A/N: A drabble on the Forbidden Friendship scene that's been knocking around in my head for a while.

By Dragon Rules

"When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you. That means you walk like us, you talk like us… no more of… this."

Stoic's words as he left rang through Hiccup's ears as he made his way into the cove, a shield on his arm, a knife in his belt, and a big Icelandic cod hooked over the fingers of his right hand. He knew that what he was doing was probably all sorts of wrong—Vikings didn't feed dragons, that was insane!—but aver since Astrid had unwittingly made him realize that there were two sides to the generations-long conflict, he'd been unable to think about anything else.

What he did know for sure was that the dragon was injured, hungry and alone—a living creature whom he'd been unable to kill once he realized that the reptile experienced fear and pain, just like he did. So, steeling himself, Hiccup suited up and headed down to get a closer look, wondering dryly what they'd all say at his funeral when this inevitably turned out to be a terrible idea.

When you carry this, you carry all of us with you. That means you walk like us, you talk like us…

How he managed to get his shield so thoroughly stuck in the crevasse he couldn't fathom, but with a sigh and a last, half-hearted tug, he left it behind. It wasn't like the fool thing did him that much good in the ring, and they weren't practicing with hungry, angry Night Furies. Swallowing, he scanned the area, holding up the fish in hopes that the dragon would see it before it recognized him.

A tiny shifting sound was the only warning he got. Hiccup turned and slowly looked up, watching with rising terror as the huge, onyx-black carnivorous reptile padded down from the rock almost silently, then made a curious growl in its throat. The tiny human held the fish out, hardly able to breathe. Odin, why couldn't he ever seem to make the connection between realizing something was a terrible idea and actually refraining from doing it?

The dragon stalked forward, staring hungrily at the cod and opening its mouth expectantly, but then drew back, snarling, its huge green eyes glaring at the long shape visible beneath Hiccup's vest.

When you carry this, you carry all of us with you.

Gingerly, Hiccup drew aside his vest and plucked the knife out of his belt with the tips of his fingers, dropping it to the ground. The dragon snarled when he touched it, then jerked its head towards the pond.

You carry us with you.

Kicking the dagger up so that it rested on his foot, Hiccup tossed it into the water with a dull splash.

He carried no one with him—because he was not like them.

Immediately, the dragon relaxed, venturing forward an opening his mouth, extending his teeth at the last possible second, he snatched the fish from Hiccup's hand, gulping it down greedily. Then he pushed forward, ignoring or not understanding Hiccup's discomfort as the small human backed away, eventually falling as he encountered a moss-covered boulder.

Hiccup didn't know what he was expecting, exactly, when the dragon eventually got in close, but it certainly wasn't that it would vomit up half of the fish into his lap. It took him a moment to realize that the reptile was sharing the food with him. The raw, dragon-spit-covered fish was possibly the most horrible thing Hiccup had ever tasted in his life, but he managed to get a mouthful down.

Here in the cove, there were no Vikings, no axes, no human rules. Down here, Hiccup realized, he needed to play by dragon rules. Well, it wasn't like he was that good at the Viking ones, he reasoned. He could do that. The dragon was still watching him, and he smiled awkwardly.

To his immense surprise, the dragon's mouth stretched sideways, then curled up at the corners—imitating him. Setting the rest of the nasty fish aside, he slowly reached out a hand, wondering if the huge animal would let him touch it. Immediately, the dragon snarled and bounded away. But he hadn't tried to burn Hiccup, hadn't tried to hurt him at all. They were communicating.

Even if it was rough and weird and involved barfed-up fish.

The Night Fury exhaled a stream of fire, creating a little circle of warm coals and then curling up on it, clearly intending to nap. Seeing his opportunity, Hiccup crept in close, sitting cross-legged, a few-arm-lengths out of reach. When the dragon noticed him, he waved. It raised up its hindquarters, stepping a little to curl up tighter and more easily wrap its tail and wing around its body for some privacy.

Hiccup was fascinated now—this impossibly rare dragon with the injured tail who wouldn't harm him; it was totally new territory! No one had ever gotten close enough to one and lived to tell the tale to know anything important about it—and here it was, grumpily trying to take a nap, so close he could count its individual scales! He scooched closer, reaching out a hand to try and touch again, but the dragon fled, and folded itself over a tree-branch like a bat.

Realizing that continuing to annoy the massive carnivore was probably not the best way to stay alive, and taking his own inner voice's advice for once in his life, Hiccup moved away and took a seat on a boulder. Idly doodling in the dirt with a stick, he was surprised when he felt something big and dark hovering over his shoulder. Apparently, when he wasn't actively getting on its nerves, the dragon was actually interested in him, too. Hiccup wondered thoughtfully if this was the first time a Night Fury had gotten this close to a human and lived to tell the tale…

The sound of wood cracking loudly surprised Hiccup, but not as much as the dragon running and spinning around him, an entire medium-sized tree clamped between its jaws, scratching nonsense swirls in the dirt of the cove. Hiccup stared in amazement, slack jawed at what he was seeing. Oh yeah—the dragon was definitely imitating him.

Standing slowly, he began to approach the dragon, thinking maybe he'd try again to touch him, but instantly the reptile's posture changed. His ears and flaps lowered as he growled in hostility. Gulping, Hiccup raised his foot to step back, and suddenly the dragon was all innocent curiosity. Frowning, Hiccup set his foot down again—the dragon snarled menacingly. He lifted it, and all of the aggression faded. Then it clicked—he was stepping on the dragon's drawing!

Extending his leg, Hiccup stepped forward, carefully avoiding the deep trench in the dirt below him. The dragon warbled contentedly, and Hiccup smiled brightly, proud of himself that he'd figured out the code. As he stepped from space to space, it hit him again—this was a powerful visual metaphor.

To communicate with a dragon, he had to play by dragon rules.

The puff of warm air as the dragon exhaled alerted Hiccup to the sudden proximity before the looming shadow did. He froze, feeling the dragon's body heat and knowing that they were closer than they'd ever been before—barring the time he's tried to cut out its heart, of course. Slowly, he turned, taking in the huge, thoughtful green eyes and smooth black scales. The dragon was voluntarily here in his space… Figuring it couldn't hurt (much) to try, Hiccup reached out a hand, but just like all the other times, the dragon drew back and growled.

Hiccup had to play by his rules.

Taking a deep breath, and realizing in the most rational part of his brain—the self-preservation part that he'd now gone right back to ignoring—that he might lose his hand, doing this, the tiny human closed his eyes, turned his face away, and stretched out his arm.

If the dragon was going to let him touch it, then it would only be on the dragon's own terms.

Moments passed, and neither of them moved.

Then slowly, hesitantly, the dragon shifted forward, and suddenly Hiccup felt a warm, dry, scaly snout pressed into his hand.

He could feel the thrumming of the dragon's huge heart, the subtle shifts in its skin—the feeling of encountering another being's life was so powerful that Hiccup's knees went weak. Slowly he turned his head, staring in awe at the magnificent creature wiling to trust him enough to touch him.

Then the dragon drew back, wiggling its snout like it was trying to get rid of an itch, and darted off—this time to sleep for real.

Hiccup stood there, contemplating his still-warm hand, his head spinning. He was sure no one had ever done this before. Who, after all, would ever think to try and talk to a dragon?

There was no way that Hiccup could become a "regular Viking" now.

Because he'd started to understand dragon rules—and it was incredible.

A/N: Well, that's all for now, folks! Hope you liked it!

Note: I refer to Toothless as "it" rather than "he" for most of this fic. If this bothers anybody (kinda' bothered me, to be honest) the reasons for it are twofold: first, it's really confusing to write a scene with two characters, only one of which has a known name, who have the same pronouns, and second, until the end, Hiccup isn't really close enough or focused enough to "lift the dragon's skirt" as it were, so he doesn't necessarily know Toothless's gender. I'm not trying to invalidate Toothless as a character!