The Lost King’s Legacy

The sun was high over Berk, casting golden light across the training grounds as the dragons lounged nearby, their scales glinting under the clear sky. The Riders milled about, their voices rising in animated bursts of chatter still abuzz from the morning's events. Hiccup approached Lyra with his usual thoughtful stride, brushing a faint smudge of ash from his tunic. His tone was calm yet curious, carrying the weight of someone seeking genuine insight.

"Lyra," he began, his expression earnest, "after this morning, it's clear you've got a way with dragons that's… different. And I think we could all learn from that. What do you think? Can you help us improve our bonds with our dragons?"

The gentle murmur of conversation between the Riders stilled as they turned toward Lyra, curiosity lighting up their expressions. Even Snotlout, still nursing his bruised pride from earlier, perked up slightly, though he feigned indifference with an exaggerated yawn. Astrid stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp gaze unwavering as she studied Lyra. "We're good riders," she said, her voice steady but probing, "but there's always room to grow. What do you think we're missing?"

Lyra remained quiet for a moment, her emerald eyes sweeping over the group. Her gaze lingered on each of them—their stances, the way they stood with their dragons, the subtle postures that revealed the depth of their bonds. Behind her, Lexy stood motionless, her crystalline scales shimmering faintly under the sunlight, a perfect picture of stillness and untapped power.

Lyra exhaled softly, her expression shifting from observation to warmth. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but carried a clarity that made everyone lean in. "You're strong riders," she said, her words measured. "That much is clear. But sometimes, strength isn't enough. It's about understanding your dragon—not just what it can do, but how it wants to do it. Each dragon is unique. It has its instincts, its preferences, its strengths. And if you can learn to work with those instead of just commanding them, your bond becomes more than a partnership—it becomes unbreakable."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, the gravity of them settling over the group. Hiccup's gaze flicked briefly to Toothless, who tilted his head and chirped softly, as though agreeing. Astrid nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as she considered the meaning behind Lyra's words.

"So, it's not just about pushing them harder or faster?" Astrid asked, her voice curious but skeptical.

Lyra shook her head gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It's about balance," she explained. "Your dragons trust you, but you have to trust them just as much. When you understand how they move, what they're naturally drawn to, and where their strengths lie, you stop fighting their instincts and start amplifying them."

Snotlout straightened, his earlier defeat momentarily forgotten. "Yeah, well, Hookfang and I already have a bond like that," he said, gesturing flamboyantly toward the lounging Monstrous Nightmare. "So, we're good, right?"

Lyra arched an eyebrow, her gaze briefly flicking to Hookfang, who was pointedly ignoring Snotlout's boasts. "Even the best bonds can grow stronger," she said, her tone calm but firm. "There's always more to learn."

Astrid's gaze sharpened as she turned to Stormfly, running a hand along the Nadder's neck. "And where do we start?"

Lyra's expression softened further as she watched the Riders' collective interest grow. "We start by listening," she said simply, her hand resting lightly on Lexy's smooth neck. "Your dragons already know their own potential. They've been waiting for you to help them bring it out."

Astrid nodded, clearly interested. "And how do we start?"

Lyra's gaze shifted to Stormfly, the sleek Deadly Nadder standing tall behind Astrid. The dragon's sharp, intelligent eyes darted between the two women, her bright blue scales shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Stormfly tilted her head, a questioning trill escaping her as if curious about the sudden attention.

"Let's start with you, Astrid," Lyra said, stepping closer. Her tone carried the weight of experience, and her emerald-green eyes studied Stormfly with care. "Stormfly is a remarkable dragon—fast, precise, and agile. But there's more to her than that."

Astrid smirked, her hand resting confidently on Stormfly's neck. The Nadder let out a soft squawk, leaning into Astrid's touch. "I know she's got more to give. What's your take?"

Lyra gestured toward Stormfly, her voice thoughtful as she began. "Stormfly reminds me of Solara, a Deadly Nadder ridden by King Aldrin—Nyx's father. Solara was known throughout Aether for her precision and agility. Aldrin didn't just rely on her speed or her spines; he turned her agility into a weapon. Deadly Nadders can outmaneuver nearly any opponent, especially in areas with obstacles. Solara excelled at using terrain to her advantage. She would lure enemies into tight spaces—forests, narrow passes, even dense city streets—where her precision gave her the upper hand."

Astrid's brows furrowed slightly as she considered the suggestion, her interest piqued. "Using terrain to enhance her abilities? We've done some of that, but maybe not enough."

Lyra nodded, her tone firm but encouraging. "Exactly. Stormfly's precision is her greatest strength. When you're in open air, she's fast. But in environments with obstacles, where tight turns and quick reactions matter, she can be untouchable. The key is to push her reflexes—to make her sharper, more instinctive. Practice weaving through Berk's forests or cliffs. Teach her to read the terrain as part of the battle, not just the background."

As if understanding the challenge, Stormfly let out a determined squawk and nudged Astrid's side playfully. Astrid chuckled, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she swung onto Stormfly's saddle. "All right, girl," she said, gripping the reins. "Let's see what you've got."

Stormfly crouched low, her wings spreading wide as she launched herself into the air with a powerful leap. Her movement stirred the grass below, and the wind whistled past as she climbed higher. Astrid guided her toward the edge of the training grounds, where a cluster of trees stood tall and dense.

"Start weaving between them, Stormfly!" Astrid called, her voice clear and commanding.

The Nadder responded immediately, her sleek body twisting as she dove toward the trees. Her wings beat rhythmically, and she angled herself sharply, aiming for a narrow gap between two trunks. At first, her movements were slightly unsteady; a wingtip clipped a branch, sending a scattering of leaves into the air. Stormfly squawked in frustration, her tail flicking as she adjusted mid-flight.

"Keep going!" Astrid urged, her voice steady and encouraging. "You've got this, girl. Focus!"

Lyra watched from below, her arms crossed as a small smile tugged at her lips. Stormfly looped back, her blue wings gleaming in the sunlight. On her second attempt, her movements were smoother—her turns tighter, her angles sharper. She darted between the trees with growing confidence, her tail barely grazing a branch as she twisted around a trunk.

Astrid's face lit up with determination, her grip on the reins firm. She leaned forward slightly, guiding Stormfly into a faster pace. The Nadder dipped low, almost skimming the ground before pulling up sharply to avoid a thicket of brush. Her wings flared wide as she twisted through a particularly narrow gap, emerging on the other side with a triumphant screech.

"That's it, Stormfly!" Astrid called, her voice filled with pride.

Lyra nodded approvingly as Stormfly looped back, her breathing steady despite the exertion. "It's not about getting it perfect right away," Lyra said, her tone carrying a gentle authority. "It's about learning and adapting—together. Stormfly's instincts are already strong; now it's about sharpening them, refining them into something truly extraordinary."

Astrid guided Stormfly back to the group, the dragon landing with a graceful sweep of her wings. The Nadder's sharp eyes sparkled, and she let out a pleased trill as Astrid slid off her saddle.

"She's got it," Astrid said, her voice brimming with pride. She turned to Lyra, her expression both grateful and eager. "Thanks for the advice. We've got some work to do, but I can already tell this is going to make a difference."

Lyra smiled faintly, her gaze lingering on Stormfly, who stood tall and proud beside Astrid. Shifting her attention, Lyra's eyes landed on Snotlout. He was doing his best to feign indifference, arms crossed and posture stiff, but the slight tilt of his head betrayed his curiosity. Hookfang lounged behind him, flames curling lazily from his nostrils, a faint glow radiating from his scales as though the dragon was already anticipating what was to come.

Snotlout broke the silence first, his voice attempting nonchalance. "What about me and Hookfang?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You've got something better than 'just breathe fire harder'?"

Lyra's lips twitched into a subtle smile, her voice steady and measured. "Hookfang has incredible firepower—there's no denying that. But fire alone doesn't win battles. It's how you use it that makes the difference."

Snotlout raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms tighter as if to shield himself from what he assumed was criticism. "We've got firepower in spades," he said, puffing out his chest. "What more could we possibly need?"

Lyra's expression softened, but her tone held a quiet authority. "Control," she said simply. "Monstrous Nightmares aren't just about destruction. They're about presence—intimidation. My father, Commander Alaric, rode a Monstrous Nightmare named Ignis. He didn't rely on firepower to overwhelm his enemies. Instead, he used fire to control the battlefield. Ignis would create walls of fire to trap enemies, cut off escape routes, or force them into disadvantageous positions. It wasn't about burning everything in sight—it was about turning fire into a weapon of strategy."

Hookfang snorted, his head tilting slightly as though considering the idea. His eyes gleamed with interest, a flicker of intelligence behind the flame-licked facade. Snotlout, however, hesitated. His bravado faltered slightly, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Walls of fire, huh?" he muttered. "That sounds... cool, I guess. So, how do we do it?"

"Start small," Lyra advised, stepping closer to Hookfang, her tone calm and instructive. "It's not about unleashing everything at once. Focus on precision. Hookfang can produce controlled bursts—guide them to specific areas. You're not just attacking; you're shaping the battlefield. Think of fire as a tool, not just a weapon."

Snotlout blinked, the wheels in his head clearly turning. Then, as if to mask his unease, he straightened and grinned. "All right, Hookfang," he said confidently, climbing into the saddle with renewed enthusiasm. "Let's show her what we've got!"

Hookfang roared in response, igniting his body in flames as he took to the skies. The display was as dramatic as ever, but when Snotlout tried to direct him into creating a controlled wall of fire, the first attempt fizzled into scattered bursts that barely stayed in one place. Hookfang huffed in irritation, glancing back at Snotlout as if to say, What are we doing here?

Snotlout groaned, his grip on the reins tightening. "Come on, Hookfang! We're better than this!"

Lyra's voice carried over the training grounds, firm but encouraging. "Take it slow, Snotlout. Precision takes time. Trust him, and let him work with you."

Snotlout muttered under his breath but relented, guiding Hookfang for a second attempt. This time, the dragon released a more concentrated burst of fire, forming a rudimentary arc on the ground. It flickered unevenly, but the shape was clear—a step in the right direction.

Snotlout grinned, the flicker of accomplishment fueling his determination. "All right, one more time, Hookfang. We've got this!"

On the third try, Hookfang roared, releasing a stream of fire that arced cleanly across the ground, forming a shimmering, fiery barrier. The flames danced and crackled with an intensity that sent ripples of heat through the air. Snotlout whooped triumphantly, punching the air. "Did you see that? That's what I'm talking about!"

Hookfang let out a rumbling roar of pride, his flames dimming slightly as he circled back to land. Lyra approached with a small smile, nodding in approval. "Not bad," she said, her voice warm. "Keep practicing. It's not about perfection right now—it's about learning how to shape the fire, bit by bit."

Hookfang rumbled in agreement, nudging Snotlout with his snout. Snotlout, still grinning, leaned back in his saddle. "Yeah, yeah, we're awesome. I knew that already."

Lyra's smile widened faintly, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "Confidence is good, Snotlout. Just remember—Hookfang's your partner, not just your weapon."

From the sidelines, Ruffnut leaned toward Tuffnut, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Betcha he forgets that by tomorrow."

Tuffnut nodded sagely. "Five minutes, tops."

Snotlout glared at them, but his grin remained. Hookfang, on the other hand, seemed to sigh in agreement, settling onto the ground with a satisfied rumble.