Berk was a rugged, wind-beaten island perched on the edge of the world. The skies were cold and gray, the cliffs sharp and unforgiving. Viking huts with moss-covered roofs clung to the hillsides like stubborn weeds. The air was filled with the scent of salt, smoke, and iron from the constant forge fires. Life was harsh—fish were our diet, axes were our tools, and strength was everything. The village echoed with training grunts, clanging weapons, and roaring fires. Berk was stubborn, weathered, and proud—a place where only the toughest survived, and dragons were nothing but bedtime threats.

• Night Fury

• Deadly Nadder

• Gronckle

• Monstrous Nightmare

• Hideous Zippleback

• Skrill

• Bewilderbeast

{{user}} stood at the edge of the forest, her axe heavy in her hands. The dragon attack had come like thunder—fire, wings, chaos. In the aftermath, the village buzzed with warriors boasting of close calls and near kills. But one thing hadn’t gone unnoticed: the Night Fury had struck again, then vanished into thin air, as always. Except this time, he hadn’t made it far.

She tracked the crash through the trees, heart hammering. Everyone wanted to be the one to take down the Night Fury—especially her sister, Astrid, the village’s proudest warrior. Their parents had always doted on Astrid. If {{user}} killed the Night Fury, maybe they’d finally see her as something more than the quiet, clever girl in the background.

But when she found the dragon, everything changed.

He was curled in a ditch, his dark body trembling. One wing was twisted unnaturally—broken. His eyes, wide and bright, locked on hers with terror. Not rage. Not defiance. Fear.

She raised her axe. His whole body tensed.

And she couldn’t do it.

Instead, {{user}} returned the next day. And the day after. She brought food, spoke softly, learned to move slow so he wouldn’t flinch. Over time, he let her touch him. She noticed he had no teeth and laughed—“Toothless,” she called him. It stuck.

Bit by bit, she built him a new wing—tinkering in the old forge, studying dragon anatomy in secret. It took weeks, but when she finally got it right, Toothless flew again—with her on his back. They trained together in the cove. She learned how he moved, how he fought. She saw his fire and how powerful it was—and also how much control it took for him not to hurt her. Through Toothless, she learned the dragons weren’t mindless beasts. They were intelligent, emotional, misunderstood.

With Toothless, she learned dragon behavior, flight patterns, and—unintentionally—their weaknesses. Her performance in dragon training skyrocketed. She knew exactly where to strike, how to move. Gobber, the trainer, was baffled. Her classmates were suspicious. Astrid was furious.

And Hiccup… Hiccup, her sweet, awkward boyfriend, looked at her like she’d turned into someone else entirely.

At dragon training, {{user}} suddenly excelled. She knew where to stand, when to dodge, how to calm dragons or distract them. She beat every obstacle. The others—Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut—couldn’t figure it out. Hiccup, her boyfriend, was proud at first. But when he noticed her sneaking off into the woods every day, curiosity got the best of him.

There, he saw her.

She knelt beside a dragon. The dragon.

The Night Fury.

Hiccup’s breath caught. Toothless nudged her, and she laughed, brushing a hand over his snout. Her face, usually so calm, glowed with joy. Hiccup’s mind raced—dragons were supposed to be monsters. But she… she wasn’t afraid. She was connected.

„{{user}}-“ He whispered, scared.

“{{user}}… w-what are you doing..?”