The Lost King’s Legacy

The sun hung low over Berk, casting the village in warm, golden hues that illuminated the cobblestone streets and the thatched rooftops. Dragons soared through the air, their sleek forms carving graceful arcs against the backdrop of a brilliant sky streaked with amber and crimson. Their calls echoed across the village, mingling with the rhythmic clang of hammers in the forge, the laughter of children playing in the alleys, and the gentle murmur of waves lapping against the cliffs. On the surface, Berk was alive with the simple joys of daily life, but beneath it all, a heavy tension simmered, unspoken but unmistakable.

In the Great Hall, Hiccup stood near one of the tall, arched windows, his silhouette outlined by the fading daylight. His gaze was fixed on the horizon where the sea stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering with flecks of sunlight that danced like molten gold. Yet, his eyes were distant, clouded with thought. Toothless sat beside him, the Night Fury's tail swishing slowly against the wooden floor in a lazy rhythm. The dragon tilted his head, his golden-green eyes studying Hiccup with an almost inquisitive expression before letting out a soft, chirping nudge of encouragement.

Hiccup absently reached down to scratch behind Toothless's ear, his fingers moving in slow, automatic motions. His mind was far from the warm, bustling life of Berk. Instead, it replayed the events of the previous day like a storm on an endless loop—Eret's ship, the mention of Drago Bludvist. The name alone sent a chill through him, a weight settling over his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached, each step reverberating through the hall like a reminder of the presence that filled the space. Hiccup didn't need to turn to know who it was. Stoick, chief of Berk, carried himself with the kind of commanding authority that could be felt before he spoke. His broad shoulders and weathered face were a testament to the countless battles he had fought, and his voice, when it came, was steady and firm.

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" Stoick's tone was calm but carried the unmistakable edge of concern. His gaze rested on Hiccup, taking in the tension in his son's posture.

Hiccup's fingers paused for a moment on Toothless's ear before he straightened, turning to face his father. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes meeting Stoick's. "I can talk to him," he said after a beat, his voice steady but tinged with determination. "If he's building an army, it's because he thinks he has to. He doesn't have to see dragons as weapons. Maybe… maybe I can convince him otherwise."

Stoick's jaw tightened, the lines on his face deepening as his expression darkened. "Drago's not someone you can reason with, Hiccup," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of experience. "I've met him before. The only thing he understands is power. That's why he's building an army, why he controls dragons the way he does. To him, they're not living creatures—they're tools. Pawns in his game of conquest."

Hiccup stepped closer, his frustration beginning to surface. "Exactly," he countered, his voice rising slightly. "If we show him that there's another way—if he sees what we've built here in Berk—he might reconsider. People change, Dad. You did."

Stoick's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. He took a deep breath, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Change doesn't come to men like Drago. He's not a misguided fool, Hiccup. He's dangerous. His army isn't built on fear of dragons—it's built on fear of him. Do you understand what that means?"

Hiccup's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I understand that if we don't try, we're just letting him keep doing what he's doing," he said, his tone edged with defiance. "What's the alternative? Wait for him to come to us? Fight a war we might not win? That's not a plan—that's giving up."

Before Stoick could respond, the soft, measured sound of footsteps drew their attention. Valka entered the hall, her presence like a calm breeze cutting through the tension. She moved with a quiet grace, her Stormcutter fur cloak sweeping lightly across the stone floor as she joined them. Her gaze shifted between the two men, her expression contemplative, as though weighing their words before she spoke.

"Hiccup," she began gently, her tone soothing but resolute, "I know your heart is in the right place. You've always wanted to find the best in people, to believe that anyone can change. But Drago isn't someone you can appeal to with reason or compassion. He sees kindness as a weakness, and he exploits it."

Hiccup turned to her, his frustration clear in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. "So what, then?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "We do nothing? We let him come here and take everything we've worked for, everything we've built?"

Valka's gaze didn't waver, her voice steady and calm. "No," she said firmly. "We prepare. We protect what we've built, what we love. But walking into his hands… that would only strengthen his position. If he captures you, Hiccup, he gains more than just a dragon rider. He gains leverage. Against Berk, against the dragons, against everything you stand for."

The Great Hall fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words pressing down like the gathering storm clouds outside. Toothless nudged Hiccup again, his golden-green eyes full of quiet support, sensing the conflict within his rider.

Hiccup turned back to the window, his voice quieter now, almost a murmur. "Maybe he just needs to see it," he said, as though speaking to himself. "To see dragons as more than weapons or tools. If we show him…"

"You won't get the chance," Stoick interrupted, stepping closer to his son. His voice was firm, carrying the authority of both a chief and a father. "Drago doesn't see dragons the way we do. To him, they're nothing more than pawns to control and use. And you—" He placed a heavy hand on Hiccup's shoulder, his eyes locking onto his son's with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "—are his enemy. He won't listen. He won't change."

Before Hiccup could reply, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed through the hall, breaking the heavy silence. A villager burst through the doors, his face pale and his breath coming in short gasps. His voice carried the weight of urgency as he called out, "Chief! Riders! Ships—dozens of them—on the horizon!"

The room froze for a moment as the words sank in.

Stoick was the first to move, his voice cutting through the tense air like a war horn. "Sound the alarm!" he bellowed, his steps purposeful as he strode toward the hall's doors. "Get everyone to their posts!"

The echoes of his command seemed to reverberate through Berk itself, stirring the villagers into action. The Great Hall emptied in a flurry of motion as everyone rushed to respond.

Hiccup's heart pounded in his chest as he ran to keep up with Stoick and Valka, Toothless bounding close behind him. Outside, Berk had already transformed from its usual bustling self to a hive of frantic activity. Villagers were shouting orders, hauling supplies, and readying their defenses with practiced urgency. Dragons circled above in chaotic patterns, their keen senses already aware of the threat bearing down on their home. The air was electric with the tension of an approaching storm.

Hiccup barely registered the commotion as he reached the cliffside, where the sea stretched out endlessly before them. He skidded to a stop, his boots kicking up loose gravel as his gaze locked onto the horizon. There, cutting through the glinting waves, was the unmistakable sight of a fleet—a menacing armada of ships.

Rows upon rows of vessels lined the water, their dark sails billowing in the wind. The sigil of Drago Bludvist adorned the sails, a stark and ominous mark against the bright expanse of sea and sky. The ships were massive, their decks bristling with heavy weaponry and crawling with soldiers. Even at this distance, the sheer scale of the armada was overwhelming, and the distant glint of metal suggested rows of harpoons, nets, and siege engines primed for battle.

Stoick's face hardened, the weight of recognition settling on his features. "It's him," he said quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the crashing waves below.

Hiccup's heart felt like it had leapt into his throat. For a moment, fear surged through him, but it was quickly followed by a resolve that burned bright. His jaw set, his grip tightening on Toothless's saddle strap. "Then we fight," he said, his voice steady, though his mind raced with the enormity of the task before them.

Stoick's gaze turned to his son, his expression one of both pride and concern. "Yes," he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a chief's responsibility. "But we fight together. And we fight smart."

Valka stepped forward, her Stormcutter, Cloudjumper, landing beside her in a rush of wind. The dragon's four wings folded neatly as its sharp eyes scanned the distant fleet. Valka placed a firm hand on Hiccup's arm, her gaze locking with his. "This is no time for risks, Hiccup," she said, her tone gentle but unwavering. "We defend Berk, but we don't act recklessly. Drago is not someone you can negotiate with—not now, not like this."

Hiccup met her gaze, his expression conflicted but resolute. He nodded, though his thoughts remained tangled.

Behind him, the riders approached, their dragons landing one by one on the rocky outcrop. Astrid was the first to speak, dismounting Stormfly with a practiced ease. "That's an army," she said grimly, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as she studied the fleet. "A massive one."

Snotlout, ever brash, swung off Hookfang with exaggerated flair. "Good," he said, smirking as he patted the Monstrous Nightmare's neck. "That just means more targets for us to take down."

Ruffnut and Tuffnut dismounted Barf and Belch, their chaotic energy undeterred by the sight of the fleet. Ruffnut crossed her arms, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "I say we sink the big ones first. You know, make a statement."

Tuffnut nodded eagerly. "Yeah, let's show them why they shouldn't mess with Berk! Fire, explosions—maybe a dragon divebomb or two."

Fishlegs, still astride Meatlug, looked far less enthusiastic. His face was pale as he nervously scribbled notes in a small journal. "This isn't just some skirmish," he muttered, glancing at Hiccup with wide eyes. "That's a coordinated fleet—heavily armed, too. Those ships are built to take on dragons. We need a strategy!"

Lyra, seated atop Lexy, watched the fleet in silence. Her emerald eyes were calm but calculating, her grip on the Crystal Fury's reins firm. Lexy shifted beneath her, the dragon's shimmering scales catching the sunlight and refracting it into a dazzling display of colors. Lyra finally spoke, her voice quiet but edged with steel. "This isn't a simple raid. Drago isn't just coming for Berk—he's coming for its dragons. If we're not careful, this could end in disaster."

Hiccup turned to face them all, his voice cutting through the growing tension. "We need to be ready," he said firmly, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Stay together, protect each other, and do whatever it takes to keep Berk and its dragons safe."

Astrid nodded, her expression resolute. "We'll hold the skies, Hiccup. Just give the word."

Snotlout grinned, cracking his knuckles. "You've got it, chief. Hookfang and I are ready to fry those ships to splinters."

Ruffnut nudged Tuffnut with her elbow. "I call dibs on the biggest ship," she whispered loudly, earning a laugh from her brother.

Fishlegs, still clutching his journal, gave a hesitant nod. "We'll do our best."

Lyra guided Lexy closer to the group, the Crystal Fury's glowing eyes locking onto Toothless with an unspoken understanding. "We'll do more than our best," Lyra said. "We'll fight smart, and we'll fight as one. That's the only way we win this."

Hiccup met her gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. He mounted Toothless in one fluid motion, the Night Fury chirping softly in response. "Let's move," Hiccup said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

The dragons took to the skies in unison, their wings beating against the wind as they climbed higher. Below, Berk buzzed with activity as villagers fortified defenses and prepared for the coming storm.

Hiccup glanced back at the fleet, the dark ships growing closer with every passing moment. Despite his father's and Valka's warnings, a small part of him clung to the hope that there was another way—a way to stop this without bloodshed.