Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Darkness, that's the first thing he remembers. It was dark, it was cold, and he was scared. But then he saw it. It was so big and so bright, it seemed to chase the darkness away. And when it did, he wasn’t scared anymore.
Why he was there and what he was meant to do, that he didn’t know. Part of him still wonders if he ever will.
He staggered onto the ice as the creature behind him vanished beneath the surface. Moving chunks ice like they were leaves in a water basin. A startled grunt escaped his throat. He rushed to the water's edge, but before he could submerge his feet, the surface crackled and froze solid beneath him.
Claws?
He fell backward in surprise, a puff of frozen mist spiraling around him. He tried to stand on two legs, but his body felt off-balance. Instinct took over, and he shifted onto four limbs. Something brushed behind him. He turned—and there it was: a long, elegant tail of white and shimmering blue, carving patterns into the snow.
A single word echoed in his mind.
Dragon.
The thought chilled him more than the cold.
Turning slowly, he watched the tail swish again. With a cautious shake, he tested it. Yep. That was definitely part of him.
A grin crept across his face as he gave a few test hops. Snowflakes exploded into the air with every bounce. His eyes lit up in wonder. He stretched his limbs further, wings unfurling for the first time. He wavered, then slowly opened and closed them as if they were sails catching the wind. His grin grew into a breathy laugh.
He began bounding across the ice, feeling it thicken beneath him with contact. Claws dug into the surface. Jump after jump, he rose higher. Wings beating uncertainly at first then harder, stronger. He tipped sideways, landed face-first, and skidded across the slick surface with a gleeful holler. Shook himself off. Then he took to the air once more, this time with real momentum.
He soared and soared, climbing, pushing against the wind faster and higher. With no real concern for the snow or the cold, until he broke through the cloud layer. The fog and silence gave way to an endless canopy of stars. Up here, everything slowed. His breath caught. The stars were so close, so vivid -
Until they vanished. He’d forgotten to flap.
Laughter burst out of him as the wind caught his wings and sent him tumbling downward in joyful chaos. He twisted in the air, letting the cold soak through him like a second skin. Then there it was. A light, flickering in the distance.
People.
He swooped downward, clumsily landing in a snowbank on the edge of a forest. Snow fell heavily around him, but the voices were close, inviting. He bounded towards them with childlike excitement.
And then. They screamed.
Sharp objects whizzed through the air. Past his head. He tried to speak, but the sounds that came out were unfamiliar to his ears. He understood their words, dragon, monster, but he couldn’t form them himself. Another arrow, this time it connected too. So he ran.
He learned quickly, humans didn’t welcome him. Neither did other dragons. At least dragons gave a warning. Usually.
The younger ones from both species sometimes showed curiosity, but their encounters never lasted long. Nothing ever went deeper than fleeting glances.
He grew cautious.
The Years passed along with the seasons, he stopped counting after the first few winters.
He made an island his home a quiet, dragonless place. Spent his days un relative calm, making tiny snow or stone sculptures depending in the season. At least, until a newcomer arrived: a mother dragon seeking a safe lagoon to hatch her young. Usually he would scare off most dragons not wanting the inevitable clash with them. Better to establish its his home early. But he couldn’t do that to a new mom.
Jack watched from the cliffside as she nudged her eggs into the water. Moments later, four tiny hatchlings broke the surface like playful seals. Not that he “panicked” when he thought they might be drowning. Nope. Definitely not. He didn’t step out from the shade of the cliff with the intention to dive for the babies, despite the fact that he can’t actually break water surfaces properly. That would be idiotic.
Naturally the mother spotted him. Puffed a low warning, positioning herself protectively. Dejected, but not surprised Jack backed off.
Fishing was next on the agenda. A disaster, as usual.
Every time he reached into the water, it froze solid around his claws. Using his face wasn’t much better, soaked face equaled scraping ice for the rest of the day. Not ideal. Berries and small game remained his best bet. Plenty of that on the island. He steered clear of the strand of beach nearest his cave. That entrance was a little too close to the new family’s comfort zone.
Still, Jack watched.
The mother guarded the lagoon like a true protector. She gave more and more annoyed Huffs at Jack. So he started calling her Huffjaw in his head.
Since that first awakening on the ice, Jack had never managed to regulate his body heat. No matter how long he basked, warmth never quite reached his core. Yet even the harshest blizzards didn’t faze the dragon part of him. His more human-like skin, though that chilled fast.
His cave, tucked deep in a cavern system off the shore, held the warmth he craved. The soft pile of furs he’d found “not” stolen awaited his return. Sunlight used to pour through the crevices, warming the space just right.
But Huffjaw still blocked the entrance.
So instead, Jack sprawled at the far end of the beach. Away from the hatchlings, as far as possible. Every now and then, he had to reposition himself when the frost of his own presence started cooling the sand. He yawned as he settled on his latest spot.
The waves whispered against the shore, making him close his eyes, lulled by the sound. Then… a new warmth. Wet, yer rough wriggly warmth.
He cracked one eye open, cautiously lifting a wing.
The hatchlings were snuggling up against him like oversized, scaly caterpillars. They purred with pleasure in the cold he radiated. He froze - no pun intended.
They didn’t stir, just nestled closer, small sighs echoing under his wing.
They stayed like that for hours. He was the happiest he’d ever been. They sought his presence out and enjoyed it. No way in hell he was gonna end it sooner then necessary. He was content staying here forever if it meen more warm cuddles
When the mother returned, Jack stiffened at the sound of her landing. She bolted towards her children in a panic, steps thundering even on the soft sand, only halting as she saw them. Safely tucked beside him. She sniffed Jack thoroughly, nostrils flaring. He held perfectly still.
After an agonizing minute she rumbled softly.
She took a few steps back, satisfied, regurgitated a pile of fish for her cubs. Jack began backing away when a smaller nudge caught his eye. The mother rolled a single fish toward him.
He blinked, then delicately accepted it and swallowed it whole. A warm trill rose from his throat as the hatchlings clambered back towards him to play.
From that day on, their quiet companionship grew.
Jack adapted. So did they. Days blurred into laughter and pawprints in the sand. Whenever the hatchlings grew too warm, their mother would gently roll them into the ocean, where they flopped into the waves, steam hissing from their scales.
Jack named them after the sounds they made when they touched the water: Crackle, Burp, Whistle and Fizz. He looked after them while mother was fishing.
When visitors (other dragons) unexpectedly neared the island, Jack led the young ones deeper into the tunnels. He showed them a sheltered cave, safe and snug. Not his own, not yet. The tunnels leading there were too narrow, and most of his belongings were, well... flammable. He chased anyone posing a danger to the babies. Only very rarely he lost a battle.
They remained underground on those days. Only the mother ventured out for food. Jack stayed behind, keeping the little ones cool and safe. Tending to his wounds.
And for once in his life, that seemed like enough.
Winter rolled in a few weeks later.
This particular storm hadn’t let up for days. Sheets of snow and wind thick enough to cloak a dragon in flight. Jack took full advantage. He launched himself into the clouds, wings slicing through the air as he dove and tumbled through the howling currents. The roar of the wind, the way it tugged at his scales and tossed flurries around him, it was freedom. He let out a screech of delight, banking hard and looping through a gust like he was chasing his own echo.
Just as he began a steep dive, building up speed, a shadow flashed across his path, Fluid and wide and distinctly two headed.
A Zippleback. He smirked to himself.
They weren’t fast, nor were they aggressive. In the rara occasion the passed through his island they seemed playful. And well a little fun never hurt anyone. He aligned his angle, planning to slip neatly between the two swaying necks with a cocky flick of his tail.
But then, contact.
Not physical. Visual.
He locked eyes with the dragon’s right head—and something entirely unexpected looked back.
Not a dragon.
A human.
Panic slammed into him. He twisted midair, wings flaring out too late, and went tumbling backward through the blizzard. His breath came in icy clouds, ragged and sharp, as he tried to gather himself again.
Voices echoed through the frost. Distant. Panicked.
Another shape cut through the cloud, a Nadder.
Jack hissed, low and instinctive. He hated Nadders.
He dropped back into the cloudbank, concealing himself in the swirling white. Another human. A girl. She was saying something- "Tuffnut, stay quiet! We’re supposed to be scouting *stealthily*"
Then her eyes locked onto Jack.
Two humans. Two dragons. Too close. Too dangerous. He couldn’t lead them back to the little ones. And HuffJaw, he had to warn her.
He dove.
One of the riders shouted after him, “Hiccup!” That meant nothing to Jack, and he wasn’t staying around to find out.
The Nadder gave chase, wings sharp and fast. It let out a stream of hot fire, narrowly missing him. Jack twisted midair and blew out a burst of cold fog, flipping upside down beneath them. As the Nadder lunged, spines flew, one slicing into Jack’s shoulder with a jagged stabbing of pain. He snarled and hurled an ice bolt at the Nadder’s tail, freezing the remaining spines in place just long enough to slow it down.
The girl yelled. Jack didn’t wait to hear what. He disappeared into the blizzard, wings stretched wide, gliding silently toward the island.
A high-pitched whine struck his ears, growing louder. Something was on his tail.
He dove hard, skimming along jagged cliffs and weaving through icy pillars. He tried to stop and hide behind pillars but the dark dragon kept locking in on him. He kicked off stone walls to change direction midflight, searching desperately for one of the hidden cracks he remembered, barely more than shadows in the mountainside. A purple blast exploded behind him. Smoke filled the air.
He used that as distraction let more fog seep into the air. He spun, folding his wings, and dove straight into a fissure. Rock scraped his sides, and he slammed into the stone at full speed. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted deeper on all fours, zigzagging through narrow tunnels, until he collapsed in a dead end.
Frost spiraled out from his body in trembling waves, ice crawling up the walls. He tucked into himself, shivering, and let darkness take him.
A gentle croon stirred him.
HuffJaw. Her massive head nudged him softly, and behind her, four tiny forms scrambled forward, cooing and chirping. They curled up against him, their presence calming. Jack exhaled and slumped back into unconsciousness.
Next time he woke he mustered the strength to make it back to his cave leaning on the thunderpede as they slowly made their way through the passages. He flew up on the lest leg where she didn’t fit anymore crudely treated hid wounds then promptly passed out.
When he woke again, it was in his own cot. His shoulder was bandaged, awkward but functional, the rags were discarded in a bloody heap beside him. He lay sprawled across his fur pile, soaking in the warmth… though something about the heat felt off.
Too warm.
He grunted and rolled off, dragging his aching limbs toward the tunnels below. He soared down. The air thickened with heat as he descended. At the lowest chamber, he found them—his little thunderpedes, panting in a shallow pool of molten rock. The room simmered with suffocating warmth.
Jack fired a few shots of frost against the walls, cooling them. Trying to make the heat bearable for himself. He moved closer, letting his ice spread across the stone floor. Steam hissed around his claws. The babies perked up immediately, squealing in delight as they scampered over to him, nuzzling his chilled wings and tail. He hissed a bit at the contact letting even more frost into the air to cool them so their touch would be bearable.
He lay with them for a while, but his mind wouldn’t settle. He didn’t know how long he’d been out—but their mother should have returned by now.
His stomach growled. The little ones looked hungry too.
With a weary groan, he stood and headed back into the snowstorm.
The wind howled against his hurting body, but Jack pushed through, sinking his claws into the snow to drag back a decent-sized deer. Poor stag didn’t stand a chance in this weather, even injured he was in his element. As he neared the cave entrance, he caught something strange in the sky.
Lights.
Not lightning.
Dragons.
Jack froze, then abandoned the deer and launched into the air. Snow whipped around him as he climbed into the chaos above. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Dragons wheeled through the air, some fleeing, others colliding. Flaming projectiles streaked across the sky.
Jack dodged them with sharp jerks and turns, crying out, calling for Huffjaw.
No answer.
Then, humans. The girl on the Nadder. Another rider on a Gronckle. Their attention seemed focused below.
Jack spiraled through the clouds, the temperature plummeting as panic took hold. The snow thickened. Hail began to fall, bludgeoning dragons and riders alike. He could feel the temperature bending around his body, ice forming in the storm’s core.
Then, something new. A dragon he recognized. Broad wings. A rider standing tall on its back, scanning the clouds.
A Windgnasher struggled under them, one leg bound by a rope, tethered somewhere below.
Without hesitation, the human on the dark dragon crouched, then jumped.
Jack reeled in surprise. As wings unfurled from the human’s back.
He burbled in disbelief as a dorsal fin snapped outward from the figure’s form. The human glided with practiced ease, slashing the rope clean before banking back toward his dragon.
And then, a flash of hail struck his wing.
He faltered. Swerved.
The Windgnasher’s tail clipped him midair with a sickening crack.
The human fell.
Without thinking, Jack dove after him.
The storm roared around them. Jack’s wings folded tight to his sides as he gained speed, tail angled to catch the wind. He reached the figure just before the sharp black edge of a ship collided with them. He grabbed him and swerved.
A screech echoed overhead, but Jack didn’t look back.
He veered hard and sped around the island, vanishing into the tunnels once more. Twisting through stone corridors, he carried the figure gently into his den and laid him on the furs.
A crack lined the side of his head. Jack hovered, crooning anxiously. The figure stirred, breathed.
Alive.
Jack let out a heavy sigh and moved to investigate the wound. The scales were cracked and sunken until some of them fell away to reveal…
Hair.
Skin.
Oh. A helmet.
Jack gently pried it free.
A young man—blood streaked across one side of his face, jaw clenched in pain, but breathing steady.
Jack padded to the back of the cave, melting a patch of ice to wet his last remaining cloth. He mourned its loss. Winter made scavenging nearly impossible. Fewer Vikings doing laundry outdoors meant fewer supplies left out to “borrow.”
Still. Carefully, he wrapped the cloth around his claw and cleaned the blood from the human’s brow. The man was mumbling something about how he would prefer hands. Jack scoffed, like he had many options.
When he was finished, he sat back on his haunches, exhaling slowly.
What in the name of thor was he doing?
Helping lost children through a storm was one thing. He was used to the threats and screams. But bringing one here, to his den, puts them all at risk.
Yet…
This human had saved a dragon. Risked his life without hesitation.
And the dragons he traveled with, though he’d only caught glimpses, hadn’t looked abused. They’d looked…bonded.
Jack sighed again, rubbing the bruised spot where the Nadder’s spine had struck him. He couldn’t just toss this one outside. Not now. He’d never survive the storm.
His stomach rumbled. His ears perked up in anticipation. The deer.
He glanced at the sleeping figure, then trotted down to the northern tunnel entrance. The snow had begun to bury the carcass. His jaws and claws got coated in its blood with effort it took to drag it out of its frozen spot..
He hauled the deer to the thunderpedes first. They squealed in joy, burning the meat into sizzling portions in seconds. Jack tore off a leg with practiced ease and left them to the rest.
Back up through the winding tunnels he went, the leg clutched in his tail. He reached the main chamber, halted when he heard shuffling ahead..
He padded softly to the entrance, letting out a curl of cold mist.
The human was standing, flaming weapon drawn.
Pointing at his belongings.