Chapter Text
This is New Berk. Granted, it doesn’t look like much. Actually, it looks like nothing. But that’s a good thing. A very good defense mechanism. You see, New Berk was named the most powerful tribe of the century a few years ago. Naturally, there was a lot of competition for the title. And despite our reputation for being hooligans, we’ve grown to avoid violence. Well, some of us have. The chief of New Berk is one of them.
Because of his fondness for brainstorming, he set up quite a few barriers. All of them are creative. Like the fog. Created by Scauldrons under the sea, it blows out steam every hour. Then there are the blazing fences, supported by Viking and Dragon statues that are always on fire. There are also hundreds of towers and dragon riders circling the island. And if by some miracle an individual manages to get past the moat, the dragon riders, soldiers, and beefy Vikings, they still have to deal with the chief’s family and their fury. It’s happened before—just once, but that was enough to make sure the lesson was never forgotten.
But as hard as it is to sneak in, escaping is even tougher. Of course, it’s easier with a dragon, a Night Light in particular. But it doesn’t count if your father has a Night Fury. A very intimidating father who’s currently glaring at me… or rather, us.
“I’m sorry…?” I said, genuinely unsure what I was apologizing for.
“Why?” He seemed just as confused. So I stared blankly at him. I probably should’ve said something, especially considering his glare before he huffed out a resigned sigh.
“The dragon race, Åse. You missed it. Again.” Oh… that was a rhetorical question.
“But I’m not allowed to race,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re allowed to watch.”
“It’s not fun watching.”
“Of course, you’d rather win it, repeatedly, racing by yourself. That’s fun.”
“I won’t be racing alone!”
“Who’d want to race you, Åse?! You’d always win!” I know. Normally, winning races would mean you get to take part in them all the time. That’s not the case for me, though. I should probably explain a few things.
I wasn’t born a normal child. While everyone has something predicted about them at birth, Gothi looked at me, unsure whether to adopt a scared or worshipping face. She chose the latter, proclaiming I was to be named a goddess. My parents were seriously confused (I think Gothi speaking might’ve contributed to their bewilderment). They couldn’t understand why a premature infant like me should be called a deity. But they’d been wrong about my father before, so they let Gothi perform an out-of-this-world ritual to connect my heart with my mother’s, ensuring I’d survive. There were side effects—my mother could sense some of my emotions and thoughts, and we could talk in our minds. That’s probably how my father found out where I was, despite my best efforts not to think about it. But I didn’t sense her either…
“How’d you find me?” I demanded. He gave me a deadpan look before patting Toothless.
“Right… Thanks a lot, Toothless.”
“Like I had a choice, hatchling.” Toothless let out an apologetic rumble. Yep, I understand dragons. I can sense what other animals want to say too, but dragons are the easiest to talk to.
“I was here, though. I could’ve taken care of her!” Moonchaser, my Night Light, added. He’s one of Toothless and Snowfire’s hatchlings.
“It wasn’t about safety. Her sire—er, father—wanted her at the race. I trust you, as does Hiccup, to look after Åse.”
“Mind letting me in on the conversation?” Dad raised an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing important.” I waved him off. He rolled his eyes. Real mature, Father.
“We’re about to go through the fog. Åse, for the last time, no funny business!” He was referring to the time I had flown off while we were navigating the fog. I had a good reason.
“I told you, I can’t just stop my search—”
“Your search for the River of Truth. Right. Like it exists.”
“It does too!”
“Åse—”
“How long did the Vikings spend looking for the Nest?!”
“Åse!”
“How long did you spend looking for the King of Dragons?!”
“Åse!”
“Or how about you finding the Hidden World, a myth, which is the same as—”
“Åse, enough! We’re not having this conversation again!” His patience snapped. Good, I can escape when he’s distracted.
“Don’t think I’ll be distracted. I have a sharp eye on you. And Toothless, stop hitting me with your ear plates! You’re not helping her again!”
“Well, I tried.” Toothless mentally shrugged at me. I looked up as my dad’s glare shifted from Toothless to me. His green eyes seemed darker now. As we were enveloped by the fog, alone with Moonchaser and the darkness, I wondered why exactly he was so angry about me finding the river.
But a smaller part of me couldn’t help but wonder—was it anger, or was it fear?