some, any reaction at all. Viggo merely blinked, trying to process it all. And as words failed him, he could only think of one way to communicate with her. Carefully and with some slight hesitation, he raised her hand to his face and let her touch and caress all of him. The surprise was evident on her face when she felt his scars, yet that did nothing to stop her. 

Soon enough, she was sitting on his lap, hugging and caressing every piece of him as if it were the first and last time she got to touch her beloved. And Viggo happily complied. He would never back away from her touches again.

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Mainframe

Summary: in a dragon racing accident, Krogan ends up discovering that something isn’t as it seems with himself.

Krogan pushed Basil harder and faster through the loops and turns that the other dragon rider was making in front of him. The blood red Singetail screeched, while Krogan simply toned out all other noises except for his heartbeat. So close! He was so close!

Krogan reaches his hand out, desperate to grab the flag attached to the tail of the Night Fury in front of him. If he grabbed it, then he won!

The rider in front of him suddenly made their dragon halt, and Krogan’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the little girl toddling out onto the field. The man screamed, pulling his legs back in a frantic means to get Basil to stop. The Singetail shot upwards in response, careening straight for the barrier at the top of the stadium.

Krogan twisted in his harness, and then, too fast, they were plummeting.

The man screamed in terror, right before he was thrust from his harness, and sent skidding across the tarmac.

Krogan awoke with a groan to the sounds of flustered whispering and confused noises of surprise.

“Krogan!” The worried voice of what he assumes is a medic sounds like it's coming from three feet underwater.

Krogan groaned again, his eyes slowly sliding open, pupils dilating to cope with the light streaming into his eyes. Feeling starts to return to him, and so does pain.

Agony is slicing through his bones, through his heart.

Krogan screamed in agony, trying to yank himself up from the asphalt, only to recoil in horror at that sound of metal screeching against stone.

Panting, all of the voices become hazy again, as Krogan looks down to where his arm is supposed to be, only, his arm isn’t there, and Krogan finds himself staring at a sparking mess of tangled wires and twisted metal.

Deep inside of him, something’s screaming that there should be blood that there should be broken bones, should be flesh.

Someone’s shaking his shoulders, and his head hung limply his mind was spinning, and suddenly, the ebbing pulse of unconsciousness began to wriggle through his mind, its tendrils grasping deep into him with an angry, dangerous force.

Krogan dropped to the ground with a dull thud, his world going completely black.

[green-crow]

The final day has arrived! We are closing this series with the same couple that started it all—Viggo/Crow! These two are my favorite OC/Canon pair, and I hope I can make more content of them in the future. For now though, enjoy this kind of silly fluff piece! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading along, it means the world to me <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63204751

Day 5: Quality Time

Fandom: How to train your dragon

Summary: "Viggo wakes up in a strange place, confused, and with no recollection of what happened. Unbeknownst to him, he is not alone in that island."

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2,475

Characters: Viggo Grimborn, Crow (OC), Boreas (dragon OC)

Pairing: Viggo Grimborn/Crow, OC/Canon

A foul smell reached Viggo's nostrils, forcing his body out of his slumber. With a cough, he woke up feeling disoriented, his head throbbing, and the terrible terror that had woken him up let out a surprised chirp before running away. A harsh light forced his eyes shut while he tried to recover from… What, exactly, had happened to him? His wrists weren't tied, neither were his ankles. There were no signs of restraint on his body. No wounds, no needle marks, nothing that would lead him to think he had been abducted. He tasted a strange flavor in his mouth, so faint he could have washed it out with water, and immediately, she deduced those two were related.

A gust of wind made the grass beneath him sway and brush the few portions of exposed skin his armor didn't cover. He wasn't where he had fallen asleep, but he didn't seem in danger. At least that meant he didn't need to panic.

The hunters' chief rolled his neck with a grunt, feeling it stiff. Eventually, he managed to get himself up from the patch of grass he had been lying on, finding that his back was also not feeling the best. He opened his eyes slowly and took in his surroundings as he moved his hand to his hip to fetch his sword, yet it was nowhere to be found. Okay, maybe that was a reason to panic. Instead, he clutched the small knife hidden in his boot, the weapon's weight calming his nerves. First things first, he had to figure out where he was, then he would—

The roaring of a dragon snapped Viggo out of his thoughts. That was no terrible terror but a larger beast that sounded dangerously close to him. The experienced hunter soon assessed the situation as he got into a defensive stance. It was rare for him to lose his nerves, even more so to feel fear. But he was getting close to it now. His heart rate sped up, his mind racing with thoughts and possible plans for his situation, each passing one more risky than the previous. He was no match against a wild dragon in an unknown territory with nothing but a simple dagger. Perhaps his brother could come out of this match unharmed, but Viggo knew his limits. This was one of them. Regardless, he would not back down now. He would face the beast even if it were the last thing he did. Holding the blade tightly, the dragon hunter awaited for the beast to appear before him.

But instead, a woman did—a very familiar one.

"Oh, hey there, sleeping beauty! I thought I had some more time before you got up…" Crow looked up at the sky as she determined the time. After a few seconds, his partner simply shrugged. "How are you feeling?"

Her boss blinked, trying to understand what was happening. The huntress tilted her head.

"You okay? I didn't give you too big of a dose, did I?"

Before Viggo could say anything back, the bushes behind her rustled as her dragon jumped out with what looked like a boar's body in between his teeth, the blood training red that beautiful white fur coat on the beast. Crow smiled at the animal and gave it a few pets before turning to her partner.

"I hope you like boar! Boreas got lucky and caught one for us." The dragon huffed at that, icy breath coming out of his nostrils. Her rider merely rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, you didn't "get lucky", it was all skill. Happy now?"

Rider and dragon kept on their banter as Viggo remained stuck in his spot. This felt beyond surreal. Dosed. Crow had dosed him. For a moment, the chief considered the idea that she had betrayed him but immediately set it aside. Her loyalty had only strengthened after taking a step further in their relationship and becoming more than chief and huntress. A prank, then? It wouldn't be unlike her, yet he would have expected her to be laughing by now or waiting for his wake-up to tease him endlessly.

Instead, she acted… naturally. Like this wasn't a big deal. He knew he was still slightly groggy from his long rest, but that situation would have stunned anyone regardless.

Viggo eventually found it within him to push through the confusion and walk towards the woman and her dragon, who were trying to start a campfire and failing miserably.

"What good is a dragon when he doesn't even give me fire?" She complained and earned a blast of frozen air right to her face. With a shake of her head, she made the little crumbles of ice on her hair fall off and simply kept working on the wood. Her lover sat across from her, watching her hands.

"You dosed me." His words didn't come out as a question, but she nodded anyway. "Was it on my dinner?"

"Nope. I know sometimes you forget to eat, but you never forget to drink. So I dosed your wine." She struck the two rocks together, coaxing out a few sparks.

"My… wine." He relieved the memories of the previous day. He had chosen a new bottle for the night, no doubt. "It was unopened."

"It was also from the bottle I gave you that one time." She blew on the campfire to keep the fire alive and help it grow. The woolly howl beside her joined her, letting her talk with Viggo instead of focusing on the campfire. "Remember that day we raided those, uh, wing shields people or whatever?"

"The defenders of the wind?" He said, almost with a sigh.

"Yeah, those! Remember how I got some stuff for free? Some jewels, weapons, a fancy bottle of wine I gave you as a gift?" She stretched and brought a water skin that was most likely not filled with water to her lips.

"But… that was weeks ago." The dumbfounded look on his face only caused her to grin, as a con artist would after their latest scam.

"I know. Talk about planning ahead, am I right?" Seeing the look on Viggo's face was priceless, and she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Seeing she wasn't about to elaborate, the older man pinched the bridge of his nose, now fully awake.

"My dear, would you be so kind as to explain to me why exactly it is that you drugged my wine weeks ago?" He knew he should be mad. Hel, part of him was furious just picturing the mess that would be his camp at that moment. Yet, maybe foolishly so, he trusted her. As reckless and crazy as she could act at times, Viggo knew the huntress better than anyone. Her mind was a mystery for most, but with time and patience, he had understood the intricate ways it worked. While she enjoyed teasing and messing with others, she never had any ill intent, let alone when it came to him. Whether she was aware of it or not, the young woman always went out of her way to brighten up Viggo's day in one way or another. He provided much-needed distractions from his paperwork, did her tasks without complaining whenever she noticed he wasn't up for games, and even took in noticeably bigger tasks just to give him some time to spare. So, if his partner had dosed him and brought him out into the middle of nowhere, Viggo trusted it was for a good reason.

Crow's grin faded slightly.

"For the brilliant man that you are, you can be kind of dense sometimes, you know?" Seeing he wasn't up for games, the young woman got up and sat next to him. The campfire gently cracked with the fire now at no risk of extinguishing by itself. She gently placed her hand over his, their fingers interlaced as she looked into his eyes with an expression he didn't usually see in her partner's eyes: worry. "Remember how you promised me we'd have a date together a few months back? You know, just you, me, and the stars, as you so romantically put it?"

Viggo cringed at the memory. Yes, he did remember. It was a constant thought that just waited patiently in the back of his head for whenever he would have time to actually treat her to a night alone with the both of them.

That had been months ago.

"I do, and I'm truly sorry I haven't had the time to—"

"I'm not bringing that up to make you feel bad." She quickly shook her head. "I know you meant to make some time and have some alone time together, but come on, you haven't even had the chance to have alone alone time. When was the last time you had a day off?" Thankfully, the question was rhetorical. Viggo wasn't sure she would like the real answer. His partner squeezed his hand softly. "You need to rest."

He was aware he was fighting a losing battle, but that didn't stop him from trying to complain.

"Crow, you and I both know there is no such thing as "taking a break" for—"

"See? Already looking for excuses. Do you realize just how tired you look?" Her free hand cradled his face, a gesture Viggo had grown used to from her. "I can't even remember your face without those eye bags, and don't try to tell me your health hasn't suffered from the constant overwork either. I know about those potions the healer gives you for your headaches."

"How did you—?" She didn't let him stop her, not now. He would hear all the thoughts she had kept in, and he'd stay quiet.

"And it's not only your body that suffers, which should be enough, to be honest, but your work too. You are getting sloppy, your plans are rushed, and sometimes not as optimal as they could be. I mean, the dragon riders are good, yes, but we both know you are capable enough to fight them and win. We could get the dragon eye back, but— you are just too tired, and you refuse to rest. Even Ryker is worried about you. Ryker! Do you know how bad you must look for your brother out of all people to be worried about you? I knew you would never agree to take a day off, so what other choice did I have but to kidnap you and force you—"

Knowing it wouldn't do any good to stop her, Viggo merely listened. Sadly, she had a point. About his appearance, his symptoms, his sloppiness, everything. He had done her best to ignore it, pushed those thoughts away until the newly started war with the dragon riders was over, but the situation had soon evolved far too much in too little time. He no longer saw a clear end to the fight, yet his sleep and rest remained secondary. The hunter wanted to be mad at her but knew she was right. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and despite it all, she had stuck by his side. Perhaps it was about time he acknowledged it.

"You are right."

"—And I don't want any excuses or—" Crow stopped her rants, looking at the man beside her. "Wait, what?"

"You are right." He repeated, this time delicately brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. "I have neglected my sleep and rest, and both my health and work have suffered because of it. I consider myself a responsible man and a capable leader, yet I have overlooked my own weaknesses. As such, I thank you for forcing me to take a day off. …Even if your method was more than questionable." Hearing the hint of humor in his tone, Crow's serious expression faded into a small smile.

"As if you'd have listened to me in any other case." She mumbled as she nuzzled her head against his neck.

The serious, cunning chief of the dragon hunters melted into her affections. Her free hand searched for his ear, toying with his lobe as she lazily peppered his neck and cheek with kisses.

"You are not lifting a finger today, understood?" She whispered into his skin, sending shivers down the man's spine. This woman knew him dangerously well, and he could tell she intended to abuse that power today.

"Understood, my dear."

Crow's smile turned into a full-mouth grin, and suddenly, he found himself laying on the grass, with a mischievous huntress kissing every spot of his face with a mix of love, excitement, and gentleness. Part of him still demanded he get up and go back to base, but with each kiss and nuzzle from his partner, those thoughts got quieter and quieter until he couldn't hear them anymore.

Viggo couldn't remember the last time he had had such a relaxing day. He had expected some of her usual tomfoolery, maybe some unexpected enemies ruining their day, anything. But, it had been the opposite. His partner had proven to be a skilled cook, somehow cooking the wild boar with expertise, a meal only improved by the wine Crow had brought to accompany it (this time, she swore it hadn't been tampered with). They talked as they ate, for once discussing anything but work, and Viggo felt his heart grow even fonder of the woman in front of him as he listened to her passionate rambles. He had missed this, he realized. Listening to her talk about her music, about her dragon, her dreams and thoughts, anything. The couple, for once, enjoyed a regular conversation over lunch, something the man deeply appreciated.

Afterward, the clingy hunter refused to let Viggo go, forcing him to nap in a pile with her and her dragon. While he wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea, even the grumpy Boreas forced him to lay down on his fur—and what a comfortable, fluffy layer of fur it was. The chief of the dragon hunters' felt like he was lying in a bed of clouds.

The spoiling didn't stop there, however.

Once up, the huntress did not allow Viggo to get up at all. With a gentleness uncharacteristic of her, she treated him to a slow, thorough massage that grew into rather intimate touches and a slight change of plans. In one way or another, the afternoon turned into an experience neither of them would forget any time soon.

By the time the moon was up, both hunters were tired but satisfied, their bodies tangled together as they enjoyed the few minutes of peace and quiet before flying back to the base.

Viggo was reluctant to admit it, scared that Crow would pull that drugged wine stunt again, but that afternoon had been precisely what he needed.

[green-crow]

I'm no longer gonna bring up the fact that I'm late to these things because I'm starting to realize there's no way I can catch up sweats

BUT! Day 7 is here! Almost 7 days late to make it more poetic

I think the reason this one took me so long, besides getting a god-awful assignment, was that I had no clue what to do with this prompt. But alas, here it is (also I'm trying out different ways to post my writing in here so if you see me messing around with the posts formats, yeah Idk what I'm doing but I'm trying my best)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Day 7: Chestnuts

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Summary: Hilda and Boreas go out into the forest to pick up chestnuts for Gothi, and the dragon worries about her rider's bottled up feelings.

Rating: Teens and Up Audiences

TW: Implied self-harm

Words: 2,100

Characters: Hilda Hávarðr (OC), Boreas (OC)

Boreas growled as he found another one, and her rider crouched next to him to examine the find. The burr was mostly brown yet had a soft green hue that hadn’t quite gone away yet. That and the fact that the nut itself peeked from underneath the spiky coat meant it was good enough to pick up. She carefully grabbed it and placed it into her basket along with the other chestnuts they had gathered.

“Good job, big boy. I’m sure Gothi will appreciate your help.” Hilda praised him as she petted her dragon’s neck, making the beast purr softly.

Raising to her feet, she brushed off the bits of dirt that had gotten on her pants and readjusted her coat. This year’s autumn was proving colder than usual, the wind taking advantage of any little entryway left in her oversized clothes to make her shiver. At least it wasn’t so bad as pure winter, when the cold made her suffer from a constantly stuffy and runny nose, and she couldn’t smell anything at all. Now, she felt some sort of relief as she caught the gentle, earthy tones of humid dirt that carried the air and reminded her of autumn.

Despite the persistent pain in her knee — always present right before and after heavy rains — she continued walking through the uneven terrain, her eyes peeled in search of more chestnuts to harvest. Gothi had sent her apprentice in a search for them; something about how they were helpful in remedies against inflammation or even digestive problems, though Hilda had the feeling the old lady just wanted an excuse to enjoy the sweetness they offered when toasted. Regardless of the reason, she had accepted the task, as usual. And as usual, she was stuck now with a dull and time-consuming chore, yet she couldn’t complain.

The young healer sighed as she grabbed another handful of chestnuts, always making sure they were ripe and not the toxic horse chestnuts —if she picked those up by accident, Gothi and her would be more than busy for the next days, given their poisonous properties. 

Boreas didn’t seem enthusiastic about the job either; then again, the woolly howl had a tendency to find many activities boring if they forced him to do something rather than nap and be lazy all day. But he was still there with her, something she appreciated greatly.

The wind picked up unexpectedly, a sharp swoosh breaking the stillness of the forest and making many trees shake and some more chestnuts and leaves fall, Hilda’s scarf swinging along in the direction of the sudden gust. She looked up, only to spot the black and red tailfins of a familiar night fury and another four dragons following closely. The distant laughter of the gang of teenagers carried on the breeze, fading as they soared past the forest'. Her gaze lingered up in the sky for a bit too long, snapping back from her thoughts only as her dragon gently headbutted her side. She smiled gently, giving Boreas a few pats on his head. 

“Let’s keep going, okay?” Her dragon huffed, letting out some mist out of his nostrils. She knew he didn’t approve of her dismissal. Hilda sighed. 

“Come on, we have barely filled this one basket, and we still have two more to go.” 

In protest, Boreas shot some cold air to his rider’s face, freezing the tips of her hair. She flicked it off and rolled her eyes at the beast. She knew where he was going with this, and she knew he was more stubborn than her. 

“Really, now? Can we not?” The dragon’s stare said more than words could. As usual, Hilda was the one to give in. “Fine, you win, you big ball of fur. But we are picking up more of these, too.” She insisted, grabbing another chestnut and tossing it into the basket.

The woolly howl followed, seemingly content with the deal, and looked at her rider expectantly. 

“I don’t even know what you want me to say.” she knelt down, examining the coat of a chestnut that had fallen into a pile of leaves. It looked rounder than the others, and as she tried to peel it she felt it was more complicated, too. Hilda left it on the ground, knowing it was a horse chestnut. “That I kind of wish I could be up there with them and fly around and have fun little adventures?” she huffed. “Sure, yeah, I guess I do. So what? Look at them. They are heroes. They are brave, strong, smart, capable, and they have done so much good for Berk. I almost died the one time I tried to do something by myself. They’ve earned it. I haven’t.”

Hilda’s voice didn’t hold resentment or judgment. Perhaps a twinge of jealousy, but deep down, she knew that would always be there, just as someone envies the friend with a prettier face or the neighbour with bigger muscles. Her tone did show frustration, however. Maybe at them, maybe at herself, but it was there. Boreas snarled, showing disagreement, and his rider let out a dry chuckle as she turned to face him. 

“What? You know it’s true. I mean, come on, do you seriously think I’d fit in there with them? I’m not strong; I’m not a warrior. I’m not brave either. The only thing I got is brains, and even then I’m probably dumber than Snotlout when push comes to shove. All I’ve done, all I’ve achieved, it was dumb luck or just a happy little accident. Fishlegs would have made for a better healer and Astrid would have made for a better Hávarðr and you would be better off with Ebba than with the mess that her big sister is. The hunters were right. I’m nothing if not a little mouse who sticks her nose where she shouldn’t. I could barely heal my little sister, and Hiccup is more capable with one missing leg than I am with an annoying but functional one. I’m not fit to be a Viking or a healer; I’m not made to be a Hávarðr, let alone a rider!”

The forest fell into a deep silence; the only sound to be heard was the wind gently brushing the ochre-coloured leaves now that both the girl and the dragon had stopped walking. The beast’s once challenging look had now softened into an almost pitiful glance. Hilda returned the look to her dragon, refusing to let any tears fall. He didn’t move, still not used to her outbursts, and neither did she. It hadn’t been the first one, far from it. She tended to bottle up everything she felt like it until she was too far gone and finally exploded. Sometimes, it manifested as anger that took out on herself, physically or verbally. Others, she sobbed herself to sleep. 

But there was something that had changed. 

Boreas took a step closer and nudged her stomach with his head. He purred and looked up at her, and despite not being able to communicate with her with words, Hilda felt a tender, soft feeling in her chest. It wasn’t the words that mattered to her. It was the fact that he was still there despite it all. 

He had met her at her lowest point, tricked by dragon hunters because of her childish naivety and unable to fend for herself, yet somehow determined to keep living and make it back to Berk, if only to heal her sister. And now, almost a year later, he was still there. He had seen her ups and lows —her laughter and tears, her relentless determination that made her work harder than she would ever admit, her glances at others with a hint of jealousy for fitting in so nicely while she fought to keep her place in the tribe, and the constant shadow of dread that loomed over her as if she was a fraud about to get caught at any moment. She had tried so hard for years but barely got anywhere. Even Hiccup, who she once considered her equal, was now seen in a new light and a true Viking. Because he was a hero and had earned his place in the village. 

Boreas, the beast that had spared her life, whether out of pity or compassion, had been there for her more than any of the Vikings she had known and helped all her life. He didn’t need her. He had no reason to stay. Yet he did. She was enough for him. 

Overwhelmed by her bottled-up emotions, Hilda crumbled into tears and fell to her knees to hug her dragon, clinging to his fur as if she was scared he’d fly away any moment now. The beast remained quiet, nuzzling his head against her cheek, tenderly brushing away the tears that fell down her face. The basket of chestnuts lay abandoned on the ground, quickly forgotten as the young healer found solace in her dragon’s company. She wasn’t a Viking, or a rider, or fit in in her own village, and her dragon didn’t care. She was Hilda, and that was enough. 

Boreas slept soundly next to her bed, the hut filled with a serene quietness no one dared disturb at those hours of the night. Hilda was the only one still awake by then, at least in her home, where everyone else had fallen asleep long ago. Her eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute, yet she remained seated on her chair, her eyes unmoving from the piece of paper in front of her. 

It had been months now since she last saw the dragon hunters, their territory far too remote from Berk to cross paths once more, yet her mind still toyed with the old offer. “Your tribe must hold you in high regard”, he had said, his hand shifting the hunter piece to face one of her own, “you seem like one skilled healer”. He had won the maces and talons game with a move she could have never seen coming, and had later let her walk into his brother’s trap, not bothering to stop her. Yet Viggo had warned her. In his own subtle way, the businessman had seen something in her and had given her a chance to free herself from that situation, an act of mercy or perhaps still part of his sick mind games. “Imagine the heights you could reach if only your people trusted you more. There is a world of wonders and knowledge for you to explore out there, little mouse. And I can provide it, if you so wish.” She knew he was deceiving, a cunning man with a silver tongue, someone who could sell sand in a desert. But she was curious. And she wanted to do more. She wanted to show everyone just how capable she was. She wanted everyone to notice that same side of her that her dragon and that dragon hunter had seen. 

Her eyes wandered towards her window, meeting the sight of the glorious meade hall, the pride and joy of Berk, the heart of the village. It was a place of unity and celebration, where everyone met and celebrated significant events and festivities, where the chief listened to his people and did his best to aid them. It was also where Hilda’s plan to heal Ebba had been turned down by her own and she had been forced to rely on no one but herself to save her sister from death’s grasp. Despite it all, the healer wanted to help them. She wanted to show she was worthy of their praise and attention, yes, but above all she just wanted everyone to be happy. She wanted to help Berk grow into something better. 

Stoick would have never agreed to her proposal of working with dragon hunters, potentially perilous enemies that went against Berk’s new values and morals. So she didn’t ask for permission. Hilda finished the letter she had been writing, the charcoal moving swiftly on the scroll, before she paused to consider her choice. Maybe the offer didn’t stand any longer after she had not only managed to escape the trap, but also get away with the very same dragon the hunters meant to keep. Maybe it had been too long already and the deal Viggo had once proposed to her was no longer available. Yet she secured the scroll close and prepared it to be sent to the northern markets the following day.

She would help Berk and earn their respect, no matter the cost.