Sometimes Toothless dreams.

He's flying unfettered, sailing through the night on outstretched wings. Alone, he skims across the ocean with only the waves to break the silence. It's exhilarating, this feeling of freedom, of being able to move freely. He flies lower, his feet skimming the surface of the water before his wings beat harder and he's soaring straight up into the sky. Slicing through the clouds, he snaps his wings open and glides over the fluffy whiteness with nothing but the stars for company. This is what it means to be a Night Fury, gliding like a ghost through the darkness, death on silent wings. He lets out a roar, announcing to the world that he is here, the ruler of the skies has returned. Then he tucks his wings close and moves into a steep dive, a jet black comet falling to the earth.

Suddenly, something is missing. Something he needs, something he wants, something that is so much a part of him that he can't live without it. The ground looms close and he closes his eyes, waiting for the crash he knows is coming.

But the impact doesn't come. Cautiously, his eyes open to a familiar darkness, lit only by the soft glow of a fire on the hearth. Uncurling his body, he walks quietly over to the bed, looks at the sleeping form and lays his massive head beside the small one. He closes his eyes. It doesn't matter what he's lost; what he's gained is so very much more.