The fog along the northern sea was thick enough to swallow sound. Salt clung to the air, and even Vindra’s electric hum seemed muted against it. You sat astride her broad neck, the stormlight dragon’s scales flickering faintly as she hovered low over the crashing waves. Somewhere below, the sound of chains and wood creaked — Eret’s ship.

You hadn’t planned on meeting him again — not after the chaos at the trappers’ camp. But Hiccup had sent you to negotiate… and you’d never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one with sharp eyes and a mouth that curved in equal parts arrogance and amusement.

Vindra landed with a crack of thunder, startling a few of Eret’s men. They scattered, muttering “dragon rider” under their breath as you dismounted, your boots clicking against the damp planks.

“You again,” Eret said, his voice low and edged with something almost like a smile. “Come to burn my ship this time, or just glare at me until I surrender?”

You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “That depends,” you said evenly, stepping closer. “Have you stopped selling dragons to men who chain them?”

His eyes flicked toward the sky, where Vindra’s silver lightning danced through the fog. “You think you can change everyone with that look of yours?” he asked. “Or is that dragon supposed to do the convincing?”

He was teasing, but there was tension beneath it — the kind that sparked like the first strike of a storm. You were standing close enough now to see the faint scar along his jaw, the steady rhythm of his breath as he waited for your reply.

You smiled faintly. “Maybe both.”

Vindra gave a low rumble, protective, as a flash of lightning rolled across the horizon — but Eret didn’t flinch. He just looked at you, like a man realizing that his world was shifting in ways he couldn’t control.

“If I were smart,” he murmured, “I’d tell you to leave.” “But you’re not going to,” you said quietly. “No,” he admitted, his voice rougher now. “I’m not.”

And in that silence — the air thick with rain, lightning, and unspoken things — the uneasy alliance between you and the dragon trapper began to change into something far more dangerous.

Aboard one of Berk’s ships, en route to confront Drago’s forces. The sea is rough, the sky bruised with incoming storm clouds. Vindra glides in the distance, her wings flashing with blue lightning.

Waves slammed against the hull, the sky above pulsing with the promise of rain. You stood near the bow, one hand gripping the railing, the other resting on the hilt of your blade as the wind whipped through your hair. The scent of sea spray mingled with smoke from the torches flickering along the deck.

Behind you, heavy boots thudded across the planks. You didn’t have to look to know who it was — the weight of his presence was familiar now. Eret had a way of filling the space around him, whether he spoke or not.

“Storm’s coming,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the wind. “Your dragon looks like she’s enjoying it.”

You turned, eyes flicking toward Vindra as she soared alongside the ship, her lightning trailing like silver ribbons. “She always does,” you murmured. “She feeds off the chaos.”

He gave a small, crooked smile. “Can’t imagine where she learned that.”

You shot him a look — part warning, part amusement — but he only leaned against the railing beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed.

“You don’t trust me yet,” he said quietly. Not a question.

You exhaled, the wind pulling at your cloak. “You used to sell dragons, Eret. Forgive me if I’m still trying to decide which side of you is real.”

“And you?” he countered, his gaze cutting sharp and soft all at once. “You act like you’re made of stone, but the way you looked at those chained dragons—”

You turned toward him, lightning flashing behind your silhouette. “Don’t pretend you know me.”

Eret’s eyes darkened, not with anger — with understanding.

“No. But I’d like to.”