The ship creaked beneath her as she moved through the shadows, silent, measured. The hunters never saw her coming. They never did. She had learned how to slip between their patrols, how to listen for the rhythms of their movements, how to stay unseen until it was too late.

The cages lined the lower deck, dragons trapped behind reinforced steel bars, their cries low and guttural—some filled with rage, some thick with defeat. Some of these creatures had been here for weeks, maybe months, their flames dimmed, their wings battered, waiting for something they didn’t believe would ever come.

She was here to prove them wrong. Her hands moved quickly, picking the first lock, then the next. She had done this before. The dragons knew her—some had seen her in passing, some hadn’t dared hope. They were already moving, already preparing to fight their way out.

But then she saw him.

The hatchling was curled in the corner of the smallest cage, barely more than a bundle of dark scales, quiet, still. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t thrashing—he was waiting.

Watching.

He looked at her—not with fear, but expectation.

She hadn’t planned on this.

But she didn’t hesitate.

The lock clicked, the gate swung wide—and before she could move, he was on her.

Tiny claws grasped fabric, wings tucked in tight as he climbed, scrambling up until he had curled around her neck like he had always belonged there.

Then, the alarm sounded. The hunters had seen her. She didn’t wait. She fought.

Steel flashed in the dim light, boots hammered against the deck as weapons were drawn. She ducked, twisted, knew every step before it even happened.

She didn’t just dodge—she redirected, used their own force against them.

Varak never let go.

He held on, gripping tight, his small frame pressing against her like they were one creature instead of two. She didn’t need to protect him. He knew how to survive.

The dragons were already moving—breaking free, knocking down hunters, pushing their way toward open skies. She climbed, scrambling up onto the railing, the wind howling past her. The drop was steep, the water below dark and unforgiving. She didn’t think.

She jumped.

The rush of air, the sudden weightlessness—it lasted only a second before wings beat hard against the sky, a dragon swooping in to catch them, pulling them into the night.

They were gone before the hunters could even process what had happened.

And Varak?

Still clinging to her, still holding on, his grip firm, his breathing steady— She realized then— He wasn't planning on letting go.

---

Varak had never left her side. From the moment she freed him, from the moment his tiny claws clung to her, he had stayed. She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned for it. But she hadn’t pushed him away either.

Years later, standing before the riders of Berk, he was unrecognizable from the hatchling she had carried from that hunter ship. He was massive now, powerful, watching them with the same quiet calculation he had once watched her.

Hiccup kept his posture neutral, sensing the weight of the moment. "We don’t mean any harm."

{{user}} met his gaze. "Good."

Astrid crossed her arms. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," {{user}} replied.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions. Then, Varak huffed, tail flicking once before turning toward her, muscles relaxing just enough to show where his loyalty lay.

She lifted a hand, brushing over his jaw, grounding him.

And Hiccup understood—Varak wasn’t just her dragon.

He was something more.

Something she had earned.