Chapter Text
A weak croak sounded from the Night Fury’s throat, ensnared in tight ropes that sliced uncomfortably over and between his midnight-black scales. The grass beneath him tickled his side, filling him with the urge to itch or roll over to relieve himself of the unwelcome tingling, but he could hardly move. He was in an awkward position, on his side with a wing stuck in a lifted position over his back, and his joints ached with stiffness.
This had all started with the raid on this isle, commanded by the Red Death, the queen of their nest. The tyrant orders her dragons to foray nearby islands, those belonging to the vikings, seemingly unable to care less if some lives are lost or not— on both sides. The dragons have to do her bidding, obliged by her calls, as an alpha species. But in the end, regardless of if they obey her or not— if they do not bring back sufficient foods, they are eaten. The night fury shudders slightly at the hazy memories of dragons being devoured without a second to process.
He had been covering for the other dragons as they flew down to take food from the village, lit up in the night. That was his job. Blasting watchtowers, keeping watch on the spectacle, though keeping himself thoroughly camouflaged with the darkness of the sky. He cursed himself for not noticing the bolas flying up at him until it had been too late, and he found himself plummeting through the array of trees beneath him. He struck branches, tumbling roughly through greenery until he finally landed in a heap of grass. His tail ached distinctly, but the night fury couldn’t check if he wanted to.
His head pounded lightly with the repeated, faraway calls that echoed all the way from that godforsaken volcano, which was hidden by thick clouds of fog and mist, and a multitude of tall, towering sea stacks that create a maze near impossible for humans to get through. It was the Red Death’s lair, where she waited for her dragons to come and drop meals into the hole she loomed in, the slothful beast perhaps unable to do something herself for a change. He settled on blaming her for his current state, and obviously, also the viking that had shot him down. Perhaps it had been one of those beefy, tall humans— most likely on their way down here to kill him right now. He temporarily thought back to the other dragons he had watched raid the village, and wondered if they had died, or gotten captured— Suffered more casualties without the Night Fury’s usual cover.
His earlier thought on who had downed him had been proven wrong, however, as his ears pricked up at the faint voice that came from within the forest surrounding him, a few hours later. The sun had begun to rise by now, early in the morning. The voice was young. Somewhat nasally, and with a frustrated quality as the boy exclaimed about being despised by the gods, or something. The Night Fury considered applying the comment to himself, and silently decided it wouldn’t be too far off. His uneventful life, about to end, after spending it serving some vicious dictator of an alpha. All coming down to a walking fishbone, no less. He was able to identify the scrawny boy before him as the one who shot him down a few hours back.
“Oh, wow. I- I did it. Oh, I did it!” The Night Fury heard the viking boy exclaim, and cracked an eye open to see him clutching a dagger between his fingers as he slowly approached the Night Fury on the floor. “This fixes everything! Yes! I have brought down this mighty beast!” he continued, and raised a leg to step against the dragon’s face. The night fury’s irritation flared. The boy must think he’s dead after that fall, and in retaliation, he roughly shoves the boy back with the little movement he could muster, listening to the cry of alarm that slipped from him. “Whoa!”
There was a beat of silence between them, in which the boy shifted, clumsily rising from the rock he had backed himself against. His dagger was still held firmly in his palm, as he walked up to the downed dragon again. The Night Fury, despite everything, could not help the fear that slipped into his gaze, though he remained still and absolutely silent as he stared up at the viking. He didn’t quite want to die yet. But oh well. At least this way was better than being devoured by the Red Death or something, he thought, letting his eyes flutter shut once more and his head loll gently to the side.
It was just until he heard a low, defeated murmur, and then the sound of rope being cut hurriedly, that his eyes snapped open and to the fishbone-like human. He had not killed him. A trick? Was he sparing his life? Regardless of whatever stupid reason the human had for releasing him— the moment the night fury was free from his binds, he shot up and pounced onto the viking boy, pinning him against the nearby rock. At first, the Night Fury’s aimed to just kill him and go on. Instead, he was stupidly rethinking the situation. The fear that filled the boy’s green eyes— the color somewhat matching the dragon’s own— reminded the night fury of himself, and he found himself merely roaring in the lad’s face in the end, before turning and flying away, albeit with difficulty. Something had happened to his tail after the fall. He did not look back to check.
Some time passed, and the Night Fury was exhausted. He had spent nearly all his energy trying to fly, to soar as easily as he once had over the tall stone walls of this cove-like area that now served as his prison. There was a moment in which he blinked, and suddenly he became a bit dizzy. Following up with another dazed blink, he suddenly found himself in a hall.
The Night Fury shot up, an alarmed grunt escaping him. He heard some roars of similar surprise nearby, and he whipped his head in that direction, settling on following the sound until he reached the main area.. where it seemed a couple hundred more dragons were all gathered. He immediately recognized a few of them. The Nadder, Nightmare, Zippleback, and Gronkle. Those were some of the dragons that had been in the raid last night, he noted, and lowered his head as they noticed him. He wanted to walk away first, but forgot about that option once one of them approached him. Pretty quickly, too. How eager.
“Well, if it isn’t the prince,” the Monstrous Nightmare comments with a hiss, tilting his head at the Night Fury, who growled in reply. “Where did you disappear to last night? We got caught after you stopped covering for us.” The Nadder swiftly cut the Nightmare off, walking up to stand before the others. There were a few marks visible on her neck and wings, those of chains they had most likely been restrained with until.. whatever this was. The Night Fury decided not to comment on them, lest he unintentionally agitates her by commenting on a flaw in her appearance. Besides, she and the Nightmare already looked pretty unhappy, and he could not say he blamed them. The night fury could say this group of dragons wasn’t too bad— they could even get along sometimes.. in the few moments they are not busy carrying out duties for their ‘queen.’
At his silence, she urges him impatiently on with a wing.
“I was shot down,” he grit out. He had been hesitant to say it. After all, the Night Fury? Shot down by some human? It was preposterous. His eyes narrowed at the incredulous tilt of her head, and then he exhaled sharply when the Nightmare casually shoved past her.
“Why didn’t you fly back up then, huh?” The Nightmare retorted before the Nadder could get another word in. The Gronkle looked disheartened, standing close to the other female dragon, while the Zippleback just looked the Night Fury over, both heads noticing the missing tail fin no other dragon had yet noticed. “Ooooh,” they hum in unison, leaning a little closer to the black-scaled dragon, who growls back.
The Night Fury stiffened as the hall abruptly fell quiet, all eyes drawn to the glowing runes now appearing on the far wall. They shimmered like firelight, shifting from a deep amber hue to a soft gold. Ancient, winding symbols etched themselves across the surface, spiraling outward in intricate patterns that pulsed gently, as if alive. The runes were unfamiliar to most of the dragons, but their meaning seemed to unfold in their minds like an unspoken language. A low, steady hum filled the air, and an unseen voice—neither human nor dragon—spoke directly to them, resonating in their very bones.
“You are here to see what is to come,” the voice intoned, calm yet commanding. “To witness the path that has been carved by your actions, and the actions of those who hunt you.” The Night Fury narrowed his eyes, his tail twitching behind him. The voice wasn’t speaking in words he understood, yet he could feel the meaning, clear as day. “You will not leave this hall until the story has been shown,” the voice continued. “Watch, and learn what choices shape the future of your kind, for it is the will of the gods.” As the words faded, the runes shifted again, forming an image that looked somewhat like the outline of the isle they had most recently visited. The dragons collectively tilted their heads, some stepping closer for a better view. The towering cliffs, the deep forests, and the humans who always fought them— all familiar enough for the dragons to recognize and growl lowly, some beginning to settle into seated positions around the hall. The runes glowed brighter, casting long shadows across the hall. Images began to ripple within the light, scenes forming like reflections on water. The Nadder shifted uncomfortably beside the Night Fury and the other dragons of their ‘group,’ glancing from the Night Fury to the images. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice sharp, though there was a flicker of unease in her tone. The Night Fury found himself relating to it. “It means we’re trapped here, obviously,” the Nightmare snapped, his wings twitching irritably. “And they’re going to force us to watch this… whatever this is.”
“You have ten minutes to settle in.” the runes read, before fading.
The Night Fury shifted uneasily, his wings rustling at his sides as the runes disappeared and only the paused vision of the mirage remained, leaving the hall dim with blue light once again. He could feel the gazes of the other dragons on him, expectant and curious. The Nadder was the first to break the silence, of course.
“So, what do you make of this?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not entirely unfriendly. Her crest flicked as she eyed him, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. “Some kind of human trick, maybe? You seem to know more about them than the rest of us.”
The Night Fury huffed, narrowing his eyes at her. “I know as much as you do,” he replied curtly, his tail flicking behind him. “Which is nothing.”
“Oh, please,” the Nadder shot back, stepping closer and tilting her head. “You’re the queen’s favorite. If anyone here’s got an inside scoop, it’s you.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” the Nightmare interjected with a snarl, his wings flaring slightly. “He’s too proud to admit he doesn’t know what’s going on.”
The Night Fury growled, baring his teeth slightly, but before he could snap back, a soft sniffle interrupted them. The Gronkle, standing a little apart from the group, wiped at her nose with a wing, her eyes wet with tears.
“I don’t like this,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “It’s so… weird. And scary. What if we’re all trapped here forever?”
The Nadder softened, if only slightly, turning toward her with a sigh. “Pull yourself together,” she said, though her tone was more reassuring than biting. “It’s probably just some… I don’t know, viking magic or something. it’ll wear off eventually.”
“Viking magic?” One of the Zippleback’s heads snorted, the other cackling in agreement. “Yeah, right! More like insane magic,” the left head said, twisting its neck toward the right. “Or maybe it’s aliens,” the right head added, grinning wildly.
The Nadder rolled her yellow eyes. “You two are completely unhinged.”
“Thank you!” the Zippleback’s heads said in unison, clearly taking it as a compliment.
The Night Fury groaned softly, feeling his patience thinning by the second. “Does it matter what this is?” he snapped, his voice low and sharp. “We’re stuck here. Fighting about it won’t help.”
“Oh, how noble,” the Nightmare muttered sarcastically, his tail lashing against the stone floor.
“Oh, shut up,” the Nadder retorted, glaring at him before turning back to the Night Fury. “Fine. We’ll wait and see, but if this is some kind of trap, you’re getting us out of those viking cages and explaining it to the queen when we get back.”
The Night Fury ignored her, choosing not to say anything about the fact his tail was injured, and he would be unable to fly in the end.