Hiccup's Point of View
The little spark I had seen in her—the bold curiosity that had made her different from all the others—seemed to flicker and shrink as I crouched in front of her, waiting for her answer.
Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her rough tunic, and her cheeks flushed pink with hesitation.
"I-I'm Freya," she said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper against the rustling leaves. "I... I just wanted to see you."
"See me?" I echoed, tilting my head slightly, watching her with careful, narrowed eyes. "Why?"
Her small shoulders hunched up protectively, and she looked down, unable—or unwilling—to meet my gaze.
"Because you're not afraid," she said, even softer now. "And you're strong. I want to be like that."
I stiffened.
Her words didn't just brush old wounds.
They cut.
I studied her more closely now, seeing the trembling tension in her posture, the way she carried defiance like a battered shield, even while fear gnawed at her.
"You think I'm strong?" I asked, my voice lowering despite myself, becoming something rougher, something bitter.
Freya nodded hesitantly, glancing up at me just for a second before darting her eyes away again.
"Everyone else runs away from you," she said quietly. "But you're not scared of them. Not the other kids. Not the adults. No one pushes you around."
The world around me seemed to sharpen, my vision narrowing.
Her words slammed into me harder than any physical blow.
Because once... that had been me.
A child who was mocked. Shoved. Beaten down. A child who bore it all in silence because he had to, because there was no other choice. A child who buried his anger so deep it poisoned him.
Until he decided enough was enough.
Until he chose to forge himself in his own hate and rage, to break the chains they'd wrapped around him.
Freya was younger mentally than I had been.
She was still waiting—still hoping—for something better.
And it infuriated me.
My blood began to boil, old fury and old pain rising like a black tide inside me.
The air around us grew heavy.
The forest stilled.
No birds.
No insects.
Nothing.
Even the wind seemed to vanish.
My face darkened, the rage bleeding through the mask I wore. My fists clenched at my sides, claws biting into my palms.
I didn't bother hiding it.
The killing intent radiated from me, thick and suffocating—an invisible force that would have sent any seasoned warrior three times Freya's size fleeing in terror.
But Freya didn't run.
She froze, eyes wide and confused, staring at me as if she couldn't comprehend the emotions boiling off my skin.
Confused... but not afraid.
Not truly.
As if being the focus of someone's raw, furious power was something foreign to her.
As if someone caring enough to be angry on her behalf was new.
She glanced down, noticed her discarded doll lying by her feet, and without a word, bent to pick it up.
Then—to my complete shock—she walked right up to me.
I realized, only then, that at some point during my anger I had sat down against the tree trunk, my body moving without conscious thought.
Freya looked at me for a second longer, and then—
She plopped herself right onto my lap.
Curled up like she belonged there.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She tucked her doll against her chest and leaned into me, resting her tiny head against my torso.
"You scare them," she mumbled, cuddling closer, "but I feel safe here."
I stared down at her, stunned into silence.
The killing intent vanished instantly, as if she had wiped it away with a mere touch.
For a long moment, I couldn't even think.
Only one other had ever done this.
Only Luna had ever walked into the fire of my rage and pulled me back with nothing more than her presence.
And now... this little shadow had done the same.
This runt of a girl, scarred by the same world that scarred me, had looked at the monster inside me and felt safe.
I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
So I just sat there, arms frozen awkwardly at my sides, as Freya nestled against me without a care in the world.
And for the first time in a very long time...
I felt something unfamiliar stir deep inside me.
Something warm.
Something dangerous.
Slowly, carefully, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her like something precious.
Like something that might shatter if I wasn't careful.
Freya didn't flinch. She simply pressed closer, her tiny frame relaxing against me as though she had been waiting for this her entire life.
"Freya," I murmured against the top of her head, my voice low and steady, "you're braver than anyone I've met in this miserable village. You know that?"
She tilted her head up, wide blue eyes locking onto mine with pure, unguarded curiosity.
"Really?" she asked, almost disbelieving.
"Really," I said with a faint, almost reluctant smirk. I tightened my grip on her ever so slightly, grounding both of us. "You've been following me since the arena. That takes guts most adults around here don't even have."
Freya giggled—a soft, hesitant sound, like she wasn't used to laughing freely. It struck something deep inside me, something I hadn't felt stir in another being other then Luna and my small pack at times.
"I wanted to learn," she admitted, voice small but firm. "How you scare them. How you make them listen to you. I want to be strong like you."
I studied her, really looked at her.
She wasn't just a child chasing after a hero.
She was surviving.
Fighting to keep her spirit alive in a place that crushed anything different under its heel.
I knew that struggle.
I lived it.
"You don't have to scare people to be strong," I said quietly, brushing a lock of her messy hair away from her forehead with surprising gentleness. "But... if that's what you want..." My voice deepened slightly. "If you want to make them fear you, if you want to make them listen..."
I leaned closer, my breath brushing against her ear.
"I'll teach you."
Her eyes widened with a light so fierce it almost hurt to see.
"You will?" she whispered, her voice trembling on the edge of desperate hope.
I nodded, slow and certain.
"I'll do more than that," I said, my voice a vow carved in iron. "I'll protect you. No one will hurt you while I'm around. No one will ever lay a hand on you again."
Freya's smile was small—shy, almost scared of its own existence—but it was real.
She clutched my tunic tighter in her small fists and snuggled closer into my chest, seeking warmth, seeking safety.
Trusting me without hesitation.
I didn't deserve it.
And yet...
I would be damned if I let anyone break it.
—————————-
Freya nestled closer against me, her small hands lightly clutching my shirt as she breathed in the silence, wide awake and content. I could feel her warmth soaking into me, her heartbeat steady against my chest as we both watched the endless horizon where the sky bled into the ocean.
A vow formed in my heart.
Silent. Absolute.
Whoever dared to harm her...
Whoever even so much as thought about it...
Would die.
Not quickly.
Not cleanly.
I would ensure that every broken bone, every scream, every drop of spilled blood would stand as a warning.
This one is mine.
Freya wasn't just another forgotten soul adrift in Berk's cruelty.
She was my little shadow now.
My hatchling.
My responsibility.
And anyone foolish enough to threaten her... would face the full fury of what they themselves had forged inside me.
I tightened my arms around her protectively, feeling the faint, pleased hum she gave in response. She tilted her head slightly, pressing closer without a word, accepting my silent promise without needing to hear it.
She had done what only one other had ever managed.
She had torn through the walls I had built around myself.
Walked straight through the fire of my rage without fear.
Carved a place beside me with nothing but her stubborn will and quiet faith.
Just like Luna.
A slow, dangerous smile curled my lips.
I didn't know if this was fate, coincidence, or some cruel cosmic joke.
But I knew one thing with a certainty that sank into my bones.
Freya was mine now.
And nothing—not man, not beast, not even fate itself—would ever take her away from me.