Hiccup's Point of View
The wind was sharp up here.
It carried the scent of smoke, salt, and something fouler—the stink of pretending.
I sat at the top of the highest cliff overlooking Berk, legs folded, one hand resting on my knee, the other idly trailing claws through the moss beside me. Below, the village buzzed with hollow routine: merchants setting up stalls, guards making rounds, warriors pretending to stand tall.
But I saw through it all.
They were preparing.
Or so they thought.
I could feel their tension radiating from the wooden walls of the arena, pulsing like a dying heart. Their eyes watched the sky, their ears listened for footsteps, their blades were already drawn behind their backs.
Fools.
Insects.
Playing at strategy.
Thinking they've cornered the dragon—when they've only walked into its nest.
"They truly believe I haven't noticed," I muttered aloud, more to the wind than anyone else. "They think I'll be distracted. That today will go according to their little plan."
I rose slowly, stretching my shoulders as I turned to face the shadows gathered behind me.
My Vanguard.
My family.
Luna stood with her arms crossed, lips curled in that wicked grin she only wore when blood was on the horizon. Her silver eyes met mine—hungry. Astrid stood nearby, battle dress gleaming in the light, hand resting on her dagger, gaze unwavering as she waited for orders. Freya sat atop the Nadder's back, giggling as the Speed Stinger circled her protectively.
And around them...
The sky shimmered faintly.
The trees rustled wrong.
And the shadows moved with purpose.
The Vanguard was here.
Waiting.
Loyal.
I inhaled deeply.
It was time.
"Veil," I said softly, and the changewing emerged from the shadows without a sound. "Go invisible."
Her body shimmered, light bending around her as her outline dissolved.
"You are to follow Luna and Freya into the arena. Stay close. If any one of those insects even dares to try something..." I let the word hang for just a moment. "Kill them."
Veil's eyes gleamed.
"But make them suffer. Use your acid—not your claws."
She dipped her head once, then vanished completely, no trace left behind.
"Astrid."
She straightened immediately, hands twitching for a blade.
"You'll follow them into the stands. Anyone that tries to touch you or Freya..." I looked her dead in the eyes. "Die."
She grinned.
Luna let out a low, approving hum.
Then I turned back to the rest.
The Timberjack spread its wings lazily, the Speed Stinger paced, the Scauldron bubbled at the base of the cliff, the Nadder's feathers flaring ever so slightly in anticipation.
I smiled.
"Everyone else... when I give the signal..."
I raised my hand, letting a bit of fire crackle across my palm.
"Roar."
"Reveal yourselves to these insects. Let them see who you are. Let them know."
I took one last look at Berk—those clueless villagers, those trembling warriors, that pathetic old chieftain still clinging to the illusion of power.
"Today," I said, my voice as cold as the sea below, "they'll learn who the true Alpha is."
—————————————————————————
The arena was a joke.
A theater of rusted chains, scorched stone, and desperation dressed in tradition.
I walked through the entrance like I owned it—because I did. Every step I took echoed with finality, with the kind of weight that only comes from truth. The villagers packed the stands, but their cheers died quickly.
They always did when I showed up.
Across the benches, a wide berth had already been cleared.
No one dared sit near them.
Luna. Astrid. Freya.
The three of them descended gracefully into the spectator stands like royalty—because they were. Freya skipped ahead with childlike innocence, settling between Luna and Astrid while playing with a dragon tooth braid Luna had woven into her hair. The moment they sat, the surrounding crowd shifted farther away, pretending it wasn't on purpose.
But I saw it.
They were surrounding them.
Poorly.
Two warriors on the left aisle. One near the upper bench. Another seated three rows back pretending to clean his axe for the fifth time.
Pathetic.
So pitifully obvious it was laughable.
This was Stoick's grand strategy?
I let my eyes scan upward, to the high ledge where he stood.
Right where I expected him.
His arms were crossed, his posture rigid, chin lifted like he still believed he had any authority over me.
He gave me that look—the one that said "I'm in control."
I gave him one right back.
The look that said, "No... I've already won."
Then, just to make it clearer—
I lifted my hand and flipped him off.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Clean.
The tension in the arena spiked.
That smug smirk on his face?
Wouldn't last long.
Not after today.
Stoick leaned toward Gobber and muttered something I didn't care to hear.
Gobber hesitated... then pulled the lever without so much as a word.
No speech.
No theatrics.
No grand welcome for the fight of the day.
Just silence.
And then—
BOOM.
The gates exploded open.
Flames burst out in a wave, licking across the walls as the Monstrous Nightmare stormed into the arena, its massive form wreathed in fire, wings flared, horns glowing with heat.
It climbed the dome's wall like a predator claiming its territory.
And when it reached the top, it let out a scream that shook the stands and dropped cinders from the sky.
Then—silence again.
Its head turned.
And its burning eyes locked on me.
The arena held its breath.
I stood perfectly still in the center of the pit, just staring back.
No fear.
No stance.
Just purpose.
And slowly, I reached up...
Unhooked the clasp at my shoulder...
And let my cloak fall from my body.
It hit the ground with a soft whump.
And the crowd gasped.
But I said nothing.
Did nothing.
Not yet.
Let them wonder.
Let them fear.