The sea grew calmer as Berk came fully into view.
Jagged cliffs rose from the water like the spines of some colossal beast, familiar and imposing against the bright sky. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys along the cliffside village, and the faint clang of metal echoed across the harbor.
The ship slowed as it entered the bay, sails easing as the crew prepared to dock. Ropes were readied, boots thudded against wood, and voices rose with the kind of relief only survivors carried.
Lucian stepped onto the deck beside the others as the harbor loomed closer. Simba stretched and yawned at his feet, blinking against the sunlight.
Eric stood near the railing, taking in the island with quiet curiosity.
"Rough place," he said, not unkindly.
"Grows on you," Lucian muttered.
The ship docked with a heavy thud, ropes thrown and secured quickly. Vikings gathered along the pier, curiosity written plainly on their faces as they recognized familiar figures returning.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
They disembarked one by one.
At the far end of the pier, two familiar figures waited.
Stoick stood with his arms crossed, broad shoulders blocking half the dock, his expression carved from stone. Beside him was Gobber, squinting at the ship with one hand shading his eyes.
"Well, I'll be—" Gobber started. "They are back."
A blur dropped silently from the far end of the ship, the figure straightened, and blended into the crowd as if he had always been there.
Stoick's gaze swept the returning group as they approached, his frown deepening with every step.
Then Eric stepped forward.
He adjusted his posture, smoothed his coat, and raised his arm politely.
"Prince Eric of Merlune," he said, offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Stoick looked at the outstretched hand. Then at Eric, then back at the hand. A long beat passed. Finally, Stoick reached out and clasped it firmly.
"Stoick," he said. "Chief of Berk. Nice meeting you too."
Eric winced slightly at the strength but kept his smile.
Stoick released him and immediately turned his attention to the others.
Lucian felt that gaze settle like a weight.
"So," Stoick said, eyes narrowing as he counted faces. "Did you have a good trip?"
Fishlegs laughed nervously.
"Ahhh… well… we did, hehe."
Stoick harrumphed.
His eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary on Hiccup, who had somehow appeared among them without anyone noticing when.
"Mm," Stoick grunted.
He turned back to Eric. "What brings a prince to Berk?"
Eric inclined his head respectfully. "I was travelling far north and met them at an island. Circumstances made it… safer to travel together."
Stoick nodded once, accepting that.
"You're welcome to stay," he said. "Berk's no palace, but—"
"Perhaps another time," Eric replied smoothly. "My kingdom requires my attention. I only wished to see them home safely."
Stoick studied him for a moment, then nodded again.
"Fair winds, then."
Eric turned to Lucian and the others. "Take care of yourselves."
The ropes were cast off. The vessel began to pull away from the dock.
As the ship departed, Astrid's gaze narrowed.
She turned slowly toward Hiccup.
Then nudged him sharply in the side with her elbow.
"Where were you?" she asked.
Hiccup startled, forcing a laugh too quickly.
"Uh—what? I was in my bed," he said. "You know. Sleeping."
Astrid frowned.
"You weren't there."
Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess you just missed me."
Astrid didn't smile.
______
Stoick turned on his heel and strode toward the Great Mead Hall.
The others followed in uneasy silence, boots echoing against stone as they passed between curious Vikings. Gobber limped along beside Stoick, hook tapping rhythmically against the floor.
The doors of the hall swung open.
Warmth and noise rushed out, firelight, the smell of smoke and meat, murmured voices cutting off as the returning group entered.
Stoick took his seat at the head of the long table.
The gang sat opposite him, shifting uncomfortably.
Stoick raised one arm.
He lifted a single finger and slowly moved it back and forth.
Without looking, a Viking woman at the side of the hall tossed a heavy wooden mug through the air.
Stoick caught it cleanly.
He took a long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and set the mug down with a solid thunk.
His eyes locked onto them.
"So," he said calmly, dangerously "care to tell me where you all went?"
The gang exchanged looks.
Then—
"We were just—" "—checking something out—" "—it wasn't that far—" "—technically it was a learning experience—" "—there were dragons—" "—not ours—" "—well maybe one—"
The hall erupted in overlapping voices.
Stoick's brow twitched.
His hands slammed down onto the table with a thunderous BANG.
Silence fell instantly.
Stoick slowly turned his head.
"Fishlegs."
Fishlegs flinched like he'd been struck by lightning.
"Yes—! Uh—I mean—Chief!"
Stoick leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Where," he said slowly, "did you all go?"
Fishlegs swallowed.
"Uhm… ahh…"
His hands fidgeted in his lap.
Stoick's voice dropped lower.
"Fishlegs."
Fishlegs snapped. "We went to the Northern Market to see the auction and we saw a Night Fury—!"
He clamped both hands over his mouth.
Too late.
The hall went dead quiet.
Stoick stood.
"You went to the Northern Market?" he growled.
The name alone carried weight, criminals, slavers, mercenaries, things even Vikings avoided.
"That place is crawling with the worst kinds of people," Stoick continued, pacing slowly.
"And you didn't tell a single soul where you were going."
No one dared look up. Stoick stopped in front of them.
"How," he demanded, "did you even get there?"
Tuffnut raised his hand proudly. "We snuck onto Trader Johann's boat."
Ruffnut nodded. "Like ghosts."
Tuffnut continued, crossing his arms. "And when he caught us, we paid him."
Gobber's head snapped up.
"Paid him with what?"
"Monstrous Nightmare scales," Tuffnut said cheerfully. "Five of 'em."
Gobber froze.
"…Five?"
"Yes," Tuffnut confirmed.
Gobber's one good eye slowly widened.
"Were those," he asked carefully,
"my dragon scales?"
"Yes," Tuffnut said again, without hesitation.
The entire gang turned on him.
"TUFFNUT!"
Gobber jabbed his hook toward them.
"You lot!" he barked. "Those scales were for reforgin' armor!"
He glared at Tuffnut. "You'll pay for every single one."
Tuffnut blinked. "In money?"
Gobber leaned closer. "In labor."
Tuffnut paled.
Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.
When he looked back at them, his expression was stern but beneath it, something else stirred.
Concern.
"And you saw a Night Fury," Stoick said quietly.
"Yes, we have"
Stoick straightened.
"We'll deal with that later," he said.
"For now, none of you leave Berk without my knowledge again. Ever."
His gaze swept over them.
"Understood!"