Chapter 10
“What will we call this one?” Hiccup cradles the small slumbering dragon in his arms, its scales darker than the deepest night, absorbing the flickering light of the fire. The tiny creature’s breathing is steady, each exhale soft against his fingers.
It was the last to hatch, emerging from the pure black egg that had worried him for days. Now, up close, the hatchling looks even more striking, its midnight-colored scales shimmering with an almost purple sheen, unlike anything he has seen before.
Ellie leans over, staring at the dragon carefully.
“Eclipse?” she suggests, tilting her head as she studies its tiny wings.
Hiccup smiles softly. He runs his fingers down its spined back, feeling the warmth of new life.
“Yes. I like it.”
They sit together in comfortable silence, petting the hatchlings that waddle toward them, drawn to their warmth as the night air cools the cave.
Toothless watches over the remaining eggshells, his head resting against the stone, letting out a contented trill every so often.
Ellie shifts, adjusting the small green dragon curled in her lap. She named him Glade, after the lush, hidden forests she had only ever dreamed of seeing.
But now, her brows knit together as she examines him more closely.
“They look… different.”
Hiccup glances at her. “How do you mean?”
She frowns, running her fingers over Glade’s small, smooth horns, her expression one of mild confusion and deep thought.
“The dragons don't look like the ones the Targaryens have.”
That catches Hiccup’s attention.
“Glade kind of looks like Prince Daemon’s dragon, but the color’s wrong. And it’s not just that. Something about them just feels… different.”
Hiccup looks down at Eclipse. He had studied the Targaryen dragons from afar, had even stood face to face with Dreamfyre, and he hadn’t thought about it much then, but… Ellie was right.
The shape of their dragons’ snouts. The arrangement of their horns. The way they moved—instincts so familiar to him, but… foreign to this world.
His stomach twists.
“Well… Glade is a Grapple Grounder,” he says, carefully. “They all look different.”
Ellie blinks. “A Grapple Grounder?”
“Yeah, it’s a species of dragon.” He gestures toward Glade, still small but already showing signs of strength. “This one looks a little odd, almost like it was bred with another species. But they’re pretty much the same.”
Ellie’s frown deepens. “But… you said your world’s dragons weren’t here in Westeros.”
Hiccup stiffens.
The words hit him in a way he wasn’t expecting.
His gaze flicks to the rest of the hatchlings, now stumbling across the stone floor with tiny, clumsy steps. He had been so focused on their survival, so relieved that they had hatched healthy and strong, that he hadn’t truly looked at them.
And now that he does, his breath catches in his throat.
“I… don’t know.” His fingers unconsciously tightening against Eclipse’s warm scales. His heart is pounding, a slow, creeping sense of realization settling into his bones.
The dragons don’t just look different from Targaryen dragons.
They look like dragons from his world.
Not exactly. But close enough.
Ellie is still watching him, her own confusion evident as she strokes Glade’s tiny spines.
Hiccup forces himself to breathe, his mind racing.
These eggs had come from Westeros, he had seen them himself, stolen them from the dragonpit. They had been lying in those pots, kept warm by fire, untouched by time.
And yet. There they were each carrying similarities to different species from his home and some looking like the dragons he saw at the dragon pit. His heart lurches. How did species from his world end up here?
“Are you sure you can be on your own?” Hiccup asks for what feels like the tenth time.
Ellie lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes at his mother henning.
“Yes, Hiccup. I want to stay here. I want to help Toothless with the dragons. Besides, I’ll just be bored in Oldtown—I’ve already explored most of it.”
She says this as she chases the light blue dragon slithering around the cave like a snake, the little hatchling darting just out of her reach.
Hiccup huffs. They’ve been in the cave for over a week now, caring for the newborn dragons, guiding them as they awakened to their surroundings. The hatchlings had started to explore, their movements clumsy, uncoordinated, their wings still too weak for flight, their fire barely more than small puffs of smoke.
But they were learning.
And so was Ellie.
Hiccup catches her mid-run, gripping her shoulders to halt her chase.
He meets her eyes, serious now. “I’ll be back in a day or two. Be careful. Stay low, and don’t wander too far. If you’re going to fly, do it on cloudy days.”
She nods, but her face betrays her impatience.
Hiccup gives her a small shake, just enough to make sure she’s really listening before crushing her in a hug.
“Stay safe. And remember—if you’re in danger, light up—”
“—the pyre up top. I got it, I got it.” Ellie grins, patting his back like she’s the one reassuring him. “Everything will be fine. Besides, I’ve got Toothless with me.”
Said dragon croons from the side, flicking his tail at a careless hatchling that wandered too close to the cave entrance.
“See?” Ellie smirks. “We’ll be fine.”
Hiccup sighs, reluctantly letting go.
He grips her shoulder one last time, squeezing gently before stepping back. “Alright, alright. I’m leaving now. Be careful.”
She nods, already turning back toward the hatchlings as Hiccup finally heads out.
The trek back is long but familiar.
Hiccup moves steadily, passing open fields and winding roads, the sea breeze stronger the closer he gets to the city. He makes it to Oldtown before sundown, the towering Hightower casting a long shadow over the busy streets.
He stops at a few stalls, buying some supplies before making his way to the Citadel.
The maester at the entrance raises a brow at him. “No ward this time?”
Hiccup shakes his head, already turning toward the halls.
“Just me today.”
He finds his room, closing the door behind him with a deep exhale.
Setting down his pack, he begins to organize his belongings, neatly arranging the books and supplies he gathered.
Then, finally, he lays down.
A deep, bone-weary exhaustion settles into him.
The next few days will be long. And he still doesn’t have the answers he needs.
But he’ll keep searching.
Hiccup trails his fingers along the spines of ancient books, his gaze flicking over the faded titles as he wanders the dimly lit halls of the Citadel. For weeks, he has searched, flipping through endless pages, only to find scraps of knowledge, mentions of Valyria, vague accounts of its power, its dragons. But nothing on its origins. Nothing on what it was before the Doom. Nothing on the land of fire and ash.
The lack of answers gnaws at him.
He had visited Ellie a few days ago and found her thriving. She was stronger now, more capable than ever. The sword fit naturally in her hand, and the bow had become an extension of her arm. She was growing, physically, mentally, in ways he hadn’t anticipated when they first met. The ever-present sorrow that had once clung to her was slowly fading. That was what mattered most.
Hiccup’s fingers still as his eyes land on a worn leather-bound book—Essosi Land. His heart quickens. This could be something. He pulls it from the shelf, tucking it beneath his arm before grabbing a few more and returning to his usual table. Hours pass as he pours over the texts, learning about the rise and fall of ancient cities, the rulers of Essos, the shifting territories—but still, the land of fire and ash eludes him.
His days blur together, broken only by visits to Ellie and the dragons. The hatchlings are growing fast. Eclipse, the small midnight-colored dragon that reminds him of a Deadly Nadder, is getting stronger each day. Glade has begun using his fire, strangely, his concentrated flames act almost like a pulse blast. Darkwing, the cobalt-scaled hatchling, resembles the dragons of Westeros more than the others. The pale orange dragon, still unnamed, has four wings, a trait that reminds him of his mother’s dragon back on Berk. The light blue hatchling is slender and quick, its build eerily similar to a Razorwhip, though the scales are different. The last two, a red and a purple dragon, feel familiar, yet he can’t quite place their species.
They’ll be able to fly soon. Their fire will take longer to develop, but everything is progressing as it should.
Hiccup is deep within the towering stacks of books, pulling tomes from the shelves and skimming their pages, searching for anything of value. The Citadel’s library is vast, overwhelming in its sheer volume of knowledge, but it has yet to give him the answers he needs.
Ellie had returned to town with him this time, her reason simple—crab cakes. She had left him behind hours ago, wandering off to the markets with a glint of mischief in her eyes. He had let her go, trusting she’d meet him later, too engrossed in his research to protest.
The book in his hands details a land far east of Essos, a place shrouded in myth and mystery, its records fragmented. He’s so focused that he barely registers the presence of another person until a shadow falls across the pages.
He looks up, startled.
A man stands before him.
Tall. Pale. Silver-haired. Violet-eyed.
A Targaryen.
The man is older, perhaps in his sixties, his sharp gaze assessing Hiccup with an unreadable expression.
Hiccup straightens, choosing his words carefully. “May I help you?”
The man studies him for a moment before speaking. “You are the man my grand-niece sent here to conduct research on her behalf.” It’s not a question.
Hiccup hesitates only briefly. “Yes.”
The man inclines his head. “I am Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen.”
Hiccup blinks. A Targaryen maester? That is rare.
Vaegon regards him with a measured gaze. “And what exactly are you searching for?”
Hiccup meets his eyes, debating how much to reveal. “I seek knowledge of Valyria. And the land of fire and ash.”
Something flickers in Vaegon’s expression, but it’s gone before Hiccup can place it. Then, without another word, the maester turns sharply, gesturing for Hiccup to follow.
Hiccup scrambles to keep up, weaving through towering stacks and spiraling staircases. They reach a secluded alcove where a large wooden table is covered in scattered tomes and yellowed scrolls. Vaegon gathers a stack of books and thrusts them into Hiccup’s arms.
“These are the only books that contain true records of Valyria. The land of fire and ash.”
Hiccup stiffens.
The words send a sharp jolt through him.
They’re the same place?
His heart pounds as realization crashes into him. He looks up at Vaegon, who watches him with a knowing expression.
“Thank you,” Hiccup says, voice steady despite the storm inside him. “I’m truly grateful.”
The maester merely grunts, turning away. Hiccup understands the dismissal and quickly makes his way back to his table. His hands tremble slightly as he sets the books down.
Finally.
Finally.
After a month of searching, he has answers.
He pulls the first book toward him—and then Ellie bursts into the room.
Hiccup barely has time to register her flushed face before she speaks. “Something happened.”
His body goes rigid. He immediately scans her for injuries, but she seems unharmed, just breathless. “What’s wrong?”
Ellie swallows hard, her eyes wide. “I was down at the docks when I overheard something—Lady Laena Velaryon died a couple of weeks ago.”
Hiccup frowns. That explains the tension in the city, but why is she—
Ellie keeps going. “Her funeral was held on Driftmark. The entire royal family gathered there.”
Hiccup nods slowly. That must have been an event.
“But here’s the important part—Laena was the rider of Vhagar. And now that she’s gone, Vhagar was unclaimed.” Ellie’s voice drops lower. “And guess who claimed her?”
Hiccup already knows.
“Prince Aemond.”
Ellie nods. “Yeah. But that’s not all.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “On the way back, Rhaenyra’s sons and Daemon’s daughters attacked him. He lost an eye.”
Hiccup stares. “What?”
Ellie’s expression is grim. “Yeah. Word is, Aemond called them bastards, and they jumped him.” She shakes her head. “When Princess Rhaenyra demanded Aemond be punished, the King shut the whole thing down.”
Hiccup exhales, rubbing his temple. “So… no retribution for the prince’s mutilation?”
Ellie shakes her head. “Nothing.”
Hiccup scoffs. “That’s not right. Where I come from, a crime against an individual is answered by their family.” He frowns. “And what’s this nonsense about a stolen dragon? A dragon chooses its rider—that’s the bond.”
Ellie crosses her arms. “Exactly.”
Silence lingers between them. Finally, Ellie gestures to his stack of books. “What are you working on?”
Hiccup rests a hand over the worn covers, gripping them tightly.
“Hopefully? Answers.”
Hours later Hiccup stares down at the pages before him, his stomach twisting as he reads. His fingers tighten over the edges of the parchment, his breath slow and measured, though his heart pounds like a war drum.
Slavers.
Valyria was built on the backs of the enslaved.
He’s no stranger to slavery. He’s seen its echoes in Essos, read of the Free Cities’ reliance on it. He remembers old Viking stories, how some clans raided and took thralls, how Berk’s ancestors once walked the same dark path before changing. But this—this was something else entirely. Valyria was not a civilization; it was an empire of cruelty, where people were nothing more than tools for dragonlords to use and discard.
The realization leaves him cold.
In the flickering candlelight, he reads on, tracing the inked illustrations of towering dragon-forged palaces, vast fields worked by shackled men and women, and the high lords who ruled with fire and blood. He can't help but compare them to the Romans he had learned of back home, the empire his father had often cursed, their conquests, their excess, their collapse under their own weight.
A chill runs down his spine.
Beside him, Ellie is slumped over the table, her breathing slow, lost to sleep. He watches the steady rise and fall of her back and envies her ability to rest.
He closes the book and exhales, rubbing his temple. There’s more to read, but exhaustion tugs at him. Tomorrow. He’ll return to it tomorrow.
When morning comes, he sends Ellie back to the dragons, telling her he'll follow soon. Then he sits once more in the shadows of the Citadel, cracking open the book that had haunted his thoughts all night.
And there, finally, he finds it.
The Doom.
His eyes fly over the words, heart hammering as he takes in the cataclysmic account:
On the day of the Doom, every hill for five hundred miles exploded, filling the air with ash, smoke, and fire, killing even dragons. Earthquakes shattered palaces and temples, lakes boiled and turned to acid. The Fourteen Flames, the fiery mountains of Valyria, sent molten rock a thousand feet into the air, and red clouds rained down dragonglass. The cataclysm fragmented the Valyrian peninsula, breaking the land into smaller islands, creating the Smoking Sea between them. To the east, Velos and Ghozai on the Isle of Cedars were swallowed by a great wave.
Hiccup grips the edges of the book, his breath coming out slow and uneven.
It was more than just destruction. It was annihilation.
A land turned to ruin in a single day.
If ever there was a sign of the gods' wrath, this was it.
His gaze flickers to the detailed sketches, smoking craters where cities once stood, entire regions turned to blackened waste.
The books claim that no one who enters the ruins ever returns. That hardened sailors refuse to set foot near the Smoking Sea. That lost within the ruins are secrets, magic, treasure, knowledge locked away by the flames.
Hiccup shuts the book.
Here is his answer.
He grips his journal, flipping it open and hurriedly scratching down notes. Maps. Locations. Every detail he can gather before the knowledge slips through his fingers. His armor can withstand heat. Toothless can navigate the ruins. They can do it.
They have to do it.
By the time he finishes, the moon is high and the Citadel is quiet. He stacks the books carefully and carries them back to the small alcove where Vaegon works. The old man is gone, so Hiccup gently sets them aside, tearing a page from his journal to scrawl a short note of thanks before leaving.
He returns to his chamber, closing the door behind him. The small room feels too cramped, too still, but he doesn't waste time. He begins packing, separating what he needs and what he can sell.
Tomorrow, he’ll speak to the Maester and make his departure.
Tomorrow, he’ll return to the cave.
Tomorrow, he’ll tell Ellie.
They are going to Valyria.
The walk back to the cave is pleasant, the crisp mountain air filling Hiccup’s lungs as he moves with renewed energy. His mind, which had been drowning in anxiety and frustration over the past few weeks, is now alight with discovery. Valyria. The land of fire and ash. The answers are within reach.
His excitement carries him up the familiar path, the midday sun barely cresting the mountain peaks. As he nears the entrance of the cave, however, the peaceful atmosphere shatters into chaos.
"Give it back! Now!" Ellie’s sharp voice echoes off the cave walls.
Hiccup steps inside to find her standing rigid, pointing accusingly at the red dragon, who, rather than looking guilty, is holding her boot in its mouth, tail swishing with clear mischief.
Hiccup can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Wow, what’s going on here?”
“He’s a little thief!” Ellie huffs, her glare locked onto the dragon. The small creature tenses, muscles coiling like a spring, clearly expecting a chase.
Hiccup sighs, shaking his head, and turns to Toothless, who is lounging lazily by the fire, watching the younger dragons with an air of patience only an Alpha could muster.
“Little help, bud?”
Toothless cracks one eye open, exhaling a deep breath before letting out a low, authoritative growl. The red dragon flinches, releasing the boot immediately before scrambling away to hide behind a rock.
Ellie rushes forward, snatching up her boot and tugging it on with an exasperated sigh. “You’re lucky I like you,” she mutters at the dragon, who peeks at her from behind its hiding spot, completely unbothered.
She turns back to Hiccup, brushing stray hair from her face. “You find anything useful?”
Hiccup grins. “Yup. We’re done here.”
Ellie stills, eyes widening slightly. “Done?”
“Done,” he confirms with a nod. “We should head out in a week or two, once the dragons are strong enough to fly for longer distances. Turns out we had it all wrong—Valyria is the land of fire and ash.”
Ellie blinks, processing the revelation before a slow, eager grin spreads across her face. “Finally. We actually found answers.”
“I know, right?” Hiccup mirrors her grin, the excitement still buzzing in his veins.
Ellie glances at the dragons, who have started flapping clumsily from Toothless’ head to the ground, their landings still awkward but improving. “I’ll start gathering supplies for the trip,” she says. “They’re getting used to their wings, still flying low, but give it a little more time, and they’ll be ready.”
Hiccup watches as Eclipse attempts another glide, this time landing a bit more gracefully. “Sounds like a plan.”
With a content sigh, he moves to his bedroll, stretching out with a satisfied groan. “I’m gonna rest for a bit,” he mumbles, already feeling exhaustion creep in after days of constant research and travel.
Ellie lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as she steps toward the growing pile of supplies. “You earned it.”
As Hiccup closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of dragons fluttering and Ellie moving about the cave, a deep sense of accomplishment settles in his chest.
They were one step closer.
“What are we doing out here?” Ellie asks, kicking her feet idly into the cool water. The lake is hidden deep within the mountains of Dorne, nestled in a quiet valley untouched by roads or settlements. The moon hangs high, its reflection rippling across the still surface, casting silver light over the rocks and trees.
Hiccup stands at the water’s edge, hands on his hips as he surveys the lake. “The hatchlings need to learn how to hunt. Most dragons prefer fish, and this is a good place to start.”
Ellie watches as he turns to Toothless, adjusting something on the dragon’s tail, a faint metallic click sounding as the gear shifts.
“Alright, bud, we’re clear. Go get ‘em.”
Toothless lets out a sharp screech before launching into the air, his wings beating strong against the wind. The smaller dragons, startled but eager, scramble to follow. Their tiny wings flap furiously, some barely lifting off the ground before they gain enough height to catch the currents.
Toothless hovers over the water for a moment before tucking in his wings and diving straight down. He disappears beneath the surface with barely a splash, leaving behind only a swirl of disturbed water.
Ellie leans forward, squinting into the lake. A long minute passes. Then another. She starts to shift uncomfortably.
“They’re not gonna drown, right?” she asks.
Hiccup doesn’t look up from where he’s carving out new arrows. “No, they’re smarter than you think. They got this.”
Just as he says it, Toothless breaks through the water, shaking off the spray, a mouthful of fish wriggling between his teeth. With an easy flick of his head, he tosses them into the air and swallows them whole.
The smaller dragons watch, wide-eyed, their expressions comically envious. Toothless lets out a low rumble and gestures with his snout toward the water. He’s showing them—now it’s your turn.
Ellie stifles a laugh as the young dragons take the challenge head-on, throwing themselves into the water with wild enthusiasm. Some dive straight in, others hover awkwardly before belly-flopping, creating loud splashes that ripple across the lake.
A minute passes. Then two. Ellie frowns. “Hiccup.”
“They’re fine,” he reassures, calmly whittling the arrow’s shaft.
Another moment passes before the first hatchling surfaces, a triumphant shriek escaping its throat as it clutches a wriggling fish in its claws. Soon, the others follow, some empty-handed, others victorious. They land on the shore clumsily, soaking wet and panting, but they don’t seem to mind—especially the ones who successfully caught their prey. They devour the fish eagerly, their excitement clear even through their exhaustion.
Once they’ve eaten, the group settles into a peaceful lull. Ellie stretches out on a warm, flat rock, her muscles aching from the long day. The night air is cool, but the stone beneath her still holds heat from the sun. She watches the sky, the steady rhythm of the water lulling her into a drowsy haze.
She’s on the verge of drifting off when Hiccup nudges her shoulder.
“We should get going. Don’t want to stay out too late.” He offers her a hand. “We’re all flying back—it’ll be a good training exercise.”
Ellie groans but takes his hand, letting him pull her up. They walk back to Toothless, quickly climbing onto the saddle before taking off.
The smaller dragons follow, still shaky but far more confident in their wings than before. Ellie watches them from over her shoulder, gripping the saddle tightly whenever Hiccup makes a sharp turn. The hatchlings weave through the air, exhilarated from their first real hunt, making small dives and quick, playful spirals.
By the time they reach the cave, Ellie is exhausted. She barely registers Hiccup lifting her off the saddle, carrying her over to her bedroll.
She falls asleep to the soft chirps of baby dragons, the distant crackle of the fire, and the quiet sound of Hiccup’s footsteps as he moves around the cave.
The wind whips against Ellie’s face as she guides Toothless through the clouds, her grip firm on the saddle’s handles. The sky is painted in brilliant shades of orange and pink, the sun beginning its descent. She glances to her side, where Glade flies smoothly alongside them, wings steady, each movement precise. He had taken to Toothless and Hiccup’s lessons with ease, a diligent student who rarely strayed too far.
A sharp screech draws her attention upward, Darkwing and Eclipse are at it again, weaving through the sky, using the thick clouds as cover for their game. Eclipse, ever the trickster, vanishes into a misty patch before lunging out, claws extended, aiming for Darkwing’s back. Darkwing, the most boisterous of the dragons, takes the scare with a loud screech, responding with dramatic dives and sharp turns.
It had been a week since they had learned to hunt. The dragons were slowly getting better at flying and tracking prey. Today, Ellie had decided to get more flying lessons in with them, bringing three of the seven hatchlings along.
They continue soaring through the clouds, Toothless demonstrating a few maneuvers that the younger dragons try to copy. When Ellie decides it's best to start heading back, she leans lightly against Toothless' back, soaking in the warmth of the setting sun. The air is peaceful, calm, almost hypnotic.
Then Toothless jolts beneath her.
Ellie lurches forward, gripping the saddle handles tightly to keep steady. The hatchlings, sensing the shift in energy, begin to slow, their chirps turning wary. Toothless’ sharp gaze is locked on something below.
Ellie leans over, squinting in the fading light, trying to catch sight of whatever has him so tense. She barely has time to process what she sees before something bursts through the clouds.
They all rear to a stop as something bursts through the clouds. Ellie instinctively raises her arms to shield her face. When she lowers them, her gaze locks onto a pair of striking purple eyes.
The shifting clouds make it difficult to see clearly, but she can recognize the boy across from her as a Targaryen. He sits atop a dragon that vaguely resembles Darkwing, perched on a saddle that looks utterly ridiculous. He stares at her in shock, his wide eyes darting between Toothless and the smaller dragons, who screech at the sight of another dragon in their midst.
Before he has time to react, Ellie yanks her helmet on and pulls hard at the handles on Toothless’ saddle, sending them into a sharp dive. The flapping of smaller wings follows, and she can only pray the hatchlings are keeping up. Her heart slams against her ribs when a deafening roar erupts above, and a massive shadow streaks after them.
She grips the saddle so tightly her knuckles turn white. “Get us out of here!” she shouts over the wind.
Toothless moves at an impossible speed, diving and twisting through the air with breakneck precision. Ellie barely registers the frantic screeches of the hatchlings, but their continued cries reassure her that they’re still there, still following. She squeezes her eyes shut and clings to Toothless with everything she has.
She hears a low grumble from beneath her, followed by the startled shrieks of the hatchlings, then suddenly, the sound of their wings disappears.
Ellie’s eyes snap open just in time to catch a blur of claws and white hair before everything goes black.
Hiccup sits by the fire in the cave, watching the four unnamed hatchlings as they sit in front of him, their heads tilting curiously. He places a small piece of wood before each of them, then grips Inferno in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he ignites the sword, setting his own piece of wood ablaze before extinguishing the blade.
The hatchlings seem to catch on, turning to their own wood and attempting to spit fire. The orange one gets it first, a small but steady burst of flame lighting up the wood in front of it. The others watch for a moment before turning back to their own attempts, determination shining in their wide eyes.
But before they can try again, a sudden burst of shrieks fills the cave.
Hiccup turns just in time to see Glade, Eclipse, and Darkwing crash through the entrance in a flurry of frantic wings and piercing cries. He stands quickly, gathering the younger dragons into his arms as they screech like banshees, their tiny bodies trembling.
"Calm down!" he calls, voice firm but gentle, trying to ground them. It takes a minute, but the three finally settle, panting and twitching as they press against each other.
"Where's—"
A familiar screech cuts him off.
Toothless.
Hiccup spins toward the entrance just as the dragon lands heavily, his pupils wide with alarm. And on his back, clinging desperately, is Ellie.
She’s crying.
Hiccup rushes forward, reaching up to carry her off Toothless, but as soon as she’s in his arms, she collapses against him.
"Ellie, what happened? Your face—are you hurt? What’s going on?" His fingers ghost over the smear of blood streaking her jaw. A shallow cut, but the sight of it makes something in his chest tighten painfully.
Tears streak down her face as she gasps for breath. “He saw us—Daeron and T-Tessarion. We ran, but he chased us, Hiccup. He almost got us.” Her voice cracks. “My helmet—it was ripped off. He almost had me, t-then Toothless did a barrel roll and shot a plasma blast at him. We lost them.”
Ellie’s grip tightens on his tunic, small fists curled into the fabric as she buries her face against him.
Shit.
They have to leave. Now.
Most of their supplies are already packed, and the dragons, though still young, can make the flight.
Hiccup wraps her up, cradling her close, his hand smoothing over her back as he whispers, “Oh, baby girl. You’re okay, I got you.”
She hiccups against his chest, but her breathing slowly evens out.
“We're going to be okay," he says, steady and sure. "But we have to go.”
Ellie nods against him, wiping at her face. She swallows hard, then pulls away, straightening. She doesn’t hesitate, just turns and begins gathering her things with quiet efficiency.
She was strong. She never cried. Not like this.
He had seen war, death, dragons, but this, this broke something in him, that he had no time to dwell on.
Hiccup moves quickly, securing their packs and making sure the dragons are ready. Within half an hour, they’re in the air.
Ellie sleeps against his back, her fingers still knotted in his shirt, as they leave Oldtown behind.
Shit.