It starts with a whisper in the dark. Just weeks after 15-year-old Hiccup Haddock's death, dragon attacks on his homeland of Berk all but cease. Legends tell of his spirit protecting his home. Those who wander the forests of Berk after the sun sets claim to see the boy's spirit for themselves, but it is always gone before anyone can look twice. Rumors of a dark figure atop a Night Fury, cloaked in the cover of night pass from island to island, tribe to tribe just months later.

Astrid digs her axe out of the tree's mangled trunk, five years later. The trees around her all bear the same scars as their brother, carved there by years of meticulous practice for the battle Astrid will never see. She launches it at another tree, a mere fraction of her anger leaving her body in a desperate growl. Her parent's words echo in her head, each time hammering home the end of her freedom, the end of her life and her dreams. The sun sinks more quickly with each passing minute, but she makes no moves toward the village even as darkness closes around her. She throws her ax at the trees around her, her frustration behind every single launch. Each one hits harder than the last. Finally, she puts all she has behind one last throw and releases a feral scream as she falls to her knees. Hot tears escape her eyes despite her best efforts.

"Astrid, dear, you mustn't shout," her mother said, far too calmly for Astrid's liking.

"Oh, I mustn't shout?" she shouted. "You want me to marry Snotlout!"

"Astrid," her father said, stern weight pressed into his voice, "you will marry Snotlout. For the good of Berk."

"Says who?" she challenged.

"Says the chief, girl." Her mother slammed down her mending, fixing Astrid with a bone-chilling glare she'd never seen her mother wear.

Astrid's world lights up in purple-blue fire with the tragic shriek of a struck dragon. The beast smashes through trees and slams into the ground, its momentum carrying it just a few hundred feet from her. She hastily wipes the cooling tears from her face. Her feet carry her automatically to her axe, still lodged in the tree. It takes most of her strength to remove the newly sharpened blade from the damaged wood, but it releases suddenly.

She's on the dragon in seconds, following her instincts to lift the ax above her head. It lines up with the dragon's neck, but Astrid hesitates despite all her training. She's never actually killed a dragon. She's never even really seen one this close. At least, not in years.

"Don't." The man's voice, weak and thin, startles her, and she nearly drops her ax. "Don't hurt him. Please." Clinging to the dragon's back, the man wears a helmet like none Astrid has ever seen. He's tall and lean. His clothes are leather decorated with scratched paintings of the very dragon at her feet, black and curled around itself. For no good reason, Astrid listens to him. She slowly drops her ax to the ground and sidesteps at a glacial pace around the beast.

"Are you hurt?" she asks, sinking carefully to her knees beside his head. He seems to have given up on standing, or even lifting himself off the ground. She sees his left arm going under the dragon's body.

"I don't know," he answers after a second. There's something terribly familiar about his voice that she can't quite place. "Would you even help me if I were?"

Astrid doesn't respond because she doesn't know the answer. She realizes with a start that her hand is resting on the inky black scales of the dragon's side, but she makes no move to change it. She feels the beast's deep breaths in and out under her fingers. For no good reason, she isn't scared at all.

"It's a Night Fury," she says, her eyes never leaving the dragon. The man nods.

"You've seen one?" he asks. She nods.

"Once. Does that make you the Dragon Master?" Astrid finds herself petting the beast without fear. His head tilts to the left.

"Is that what they call me these days?" There's the barest hint of amusement in his voice, as if it's all a clever joke that he's stuck under a Night Fury.

"Can I take off your helmet?" she asks. "You could be hurt under there." He seems to hesitate before he nods. She's as gentle as she can be, a hand on each side of the helmet as she pulls it free. Her breath leaves her when she sees his face. "Hiccup?"

"Hey, Astrid," Hiccup says. His green eyes stand out clearly from his soot-smeared face. "It's good to see you again."

A/N: Reuploaded because I accidentally included part of a scrapped concept here the first time around. Hopefully that clears up some confusion.