CHAPTER 1 - ASTRID

Berk has known its fair share of destruction. Not particularly surprising, since the local wildlife averages at about ten feet tall, weighs a ton, and spits fire at anything that they find displeasurable.

But this… this was different. This wasn't just destruction. This was total annihilation.

"Snotlout!" I cried, though I could hardly hear myself. Chaos surrounded Berk, as explosion after explosion boomed through the night. "Snoutlout!" though futile, I tried again, searching for a reply. My voice was getting hoarse, as I breathed in smoke and ash.

Suddenly, a scaly snout shot out through the flames, teeth gleaming in the fire. I gasped as the air left my lungs and I fell to the floor. Someone pushed me out of the way right before the dragon snapped its jaws shut on my head. I looked up to see Snotlout, facing the beast that almost decapitated me.

"Astrid! I could use a little bit of help here!" he shouted as he nailed the Monstrous Nightmare in the face with a hammer.

"On it!" I scrambled for anything I could use as a weapon. There was my axe, a frying pan and a wooden spoon. Wood burns… so I left the spoon. With the most Viking-blooded war cry I could muster, I ran towards the dragon, pointing my axe and wielding the frying pan over my shoulder. As it turned to face me, I threw the pan at its face, effectively distracting it as I dove under its legs. As I slid, I sliced open its soft, unprotected belly. The enemy was down in seconds.

"Ugh I hate Monstrous guts," complained Snotlout, plugging his nose. I climbed out from under the corpse of my kill, covered with dragon remains.

"Well, you should probably get used to it, unless you'd rather be dead," I said, trying to wipe some of the slime off my chest.

"Well you know what? I can't help it if I-" Snotlout stopped mid-sentence and pointed to the dragon. "What in Midgard is that?"

"Snotlout, I know that you know exactly what a Montrous-" I trailed off as I turned around to look at the beast. I hadn't noticed before in the heat of the moment, but following Snotlout's finger, I noticed there was a metal collar wrapped around the dragon's neck. I looked back at Snotlout, who returned my perplexed gaze.

We didn't have time to ask any more questions, as a fireball plummeted towards us. We dove behind a stone wall and looked up to face our attacker. One very angry Gronkle buzzed towards us at amazing speed, considering its impossibly tiny wings. I noticed that this dragon, like the Monstrous Nightmare, wore an iron collar.

"You go left, see if you can distract it. I'll flank right and try to get it from behind," I ordered Snotlout, who nodded. Before we could move however, another Gronkle appeared left, blocking Snotlout's exit. Seemingly out of nowhere, another covered our right. We were effectively surrounded.

This wasn't right. This battle seemed to defy everything I thought I knew about dragons. Deadly Nadders were never so bold. Monstrous Nightmares were stealthier than ever. Gronkles never cooperated like they did in this very moment. They were faster, stronger, and most of all, smarter than ever before.

And last time I checked, dragons didn't care for jewelry. Those iron collars bothered me most of all.

The Gronkles opened their jaws, readying to fire. Snotlout clutched my hand. Without turning his gaze away from the dragons, he squeezed. "Astrid, before we die, I just want you to know that even though I have never admitted it, I always thought you were the best fighter in Berk, and the way you annihilate dragon scum makes me realize that I think I'm in-"

"Shut up and look!" I cut him off before he could finish.

A shadowy figure slowly made its way through the ash. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was another Viking. I waited for the Gronkles to turn around to face him, or for him to attack the dragons, but neither of them took their gaze off of Snotlout and I. The man limped closer, eventually standing right next to a Gronkle, and rested his hand on its side. The dragon didn't do so much as flinch. I looked into the man's shadowy face. I didn't recognize him, which could only mean one thing.

He was not from Berk.

He had a sharp, hooked nose and a canvas of scars littered his skin. However, it was his eyes that sent a chill down my spine. They were wild and deranged, but they also had an intense, disturbing focus. They locked with my own eyes, until it was I who eventually broke contact.

"Are you Snotlout, chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe?" the Viking demanded, his voice was deep and rough, with the touch of an accent I didn't recognize.

Snotlout stood up just a bit straighter. "I am," he answered. His fear didn't manifest in his voice. I was impressed.

The man briefly looked at Snotlout, scanning his figure up and down. He scoffed before whipping around and gesturing into the air. Before either Snotlout or I could respond, two dragons swooped through the air and grabbed us in their talons, ascending into the night sky.

I screamed, clutching the dragon's feet for dear life as the ground got smaller below me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had hoped to die gloriously in battle. Sword through the heart. Burned to death. I wished that the Monstrous Nightmare had just bitten my head off. But falling to death? I couldn't imagine anything more terrifying or gruesome. I pictured my splattered remains on one of Berk's rooftops. Suddenly, the dragon dove towards the ground, and I felt my stomach go up into my chest. I screamed again, burying my face into the dragon's scaly feet.

The talons finally released me, but instead of plummeting, I felt myself softly drop to the ground, not even two feet below. I looked up to see what was Berk's Great Hall, which was, to my astonishment, not bursting in flames. I watched as a Deadly Nadder dropped Snotlout down beside me. He quickly got up onto his feet, but then stumbled, still dizzy from the ride.

"Who do you think you are!" He shouted. I followed his gaze to see the mysterious stranger had followed us here. He stood in the entrance of the Great Hall, the doors were open to the darkness within.

The stranger laughed a dark, cold laugh, and despite the fires raging around us, I shivered. Snotlout's gaze softened in confusion.

"You don't know?" the stranger yelled, almost gleefully. "You really don't know who I am?"

Snotlout stared at the man, dumbfounded. He looked at me, hoping for an answer. I frowned and shook my head. I was just as oblivious.

"You should be bowing down to me! Worshipping me! Kissing my feet!" he yelled. "And you don't know who I am?"

"Who are you?" Snotlout demanded, growing impatient.

Without skipping a beat, he shouted into the sky. "I am Drago Bludvist! Your savior! Your liberator! Be thankful to me, for I have come to save you from the scourge of these dragons once and for all!"

"You! You're controlling them!" I shouted, as realization hit me.

Suddenly, it made sense. The way the dragons fought together. Smarter, and with organization. The way this Viking had walked among the Gronkles without aggression. The iron collars. Somehow, this man was commanding the beasts. And they were obeying.

The stranger turned to me and smiled, crookedly.

"Smart girl," he scoffed.

"Why are you… how are you doing this?" I continued, in disbelief.

"I have done what you all could not!" Drago yelled. "I have risen above the fear, and the terror of these dragons! And now they fear me!"

"They obey me," He added, coldly.

I looked at Snotlout who stared at Drago in awe. The bravery he had donned not long before had vanished. His face was white as snow.

"With my command, dragons will no longer scourge this clan. This war your ancestors have fought for so many years may finally cpme to an end." Drago lowered his head and grinned. "So long as you bow to me."

Snotlout's brash Viking stubbornness immediately rebooted as he narrowed his eyes. "You come here to burn down our homes and terrorize our people. This tribe will never bow to you, Drago." He held out that last word with a snarl.

Drago's smile widened, as if he was hoping for that reply. Before I could blink, a roaring column of frost descended upon Snotlout. I shielded myself from the bitter blast as tiny shards of ice bit into my skin. When I looked up, Snotlout was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a twenty-foot sculpture of ice, covered with long, sharp spikes.

"NO!" I yelled, running to the ice. I pressed my face against the rough surface, desperately searching for my chief and my friend. I pounded my fists, but the ice was stronger than iron. I knew it was useless.

Quick as lightning, I whipped around to face Drago.

"What did you do!" I screamed, disbelief transforming into anger.

Before I could move, two Vikings grabbed my upper arms and pulled me back. They turned me around, dragging me towards the Great Hall. Without clearing the tears from my eyes, I jammed my elbow straight into the belly of one of the men. As he doubled over in pain, I grabbed his helmet and jammed the horn straight into the other man's leg. He cursed out in pain and released my arm.

I had my opportunity.

Without looking back, I ran for my life.