Hella's Point of View
The chirping reached my ears a moment before I felt the garden's response—a ripple of something I could only describe as anticipation running through the roots beneath us, the flowers around us. My domain, which had accepted my hatchling so completely, was now preparing to welcome whatever was coming.
Clever thing, I thought, glancing down at the purring boy in my lap. You've made quite the impression on more than just me.
"Stay calm, little one," I murmured, though he was already sitting up, his eyes bright with recognition and joy. To the garden, I sent a silent command: These companions are his. They are welcome. Do not harm them. Though it seems that it was not needed.
The spider lilies tilted slightly toward the cliff wall, as if turning to greet arriving guests. Even the lake's surface stilled, the souls within growing quiet with what might have been curiosity.
Then I saw it.
A black blur descended the cliff face with an impressive speed for a creature of midguard, moving like liquid shadow across the vertical stone. It hit the grass at the cove's edge and rushed toward us, a missile of coiled muscle and predatory grace. In the space between one breath and the next, it halted—stone-still, barely a wingspan away.
A baby Speed Stinger.
I knew the species from my observations of this realm's creatures—hunters of remarkable speed and coordination, pack animals with fierce loyalty to their own. But this one... this one was different.
Her scales were not the common blue-green of her kind. They were black—deep and absolute, swallowing light like a fragment of the void between stars. Her underbelly shimmered with scales of rich, living purple, and her eyes... oh, her eyes were magnificent. Purple orbs with slitted pupils of darkest black, fixed now on the boy in my arms.
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For one perfect moment, she only looked at him, and the joy in that gaze was unmistakable. Her tail whipped once, twice—a dog's happy wag translated into draconic form.
Then she noticed me.
The shift was instantaneous and absolute. Her eyes narrowed to venomous slits, the purple irises contracting around pupils that dilated with immediate, primal threat-assessment. A snarl curled her lips back from rows of gleaming teeth. The muscles beneath her black scales coiled tight, ready to spring.
Possessive, I noted to myself with intrigue, I was neither threatened nor offended. It was clearly deeply bonded with my child.
Before I could respond to it or before I could even decide if a response was necessary—the air filled with frantic flapping. So I looked up to its source.
And stopped as confusion hit me.
A creature descended from the cliff's edge, and for the first time in years, I beheld a dragon I did not recognize.
She was as big as big dog, if a dog could be forged from midnight and starlight. Her scales were the deepest black, absorbing the cove's ambient light, but her belly glowed with soft, radiant violet, pulsing gently like a living ember. Curved twin horns spiraled back from her head, elegant and proud, matching the wide, bat-like wings that beat the air in shades of shifting purple—now deep amethyst, now pale lavender, depending on how the light caught them.
Her eyes were bright amethysts, sparkling with playful curiosity even as she descended. A toothy grin revealed small, sharp fangs—adorable rather than threatening, like a kitten showing off its tiny weapons.
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She landed beside the Speed Stinger, and immediately her attention fixed on Hiccup. She crooned—a sound so beautiful it nearly stole my breath away. It wasn't merely a vocalization; it was music, a series of rising and falling notes that wove together into something haunting and sweet. It sounded as if she were singing, truly singing, and the cove itself seemed to lean in to listen.
Remarkable, I thought, genuine wonder piercing my heart. A miniature siren in the body of a dragon.
But the moment of musical peace shattered.
The tiny dragon, lost in her greeting song, had not yet noticed me. The Speed Stinger, however, had not stopped growling—a low, continuous rumble of warning directed squarely at my position. The little one's song faltered. Her amethyst eyes, now tracking her companion's gaze, slowly lifted to find my face.
Confusion first. Then—as she registered that I was holding Hiccup, that I existed in proximity to her boy—her eyes narrowed to perfect matches of the Speed Stinger's hostility. A hiss, tiny but unmistakably fierce, escaped her toothy grin.
Two dragons, one black as death and one dark as midnight, both radiating pure, undiluted threat in my direction.
I was... delighted.
Before I could savor the moment further, Hiccup stirred. He slipped from my lap—reluctantly, I noted with satisfaction, his body leaning toward me even as he moved away—and padded toward his protectors on bare feet.
"Girls, relax."
The word girls caught my attention. Both were female, then. And the ease with which he spoke to them...
"She is nice," Hiccup continued, and I watched him process his own words in real-time. "She is not like those disgusting humans that always hurt me."
He paused. His brow furrowed. I saw the thought land—disgusting humans—and I saw him mentally categorize himself away from those disgusting mortals, I saw confusion ripple through his expression.
The merger deepens, I observed with quiet satisfaction. He's beginning to see himself as separate being from them.
Before he could chase that thought to its conclusion, he was interrupted forcefully.
Both dragon hatchlings moved at once—the Speed Stinger with blinding speed, and the tiny singer with a flutter of purple wings, they both tackled Hiccup and he went down in a heap of laughing boy and enthusiastic reptiles. His laughter rang through the cove, pure and unguarded, as they licked his face, nuzzled his neck, crawled over him like he was the most precious thing in their world.
"Girls!" he gasped between giggles. "Relax! I'm not going anywhere!"
No, I thought, a warm, possessive glow kindling in my chest. You're not. None of you are.
And then I noticed their pattern.
It was so precise, so perfectly coordinated, it might have been choreographed for all I know. While one cuddled and licked and claimed Hiccup's attention, the other stared at me—unblinking, unwavering, a living sentinel daring me to approach. Then, as if by silent signal, they would switch. The cuddler would become the guardian; the guardian would become the cuddler. Hostility and affection, rotating in perfect sync.
They were tag-teaming me. A two-dragon defensive rotation designed to ensure their boy was never unguarded, and never vulnerable.
A chuckle escaped me—low, warm, genuinely amused. "Oh, little ones," I murmured. "You are magnificent."
Hiccup, now sitting up with a dragon in each arm—the Speed Stinger still glaring daggers, the singer now the one receiving cuddles—looked at me with those impossible green eyes.
"Girls," he said, his voice carrying that new, melodic resonance, "this is Hella. Please be nice to her. Please? For me?" He hugged them both, nuzzling between them. "I know you don't like others being around me for some reason—"
Both dragons chirped in unison, a sound of absolute, indignant agreement. Yes, we don't like others being around you. And yes, there's a reason. The reason is that you are OURS!!!
"—but she's different," Hiccup finished, completely missing their possessiveness. "She's my Hella. So please?"
My Hella.
The words landed in my chest like a physical blow—warm, staggering, perfect.
Then I watched him process what he'd just said outloud.
It happened in stages. First, his eyes widened slightly, the green irises dilating as the words echoed back at him through his own mind. Then his cheeks—already slightly flushed from the excitement of his dragons' arrival—began to darken. The color spread like sunrise across water, creeping from his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose, then outward to his ears, his forehead, even down his neck where I could see it disappearing beneath his collar.
By the time the blush reached its zenith, his entire face was a shade of crimson I hadn't known human skin could achieve. It was magnificent. It was adorable. It was absolutely irresistible.
"Ohhh?" I let my voice curl around the word like smoke, slow and amused and deliberately teasing. "Is that so? I am yours now, little hatchling?"
He opened his mouth and No sound came out. He closed it. He opened it again. His lips moved soundlessly, forming words that refused to become real. The red deepened impossibly further, venturing into shades I'd only ever seen in rare, precious flowers or the hearts of dying stars.
"I—that's—I didn't mean—I mean I did but I didn't—it's just—you're—and I—" The sounds that emerged were not language. They were the vocal equivalent of tripping over one's own feet.
"Well?" I prompted, thoroughly enjoying myself. "If I am yours, then that must mean..."
I let the pause stretch, watching him squirm adorably.
"...you are mine, my little hatchling~"
The words hung in the air between us, warm and possessive and absolutely true. His blush, impossibly, found new depths. His hands flapped uselessly at his sides. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
But beneath all the fluster, I saw it—a tiny, hopeful spark in his eyes. The thought yours? Someone wants me to be theirs? flickering through his mind before being buried under another wave of embarrassment.
I held back the urge to scoop him up and cuddle him senseless. Barely.
His dragons watched this entire exchange with growing confusion. Zyra's head tilted, trying to understand why her boy was making strange sounds and turning colors. ValKyra let out a questioning chirp, which went completely unanswered as Hiccup continued his struggle to form coherent words.
When he finally managed to look at me again, I couldn't help it—I laughed. A genuine, warm, delighted sound that echoed off the cove walls.
His expression shifted immediately. The flustered panic morphed into something else—a tiny, unconscious pout. His lower lip pushed out, his brow furrowing in wounded dignity, as if to say how dare you laugh at me in my moment of crisis?
The pout was lethal weapon that I knew would be trouble in the future.
I laughed harder.
And when he realized his pout was only making things worse, he did the most adorable thing possible: he turned away. Physically rotated his entire body to present me with his profile, arms crossing over his chest in a gesture of supreme, miniature offense. His dragons, loyal to a fault, immediately mimicked his posture—Zyra's tail lashing indignantly, and ValKyra letting out a tiny, offended chirp.
"Awww," I cooed, unable to help myself. "Don't pout, you little cutie. Come now, look at me."
He didn't look. The pout intensified.
I bit my lip, suppressing another laugh. As delightful as this game was, I could see my poor hatchling approaching his limit. Another few moments of teasing and he might actually die from embarrassment, and I had far too many plans for my hatchling to allow that.
Time for a graceful retreat.
I let my expression soften, the teasing warmth fading into genuine fondness. "Hiccup, your friends are absolutely adorable. I must admit, I did not expect your 'friends' to be dragons." I tilted my head, allowing curiosity to color my voice. "Would you mind introducing them to me, my dear?"
The change in topic worked like magic. His tension eased immediately, the pout melting away as his natural enthusiasm for all things draconic reasserted itself. He turned back to face me, still pink-cheeked but visibly relieved to have something concrete to discuss.
"Oh! Right! Sorry, I just thought it would be more fun if it was a surprise!" He gestured broadly at both dragon hatchlings. "Were you surprised? I bet you were surprised. I always try to surprise the—" He caught himself, the mention of Berk threatening to pull him toward darker thoughts, and shook it off with visible effort. "Anyway! I'll introduce my girls to you!"
He moved toward the Speed Stinger first, one small hand coming up to rest on her sleek black snout. The dragon's hostile glare at me didn't diminish, but she leaned into his touch with obvious devotion and love.
"This is Zyra!" Hiccup announced proudly. "She's a Speed Stinger—but she is the not like the ones in the Book of Dragons. See, her scales are black with purple underneath, and the book says they're supposed to be a greenish blue. So either the book is wrong, or she's special. I think she's just special." He nuzzled against her snout, and Zyra's eyes half-closed in contentment despite her continued vigilance toward me. "She's the fastest being, I've ever seen. Faster than any dragon that attacks Berk on the raids, and I bet when she grows up she will be the fastest dragon in the entire archipelago!!! And she's super protective—she always makes sure I get back to our cave safely."
Zyra's tail wagged once, a sharp thump against the grass.
"And this—" Hiccup moved to the black dragon with the glowing violet belly, scooping her up carefully in both hands even though it was halve his size. "This is ValKyra. She's the best singer in the whole archipelago, I swear it. Listen—"
He made a soft crooning sound, and ValKyra responded immediately. Her song filled the cove—rising and falling notes that wove together into something that wasn't quite language but carried more meaning than words could hold. It spoke of starlight and safe caves and the joy of flying under full moons. It was, without exaggeration, the most beautiful sound I'd heard since leaving Asgard.
"I have absolutely no idea what species she is though," Hiccup admitted, stroking ValKyra's tiny head with one finger. "The Book of Dragons has nothing on her. Nothing! So I named her species myself—I call them Death Songs. Because—" He grinned, a mischievous, slightly wild expression. "She sings first, right? And the song brings birds and small animals closer—they can't help it, it's so pretty. And then..." He made a grabbing motion with his free hand. "She shoots these little shots of amber instead of fire! They're not hot, they're just... sticky. And they harden fast. So she traps them, and—" He shrugged, the motion practical rather than guilty. "That's how we get food when I can't find enough. She's really good at it."
When I can't find enough.
The words landed in my chest differently than his earlier confession had.
My child. My child. Scrounging for food. Going hungry. Relying on dragons—bless their devoted hearts—to keep him alive because the miserable vermin of Berk couldn't be bothered to ensure their chief's son had enough to eat.
Later, I promised myself, the thought cold and hard as forged steel. I will deal with my anger against those disgusting humans later.
But now was not that time. Now was for warmth, for connection, for drawing my hatchling closer.
I pushed the cold fury down and let warmth rise in its place. "That is a wonderful name for her species," I said sincerely. "Death Song. It's perfect for a hunter who uses beauty and a siren song as her weapons. And both your girls have lovely names—Zyra and ValKyra. Fitting for such remarkable companions."
Hiccup beamed at the praise, hugging ValKyra gently before setting her back on the grass. The dragon immediately pressed against his leg, her amethyst eyes still watching me with wary fascination.
"Hiccup," I said, my voice softening. "Come back to me. I want to cuddle you more."
I didn't need to read his mind to see his response. The way his body leaned toward me before his mind had even processed the words. The quick, almost unconscious step in my direction. The way his eyes lit with something hungry and hopeful.
He came without hesitation. He simply walked away from his dragons—both of whom watched him with stunned disbelief—and settled against me, his small body fitting perfectly into the curve of my arm as I pulled him close. He let out a tiny sigh of pure contentment and leaned his head against my chest, right over my heart.
It was Perfect.
His dragons, however froze in place.
Zyra's jaw hung open, rows of teeth on full display as she stared at the scene before her. ValKyra, still pressed against the spot where Hiccup had been standing, went utterly still, her amethyst eyes wide as moons. They looked between each other, then back at us, then at each other again, communicating in the silent language of creatures who had just witnessed the impossible.
Their boy. Their boy. The one who flinched from touch unless it was theirs. The one who curled into them for warmth and comfort because there was no one else. The one who belonged to them—was willingly, trustingly, happily snuggling against a stranger.
A stranger they had been prepared to fight.
I met their stares, and a small, challenging smile curved my lips. You think you're protective? You think you're possessive? Watch this and learn.
My hand found the spot behind Hiccup's ear. The spot. I began to scratch—slow, firm, deliberate strokes in exactly the rhythm that had undone him before.
The effect was immediate and absolute.
His entire body went limp. His eyes fluttered closed. A sound escaped him—that low, rumbling, utterly contented purr that I had come to treasure with my everything. It vibrated against my chest, a living declaration of trust and bliss. His lips curved in a smile of pure, unconscious happiness.
Zyra's jaw dropped further. It was, frankly, a hazard.
ValKyra made a sound—a tiny, wounded noise, as if her heart had been stepped on. Their boy. Their boy. Making that sound. For someone else.
For a long moment, they simply stared, too shocked to move.
Then something shifted in their eyes. The shock didn't fade, but it was joined by something else—determination. Focus. A new, fierce resolve.
They began to move toward us.
Slowly at first, as if testing the waters. Zyra's powerful muscles coiled beneath her black scales, each step deliberate. ValKyra hopped forward, her tiny wings half-spread for balance. Their eyes were fixed on Hiccup—on his peaceful face, his purring form, his complete surrender to my touch.
And then, behind that focus, I saw it. Possessiveness. The same fierce, absolute claim I felt in my own heart, burning in their draconic souls.
He's ours, those eyes practically yelled out. We don't know who you are or what you're doing, but he's ours.
I was impressed. Genuinely impressed. Most creatures, even apex predators, would have fled from my presence by now. The ambient death magic alone should have driven them back. Yet here they were, advancing on the Goddess of Death herself, because their boy was in someone else's arms.
But I needed to know something. I needed to know if they were worthy of the idea taking shape in my mind.
I let my control slip.
Just a fraction. Just a taste. A portion of my bloodlust, my divine nature, my absolute dominion over death itself, bled into the air around us. The garden reacted instantly—the spider lilies' perfume thickened, the lake's surface stilled to glass, the very shadows seemed to deepen and reach.
Zyra froze mid-step. A whimper escaped her throat that was involuntary, and primal. Her muscles locked, every instinct screaming RUN at a volume that should have been impossible to ignore. ValKyra stumbled, her beautiful song cutting off in a strangled chirp as she pressed herself low to the ground, tiny body trembling.
They were terrified. As any living thing should be in the face of what I was.
And yet.
They moved. Not quickly. Not gracefully. But they moved. Forward. Toward me. Toward the source of their terror. Because between them and the nightmare sat their boy, purring peacefully, utterly untouched by the death radiating around him. If anything, his purr had grown louder in the sudden silence, the darkness around us seeming to comfort rather than threaten him.
Their eyes, wide with primal fear, nevertheless burned with that same possessive fire. He is ours. We will not leave him. We will not abandon him to you, even if you are death itself.
They reached us.
Zyra pressed her trembling body against Hiccup's side, her snout coming to rest across his legs. ValKyra crawled into his lap, curling into a shaking ball against his stomach. They were terrified—I could feel it radiating from them in waves—but they were there. With him. Trying to Protect him, even from a threat they couldn't possibly hope to face.
I restrained my aura immediately, letting the garden return to its peaceful state.
"You chose well, darling," I murmured, genuine warmth coloring my voice. "They are perfect."
Hiccup stirred slightly at my words, his purring faltering for just a moment before resuming. His dragons, recovering from their ordeal, began to nuzzle against him with renewed intensity—claiming him, reassuring themselves that he was still theirs, still safe, still here.
And I watched them, a new plan crystallizing in my mind.
They could become his perfect Familiars.
If I could obtain what I needed—the right materials, the right rituals—I could bind them to him properly. Not as pets, not as simple companions, but as extensions of his soul. Familiars of the highest order, sharing his power, amplifying his strength, connected to him across any distance.
I let my fingers drift from his hair to the two brave little guardians pressed against him, scratching Zyra beneath her jaw and tracing slow circles along ValKyra's glowing belly until reluctant purrs replaced their lingering tension, their sharp eyes softening as they tolerated my touch—for now, and in time, that tolerance would become something far more enduring.
There is much to gather and little time to waste, but I think I shall enjoy this small, fragile peace a while longer.