The Rebirth Of A Dragon

Astrid's Point of View

He walked away.

Just like that.

No triumphant roar, no taunts, no theatrical exit—just silence, cold and deafening, wrapping around the arena like a noose as he disappeared through the gate.

And we didn't move.

We couldn't.

I don't know how long we stayed like that—kneeling in the dust, our bodies shaking from more than just exhaustion. It wasn't physical anymore. It wasn't bruises or cracked ribs or sore muscles.

This was fear.

Real fear.

Not the kind we brag about after a raid. Not the kind that comes from facing a dragon with an axe in hand.

This was the fear of something we couldn't fight. Something that had always been there. Watching. Waiting. Smiling.

Hiccup.

No—that wasn't Hiccup. Not the one we thought we knew. Not the stammering, clumsy boy we rolled our eyes at or shoved into mud puddles. That… that thing we saw today?

That was something else.

Something monstrous.

Something forged in pain.

Gobber was the first to move. He stood slowly, with a stiffness I'd never seen in him before—not the kind that came from old battle wounds, but from something deeper. Something broken.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at the spot where Hiccup had stood, his jaw clenched, his expression hollow.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and forced myself to stand. My legs felt weak. My stomach twisted. Every scar on his body was burned into my memory like brands—proof of everything he endured while we laughed and trained and pretended we were strong.

Around me, the others stirred.

Snotlout didn't say a word. He leaned against the arena wall, arms wrapped around himself like they might keep the shame from leaking out. His lips were pressed tight. His eyes were glassy.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut weren't laughing anymore. They sat huddled together, backs against the cage that still held the Gronckle. I could hear Ruffnut muttering something over and over under her breath, like a prayer.

Fishlegs wiped his face, but his hands were shaking too much to do much good. He looked like he'd aged ten years in a single morning.

None of us could make eye contact.

Not with each other.

And definitely not with Gobber.

Because none of us had an answer to the only question that mattered.

What have we done?

He let us do it. That's what haunts me most.

He let us mock him. He let us shove him, belittle him, ignore him. Every time we tried to break him, we were sharpening the blade he buried in our backs today.

And the worst part?

He was right.

He could've ended any of us at any time. He could've crushed us. Silently. Without warning.

But he didn't.

Because we weren't worth the effort.

I wanted to deny it. Wanted to scream that we didn't know, that we never meant for this to happen.

But that would be a lie.

We knew.

Not everything. Not the full depth of it. But we knew he hurt. We knew he didn't belong. And we didn't care. Because it was easier to look away. Easier to laugh. Easier to pretend our own insecurities didn't matter so long as someone else looked weaker.

And now?

Now we were the ones kneeling.

We were the prey.

"He's not the same," Fishlegs finally whispered.

"No," Gobber said, his voice hollow. "He hasn't been for a long time."

I turned to look at him, searching for some kind of answer. Some hope.

"You knew?"

Gobber didn't look at me. "I suspected. But not like this. Not…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "Not what he's become."

I clenched my fists. "Then why didn't you stop it?"

That earned me a look. Not angry. Just tired.

"Would you have listened?" he asked.

And that shut me up fast.

Would we have listened? If he had warned us? If he had told us that Hiccup wasn't weak?

No. We would've laughed. Mocked him too. Called it pity.

We didn't want the truth.

We wanted the target.

"I thought he was weak," Snotlout croaked, finally speaking. "All this time, I thought he was a joke. I was proud of being stronger than him."

Ruffnut let out a hollow laugh. "We weren't stronger. We were just safe. Because he let us be."

Tuffnut nodded slowly. "It was never strength. Just mercy."

The word lingered.

Mercy.

We had been spared—not because we earned it, but because we didn't deserve the punishment yet.

I looked back at the gates he'd vanished through.

Was this what he wanted? Was this the point? To show us just how helpless we were? To strip away every shred of pride and force us to see what he really was?

Or was it worse?

Was this just the beginning?

I felt sick.

"He said we live because he allows it," Fishlegs whispered.

Gobber finally stepped forward, his voice firmer now. "He's angry. And hurt. But he hasn't lost himself completely."

I frowned. "Are you sure?"

He looked me in the eye. "No."

We stood there for a long time, all of us staring at nothing, too shaken to speak, too ashamed to leave.

Because we weren't afraid of what Hiccup would do.

We were afraid of what he already had.

He didn't need to strike us down.

He didn't need to take revenge.

He had already won.

He shattered our illusions. Crushed the lies we wrapped ourselves in. He ripped open every weakness we buried under bravado and bluster, and he did it without raising a finger against us.

I was a warrior.

Or I thought I was.

But now?

Now I knew what it meant to stand before something you couldn't understand. Something that had been forged in silence, sharpened by pain, and hidden behind a mask of weakness until it no longer needed to pretend.

He didn't just become a monster.

We made him one.

And I didn't know how we'd ever live with that.