A/N: Holy. Hell. On. A. High. Wire.

33 reviews, and only 3 little PROLOGUES. NOT EVEN CHAPTERS, JUST PROLOGUES. LIKE - WHAT - WHAT EVEN -spazzes into the sunset-

Omfg, you guys are fricken fan-TASTIC, and way too good to me. Thank you so, so, so, so, so much. I can't even, like, fathom how many emails I've gotten, full of reviewers and followers and favorites and GAH. Seriously, bbys, I love you all.

And, because I love you all so much, I even leave you gifts. The first is a new chapter, aaaand: go to summerminch dot tumblr dot com /tagged/ff+edit and look for the Rise of the Tangled Brave Dragons post for the second! I worked hard on that right there, just to please you guys, so I hope you all love it!

A little insight on this piece here: originally, I wasn't going to make a Hiccup Prologue, because it was extremely spoiler-y for the rest of the story, as I have this thing called a plot, and it needs to be followed. But, I figured out a way to give you all the information without giving too much away. Therefore, here's Hiccup's Prologue story, and how he somehow has managed to become who he is today.

CS: Hiccup feels like he'll never be able to figure out how he became immortal, but if Toothless could talk, he would have all the answers.


"G'dnight, buddy."

Do not think of me wrongly or any less weak or wise, but as strange as one might think it is for a Dragon of my magnitude to do, I myself do not find it any less intriguing as the next thought from the mind, that while he sleeps, I watch my person like a common lap-dog of modern day times.

As normal, as he's done for a thousand years before this, he will undo his metal contraption booted up on his leg created from his own hand (many a-time has it broken, more than countable, and many times he's been forced to remake it's properties), hang it upon a tight enough branch on this forsaken tree, or any tree, in hopes that while we rest, that it does not slip. He will bury into the bark, or in other cases, my side, to keep warm, especially in this forsaken forest that never seems to thaw. Such as this night. His choice, not mine, to stay here for a prolonged period of time, but I do not argue. There is a friend arriving here soon of importance to my person, and I will not take away his interaction with my distaste for the land I tread on.

It has been just him and I for the longest time, he unable to seen by the world he still lives on, I just the same fate, however my faith in him is undoubted that one day we will be free of this curse.

It was not always like this, either, us, frozen, never aging, seemingly forever just the two of us in this state of mutual loneliness.

At a time, before meeting my person, I honest did not believe any mortal could possibly stand by my side, and that human's were simply underneath my presence. I will admit to being a main source of Berk's terrorizing and death. However, he showed me otherwise, that everything I knew about his world, was wrong, and for that, and many other times, I owe him and the people of the Earth, my loyalty, and my life.

Yet, at that time, we were still simply flesh and bone, able to move and grow and go at any moment. Morbid as it seems, there was always the thought of death that eased my screaming soul and guilty inner thoughts - one day, I would move on with my ancestors to something different, whatever lies beyond, good or bad, new or not. I know my person had the same thoughts as I, for he rambles when he is frustrated, or working.

Which, he had been doing both the night our options were taken away.

It was in Berk, another dark, heavy Winter, he was in the shop, I by his side, working on a new tail design (if I enjoyed the work of a piece, I would nudge it and him and he would scratch behind my ear and continue to put it together), until we were done. We even almost were that evening, ready to close up, until I heard the unfamiliar noise of something growing, and growling, on the wind. It wasn't fairly uncommon we were graced with the presence of a fellow Brethren Country arriving by waters, or Dragon whisking through the air, for difference, as Berk was the home of the infamous Hiccup, Dragon trainer of the Earth, my person, and I the only as they say 'tamed' Night Fury in existence with diplomacy between all Dragons.

But, unnatural this noise was, and I had to investigate.

My person scolded me for jumping onto the cluttered counter, and for my excessive leering out the window that resulted in knocking things out. He was even complaining something fierce about that Gober creature with his stories and his leg, but I paid him no mind, and instead stayed attentive to identify what was coming this way off the horizon's sable waters. I heard no shouting sailor nor flapping wings, and saw no mast or fire breath, but instead, there was a horrible, tumbling, sifting noise, like a shadow on the ground, as if shadows could move without fueling light, and make a noise at that.

But there was something approaching, whatever it may be, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was.

Until proven safe, it was a threat, and I would have perished before I let anything hurt the people of Home.

So, tumbling out the window, I bit a snarl down in my chest, a warning hum for any sort of human, or not, that this was not their territory to invade, and I was here to make very well sure it was understood.

"Toothless, shut it, will ya'?" I must have been making more noise than I originally realized, like a silly little guard dog, and not a fierce warrior as I was, and still am, as my person had brushed his oil slicked hands off on a rag made of sheep wool, dropped everything except his latest sword, and had hobbled from inside the shop, warm by the fire, to the open, where it was unsecured, unsafe, and frosty. I gave him a very zesty look to return to the cabin, however with no voice but my eyes and mute mumbling, he continued closer beyond my wishes.

A part of me to the day still wonders if he would have gone away if I had really said anything anyways.

It only took a moment, but my person reached my side long enough to lock a hand onto the metal bindings on my back that were comfortably keeping my tail piece on, saddle constructed to my scales. Not aggressively, but wondrously, his fingers moved from those pieces to my exposed neck; he was searching the tumbling waters like I was, unsure of what the strange cloud coming forward was.

"What in the -"

He was unable to finish his sentence, for this cloud had morphed and shaped and changed and moved into a straight line of, of, somethings. To the day, I have yet to really see anything else like it, however, I have my theories on what it might of been, after hearing the story the Winter Spirit we are searching for in this dinky little tree grove. Though my person has no recollection of what I have seen and remember from that evening, I recognized them immediately from the tales:


The cloud was no more than 6 galloping Mares, things I have preyed on some times before, yet, quite different as well. They were no average animals, if the flying over water confirmed that any more than normal. They sifted and moved and changed, like smoke and ash and sand into one, then six, and were twice the size of a normal deer. Yet they came at us with the force of a thousand Viking men, and without haste, plunged my person and I to the dirt. I do recall braying in an obnoxious way for the fear and safety of my human, forget me, having strange hallucinations of his death and mine, but when it all calmed, and my eyes opened, I was strapped to a wooden bench, wings encased, muzzled for the second time of my existence.

I hate muzzles, the nasty things.

"Wonderful little thing you are, dearie."

I have hated the woman since, whoever she was, who pat my head twice, as if I was a little girl. She had simply begun pulling the straps around my body tighter, and then sashayed away off to her master like a cheap prodigy. Dark hair dripping to her hips, cloak the color of ebony, she was what the human's called 'a catch'.

In my opinion, she looked rather green and unnerving, with that nervous little laugh, rather than anything I would consider mating with.

Now, I did not struggle in the beginning, as there was no lower a point than when a dragon is caged. For years before that evening, it had been a truth among my kind, and has even gotten a Dragon exiled by his own from it. So I stayed still, waiting, watching, mindlessly plotting my revenge.

I did not dwell on that thought of mutiny that night, and instead, focused my attention instead to what the woman was doing rather than how I would turn her to a furious ash for harming me and my person. From underneath a screeching Mare, she yanked my person out from underneath it's heavy steel toes, dragging him across the grassy hearth towards another shadow that manifested from no where. He was bleeding, my person, bruised, and his metal leg was dented in an unnatural way that made me want to yelp.

I will also admit to my squirming and snarling by that point; I'm sure I sounded like a beast in a trap more than a Dragon with a soft heart for the human who changed my life.

"Good work, Gothel. Bring me him."

This man I have seen after that night, unfortunately so. In legends, in books, in movies, books, poems, and even some rituals. His name is not spoke of in the human world seriously: he, there, is a comical Mr. Boogeyman who was known to leave children screaming after he has been found hidden away underneath their beds. At least, that is, until they outgrew their fear of the dark.

Dangerous? Yes. Feared? No.

I know better than to make jokes, on the contrary.

If only I could speak.

"This is truly who He has chosen to be a savior?"

I did not know what he meant, who the man was spoken of, nor did, or do, I want to, as my pawing became frenzied and my 4 hearts began pounding in unison, yet at rapid pace. Dark liquid, horrible Dragon blood had pooled where the metal scratched at my scales from all parts of my body. But I simply did not care, as she hauled my person to his feet, struggling to keep his unconscious body upright.

"A teenage boy? He is no better than the girl!" The Boogeyman was less than gentle as he moved his companion out of the way, fingers locking in my person's shirt like he was ready to rip him to pieces. His ice white fingers looked oddly transparent against the green cover of Hiccup's body. But he, Pitch Black, didn't hurt him, and instead, studied instead, like a page from a book that needed to be learned. "Ah, well," I had once more begun to growl and howl when the bony fingers of his left hand began to glow, no longer white, but black as night, filled with fire that was as dark as his heart, "he would not be my first choice, but I do not get to choose, do I?"

What he did next is almost not explainable, for I have yet to figure what it really was. One moment, he was holding the limp Hiccup up in one hand, the other drawn back, as if to strike him in the gut, but instead of his hand breaking a rib on impact like I had first expected, it went straight through my person's body, lodging into what I realized later was his heart. What he did, what he planted, is still a mystery, and, for all reasons, is to why Hiccup is still the way he is today.

I wondered, after that night, if I had suffered the same fate, and I realize I had, for in my time unconscious, I had been the experiment before the experiment the one called 'Gothel' had attempted the spell on.

And that was it. He and I, my person and I, were cursed.

"My, my, how will we ever get enough Nightmares to stomp that out of him?" Pitch's teeth gleamed in triumph when he pulled his fingers out of my person's chest, listening to his excited partner gloat. I cannot tell you what I was doing at that point, for I will not allow myself to give you those mental images of my weakness. "You planted that straight in the heart, didn't you?"

"Don't worry. The day will come where we will have a soldier." The Boogeyman turned to his woman now, hands soft on her shoulders. She gazed back at him in pure awe, as if all she saw was him. "Now, it is time to go into hiding, my dear. I will send for you when the day is upon us."

They had vanished then, gone, like they had never been there in the first place. My person had awoken a short time after that, after I had broken free, disposed of that disgusting machine, and licked the blood from his wounds affectionately. I could still hear his heartbeat as he slept, strong and steady, but there was something strange about it - it had slowed considerably. I myself noticed two of my own hearts had completely stopped, the others working overtime to keep everything going.

To this day, we are this way, both stuck. So many questions, so little answers, but we have made it a thousand years together. I'm sure we could make it just as many more; even if we were both frozen.

Quite literally; the temperature was dropping yet again.

I would make it apparent to burn a Mr. Jack Frost's butt as soon as we found the blasted little man.

But that, is an adventure for another time.