Chapter Text
This new dragon is something of a mystery.
They rescued him when they hit Viggo’s flagship last night, a successful raid, other than the part where Viggo wasn’t there. It felt like he’d outsmarted them once again. Ryker managed to escape on the only ship they didn’t sink, and as they watched the Hunters scramble out of the water, Hiccup noticed a dragon roaring in distress on one of the the shattered decks, sinking quickly.
Toothless dove, and dropped him on the planks, making the whole structure shake. The ship had been rent in half, and it was taking water fast.
“Hey there little guy,” Hiccup said, taking slow, wary steps towards him. He was an unknown species, but definitely a Strike class, almost akin to a Skrill or Songwing. No lightning, but that might have had something to do with the disoriented and panicked look in his eyes. “You’re free now, you can fly away.”
Toothless flapped his wings in demonstration and rumbled encouragingly, taking off for a second before dropping back down, rocking the unstable deck even further.
The dragon screeched, clearly distressed and confused, and flapped his wings in return. His movements were desynchronised and unsteady, and wholly failed to catch the air in any helpful way; the dragon was grounded. (Dragon root, Hiccup had assumed at the time.)
“Okay bud,” Hiccup said, stretching his arm out towards his snout, “I’m gonna see if he’ll let me approach.”
He growled at Hiccup, but cut himself off abruptly, taking a few unsteady steps back. Even that was uncoordinated, like he didn’t know how to use his limbs.
Hiccup eyed the rising water, and knew they didn’t have much time. “Please be friendly.” He took two steps forward, stopping just far away enough to let him choose to come forwards.
Purring coarsely, the dragon pressed his snout to his hand.
His scales were warm in the cold night air, and the full moon emerged from behind the clouds. With pale light, it revealed a jagged pattern that ran down the left side of his face, right through the eyelid and to the corner of his mouth.
“Who did this to you,” Hiccup murmured sadly, brushing his thumb under his blind eye. The other was a deep, chocolate brown, pupil slit and panicked. An unusual colour, in a dragon, but now wasn't the time for that. He breathed out evenly. “Toothless is going to carry you, okay?” he said, hoping that the dragon would understand his reassuring tone, if not his words. “And we’re going to bring you home.”
Which brings them to the present moment; all six riders in the arena on Dragon’s Edge, and the unknown dragon wilting under the observation, hissing at anyone who tries to get near. He’s resorted to curling up behind a couple of training barrels they left there, as though the he can’t stand the sight of them. Hiccup supposes that they are quite intimidating: he can’t get out of the arena; he’s surrounded by hostile human figures; he can’t know their intentions; and it seems they’ve put him in the same situation as the Hunters.
“I don’t know why it won’t warm up to me,” Fishlegs says sadly.
Snotlout scoffs. “Uh, I know why! It’s clearly untrainable and we should find some other island for it.”
“You’re just mad because it almost bit you,” Astrid points out reasonably.
That was a weird episode—Snotlout had been the one to get the dragon out of the temporary pen carved into the arena wall, and let it out into the arena. Hookfang had pushed him there, none too gently. In response, he had jumped up and slammed into Snotlout, making as though to close his jaw around Snotlout’s bicep then abruptly stopped, before his teeth even grazed the flesh, and scrambled back. He's refused to let any of them approach since, growling quietly in stops and starts.
“I, I don’t think we can just give up on him like that,” Hiccup interjects, frowning. “He seemed very reasonable last night. And those were much more stressful circumstances! I just—I don’t understand what’s upsetting him.”
“Or why it's acting like that,” Astrid says, pointing at the dragon, who has collapsed after trying to get up.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Tuffnut asks.
“Too obvious,” Ruffnut replies.
“Super clear.”
“The clearest it’s ever been.”
“Uh—mind letting us in on what’s so obvious you two?” Snotlout snaps.
The twins exchange a knowing glance, and simultaneously declare:
“It's clearly a baby!”
“It's clearly geriatric!”
Hiccup glances over at the dragon, who is clearly in his adult years, and the prime of his life at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I agree with your theory.”
“It might be dragon root? You did find him on a Hunter ship,” Astrid suggests.
“No, the effects of dragon root have never been documented to last this long,” Fishlegs says. “A dose so big that it would affect a dragon overnight would just kill them. I, I think he’s ill or something. Some sort of disorder that means he can’t control his body.”
“Uh, no, he’s just stupid.”
Hiccup hums, considering the options. Fishlegs might be onto something, but it just doesn’t line up. He clearly stopped himself from biting Snotlout, and his movements seem unpractised but not involuntary. “Do we think he might have been bred in captivity?” he finally suggests. “If he’s never been allowed to fly, and been kept in a cage since he was born…”
His theory isn’t airtight either—surely he’d have some idea of how to walk, even if he could only pace in a tiny cage, not to mention the fact that flying is instinctive to dragons, but it’s the best he’s got. Perhaps that ability can be lost, if a dragon is prevented from flying for too many years? And couple that, perhaps, with deterioration in the muscles from life in a cage...
He shakes his head. “Look, maybe it doesn’t matter why exactly he’s having so much trouble. Doesn’t look like we’ll be figuring it out soon anyway.”
“Especially since none of us can get close to it,” Astrid says.
“But I did—last night, he was perfectly calm, when in the claws of an unknown dragon, with an unknown human, right after he had been captured and hurt by a group of humans!” Hiccup complains. "He didn't try to fight Toothless once when we flew him back. It doesn’t make sense..."
She puts a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
With the dragon refusing to move and snarling at anyone who tries to approach, the others leave. Hiccup stays. He hasn’t tried to approach the little guy yet, and wants to test the theory that he trusts him. And, importantly, test it without Snotlout making fun of him for being egotistical and assuming he’s special when it comes to dragons.
It's not that he's "special," but he definitely presents as more dragon-like than the average human. Toothless constantly expresses affection by coating him in dragon spit gives him a slightly draconic scent, and the fact that his armour is made out of shed Edgewing scales gives him a slightly draconic appearance. Couple that with the ability to mimic Toothless' clicks and hums, and it's no surprise that dragons hesitate to immediately categorise him as a human. He hopes it'll give him an edge when it comes to befriending the dragon.
They’ve been watching from outside the arena, peering down from beyond the chains. Perhaps that’s the problem, being outside the cage. If he goes inside, perhaps the dragon will respond better.
And—he needs a better name for him than “the dragon.” Both the species and the individual.
“Alright bud, I’m going in.”
Toothless growls with displeasure, and a little bit of exasperation, but dutifully follows him into the arena. He cranks the door open, lowers it with a muted thud, and heads over to the stack of barrels.
“Hey, hey there little guy." No response, as expected, but Hiccup figured it was best to announce his prescence. The less startled he is, the better. "Or, not-so-little guy, I guess, you’re almost bigger than Toothless, remember me? It’s just me. And Toothless, but ignore him he’s just… he’s just here.”
Toothless huffs, but pads off to lie in a patch of sunlight, just close enough to jump in should anything go south. Hiccup rolls his eyes fondly at the position; he clearly intends to sneak his way towards the available food.
Hiccup doesn’t want to just… walk around the barrels, even though he could. The little guy has such limited control in the situation that it would feel cruel to expose just how flimsy his only cover is.
“Probably quite overwhelming, right? With so many of us around? That’s okay, I like some solitude too. Just me now. The others are… uh… I don’t really know to be honest. But, you know, anytime you want to come out you can, and I’ll be here.”
He hasn’t eaten since getting here, so Hiccup is getting slightly worried—the sack of fish they left with him overnight was knocked over, but uneaten. If he doesn’t warm up to anyone he may keep on refusing to eat. (Paranoia is common in captive dragons, whose food is often laced with poison.) And the fish they left out now smells quite bad—not that it bothers Toothless, who has made his way over and is happily eating like he hadn’t had a massive breakfast this morning.
The dragon growls softly, and finally decides to emerge, walking on unsteady legs towards Hiccup. He narrows his eyes, disdain and fear evident.
“There we go,” Hiccup murmurs, holding his hand out. “Don’t bite my hand off and don’t toast me, just come forwards and we can get along and find you somewhere nicer to sleep for the night.”
They hadn’t had anywhere except the training ring pen, not wanting to lock the little guy up in the stables with other unknown dragons, and not wanting to let him go. At the time, they’d thought the dragonroot was still in effect, and Hiccup didn’t want him to fall prey to the Edgewings or pass out whilst flying and drown.
The dragon lets him approach with reluctance, lashing his tail, but he makes no aggressive moves. “Yeah, you know me, you remember me. Waking up with Snotlout there was scary, right?”
The dragon snorts dismissively, as though he hates the idea. But, he lets Hiccup pet his snout, and gently scratch the bottom of his neck, where all—or at least most—dragons have a soft spot.
“Yeah, I’d hate waking up to him too. I punched two of his teeth out once, actually.”
At that the dragon laughs outright, which is good. It means he’s intelligent enough to gather that Hiccup is making a joke, and another point towards the theory he was raised in captivity. That sensitivity to the inflections of human voices and a familiarity with Norse doesn’t occur naturally in dragons.
“You don’t seem dangerous at all then,” Hiccup muses. “A bit uh, odd, and scared, but you’re not violent. What do you say to a tour of the Edge?”