Hey everyone, it's Blackviper1738.
I just wanted to take a moment to apologize for the lack of recent updates and posts. I know some of you have been waiting patiently, and I truly appreciate your support.
The reason for the slowdown is that some family came over unexpectedly, and I chose to spend time with them. It's not often I get to be around them, and I wanted to make the most of those moments while I could.
That said, I'm back now—and working on the next chapter/content as we speak. Thank you all for understanding and for sticking with me. More is coming soon, I promise!
Much love,
– Blackviper1738
Stoick's Point of View
The arena still buzzed with tension.
The dust hadn't fully settled. Neither had the crowd. Whispers passed like wind through trees. Confused. Awed. Frightened.
Stoick stood still at the ledge, hands clenched on the stone rail, eyes locked on one person.
Hiccup.
His son moved with calm, calculated ease across the pit. Not a scratch on him. No sign of exhaustion. His movements were sharp—too sharp. Controlled in a way that no boy should move. That no human should move.
He wasn't breathing hard.
The Gronckle was.
Gobber stepped up beside him, quieter than usual. The blacksmith rubbed the back of his neck, lips pursed, sweat sliding down his temple.
"That was somethin' else," Gobber muttered. "Didn't even break a sweat..."
Stoick didn't answer.
Below, Hiccup reached the side of the arena.
Astrid was waiting.
She didn't hesitate.
She didn't flinch.
She smiled.
And when he reached for her—grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into his lap like she belonged there—she let him.
Like it was normal.
Stoick's jaw clenched.
He leaned slightly toward Gobber. "What did Astrid say to you... when she told you her plan?"
Gobber blinked. "Eh? Oh, same as before. She said she managed to get close to him. Said it was working. That he was letting his guard down."
Stoick's eyes didn't leave the pair below.
"She say how she got close?"
Gobber hesitated. "Not really. Just that it was working. That she was playin' along. Playin' the part."
"And you believed her."
"Well, aye. I mean—she was tellin' me exactly what we hoped for."
Stoick exhaled slowly through his nose.
No anger.
Just understanding.
Cold, creeping understanding.
"This plan..." he said, voice low, "to use Astrid... to place someone close to him... to feed information through false loyalty..."
Gobber nodded. "It was smart."
"It wasn't ours, Gobber."
The words hung in the air.
Gobber's face twisted. "Come again?"
Stoick's voice hardened. "That plan. It wasn't ours. It was his. Hiccup's."
Gobber shook his head. "No—no, that can't—"
Stoick turned to him slowly. "He told her the plan. She told you. And you believed her because you and the others wanted to."
They both looked down at the arena.
At the boy who now sat like a king—his arm around Astrid, her head resting against his chest, his gaze scanning the arena not with fear or even amusement...
But ownership.
Control.
And Luna?
Sitting beside their daughter, still human, still silent... but her eyes watched them both with that same eerie calm. Like everything was unfolding just as it should.
Gobber whispered, "She's really with him..."
"She's been with him from the start," Stoick said.
The truth clicked together like falling blades.
He hadn't infiltrated Hiccup's defenses.
He'd let them think they had.
And Astrid?
Whether she knew it or not—whether she even cared anymore—was his.
They'd walked into his trap the moment she stepped into that pit.
Stoick stepped back from the railing, his hands still clenched.
And for the first time in years—
He felt something he hadn't in a very long time.
Not rage.
Not frustration.
Doubt.
Hiccup's Point of View
I couldn't help it.
The laugh slipped from my throat—low, dark, and laced with satisfaction.
Astrid tensed on my lap, her head shifting slightly to look up at me. "What's funny?" she asked, brows narrowing with curiosity.
I smiled, slow and sharp. "My senses are heightened, even in this form," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hearing. Scent. Vibration. It's easy to tell when someone's heartbeat spikes in panic."
My gaze lifted toward the viewing platform—where my father still stood.
Stoick.
Rigid. Silent. Fuming.
"But it seems the old man isn't as stupid as I believed," I said with mock admiration, my tone venomous beneath the smirk. "He's figured it out."
Astrid blinked. "Figured out what?"
I leaned in, lips brushing close to her ear. "That I was the one who gave you the plan. That the idea to 'spy on me' didn't come from Berk." I chuckled again, deeper this time. "It came from me."
Her breath caught slightly, and I could feel the way her body shifted. Not in fear.
In realization.
"And now?" I murmured, voice low and sharp, "Now they see you as a traitor. A girl who got too close. Too comfortable. You've become exactly what I needed."
She turned her head just enough to meet my eyes. "You planned for them to catch on?"
"No," I said truthfully. "But it doesn't matter. Because now we turn their mistake into our advantage."
I raised my eyes once more, locking briefly onto Stoick's from across the arena. His jaw was tight. His posture was stiff. Good.
Let him boil.
"They'll be watching you," I continued. "Especially when they move forward with their next idiotic play—using Luna and Freya as leverage, no doubt. When they make that move..."
I let the silence linger before I finished.
"You'll act."
Astrid's eyes sharpened.
"You'll defend them. Fiercely. Loudly. You'll play the part of a girl torn between what's right and what she used to believe. All eyes will be on you—just as I want."
"And while they're distracted..." she whispered.
I smiled.
"We counter-ambush them. Vanguard strikes. Quick. Surgical. No survivors unless I say so."
Astrid let out a slow breath and leaned against me again. "You're terrifying, you know that?"
"Only to those who thought I was weak."
The arena was still, the weight of my earlier victory pressing down on every pair of lungs in the stands.
Then—
The familiar sound of Gothi's staff tapping the stone floor echoed sharply.
One.
Two.
Three.
Every voice—every breath—cut off instantly.
Even the wind seemed to stop for her.
Gobber, ever her mouthpiece, stepped forward with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to ease the pressure. "Right then. Big moment. Gothi will now choose who gets the honor of slayin' the Monstrous Nightmare. A real graduation moment for all the fine young dragon slayers we've been trainin'."
I didn't flinch. Didn't tense.
Because I already knew.
Gothi didn't move toward the twins.
Not toward Snotlout or Fishlegs or even Astrid.
She turned slowly—deliberately—and raised her staff in my direction.
A single point of silence.
Then Gobber said what everyone else was too stunned to process.
"...Hiccup."
Gasps broke out across the arena.
I didn't move.
Not at first.
I locked eyes with her.
And in that instant, I saw it.
She wasn't doing this by choice.
Not because she believed in me. Not because she wanted me to have this moment. Not because she approved of what I was or what I had done.
But because Stoick ordered it.
A tool.
A pawn.
He thought it would grease the wheels for whatever he had planned tomorrow. A gesture. A distraction. An illusion of trust and reintegration.
He thought I'd be blind enough to feel honored.
But I wasn't the boy he remembered.
And Gothi... I could tell she knew that now.
Her eyes flickered for only a moment. That look—small, ancient, sad.
It was the same one she gave me when I was young and broken.
When my ribs were cracked. My leg twisted. My skin burned.
And I was too small to hold a sword or a grudge.
When I couldn't heal myself, she had done it.
No lectures. No judgment.
Just care.
She was the only one who treated me like something more than a failure.
And I'd never forgotten.
She didn't know it, but I'd always seen her as more than the village elder. She was my healer. My protector. My... grandmother.
At least in my eyes.
I never told her.
I wouldn't.
Especially not now.
Especially not when the village was balanced on a knife's edge and my revenge was almost ready to fall like a guillotine.
But in this moment, I looked at her not with the coldness I reserved for Stoick... or the contempt I had for the rest of Berk.
I looked at her the way I used to.
And I saw the way her shoulders sagged.
She didn't want to offer me this kill.
She didn't want to be part of this charade.
She didn't know exactly what Stoick had planned for Luna and Freya... but I did.
And I wouldn't let her suffer if things unfolded like I envisioned.
I already had countermeasures in place.
The Vanguard Squad—my Timberjack, my Nadder, my Speed Stinger, my Changewing, my Scauldron—were already in position. Hidden beyond the cliffs, watching from the skies, the forest, and the sea.
They were ready.
The moment Stoick moved?
They would move first.
Because while Stoick was plotting how to use Luna and Freya as pawns, believing some "dragon curse" had infected me, he didn't realize...
He'd already been checkmated.
I stepped forward finally, brushing off my coat and letting the arena feel the weight of my decision.
I gave Gothi a small nod.
Not of thanks.
But of understanding.
I wasn't going to kill the Nightmare.
Not yet.
Not for Berk.
But I'd play along—for now.
Because the real game?
Begins tomorrow.