Chapter Text
The Mountain of St. Lasthybe had long been a silent sentinel, its craggy peaks piercing the Pyhirrian sky like ancient teeth. For centuries, it had stood, cloaked in mist and myth, a secret sanctuary for a clandestine few. No casual observer would ever guess that deep within its heart, life existed. Six vibrant souls, none older than fourteen, lived beneath its stony embrace, utterly unaware that their very existence was a tiny, incandescent spark in a war that had raged for almost a hundred years. Blinded by the everyday dramas of adolescence, they navigated their sequestered lives, oblivious to the monumental role fate had carved out for them.
Deep beneath the mountain, in a training chamber where the rough-hewn stone walls wept with cold, persistent moisture and the ceiling groaned like an ancient, weary beast, a searing burst of fire exploded. The sudden, violent flash illuminated the room for a split second, casting dancing shadows before plunging it back into a smoky gloom.
Hiccup, a gangly silhouette against the lingering orange glow, barely managed to duck. The fireball, a concentrated orb of furious energy, hissed with malevolent intent just inches over his head, an invisible heat wave washing over his body before it slammed into the unyielding stone wall behind him. A sickening CRACK reverberated through the cavern, leaving a charred, black scar that still smoldered. The residual heat rolled across the damp floor, a phantom touch on Hiccup’s skin. Dustin, one of their more… intense trainers, a man whose face was perpetually etched with a grim determination, had a rather extreme philosophy when it came to combat instruction.
“DO SOMETHING!!!” Dustin’s voice, raw and gravelly, tore through the thick air. “Don’t just stand there!”
Hiccup scrambled backward on hands and knees, the metallic tang of fear sharp on his tongue. His breath hitched in ragged gasps, and sweat plastered his unruly brown hair to his forehead. He raised his trembling hands, a desperate, futile gesture.
“Maybe if you could give me a warning—”
“There are no warnings in life!” Dustin roared, his voice echoing off the cavern walls. This time, the fireball erupted not as a projectile, but as a low, sweeping wave aimed directly at Hiccup’s feet.
Hiccup yelped, a strangled sound, and flung himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the searing lick of flames. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. “I—I don’t want to fight!”
“That’s your problem.” Dustin’s figure, now silhouetted by the inferno dancing in his outstretched palms, stalked toward him. The firelight flickered in his eyes, giving them a demonic glow. “Out there in Pyhirria, nobody will show you mercy. You think the war will spare cowards?”
“...no.” Hiccup muttered, the word barely a whisper, heavy with reluctant truth.
“Then, fight me! Use your powers! You’re from the Fire Tribe! Harness the fire inside you!” Dustin’s voice was a command, a challenge, a desperate plea.
“Please stop yelling at me—” Hiccup pleaded, his voice cracking.
Another fireball, larger and more menacing than the last, shot toward Hiccup. He braced himself, a fatalistic dread creeping into his bones, when suddenly, a sharp, crystalline blast of ice erupted from the doorway, smashing into the fireball midair.
BOOM!
Snow exploded between them. A sudden blinding white mist appeared and Dustin froze mid-stride. He didn't need to look. He knew that specific, biting cold. He turned slowly, his expression a mask of weary resignation.
At the doorway, framed by the cold, damp stone, stood Elsa. Her pale, platinum braid, thick and luminous, lay draped over one shoulder like a frozen waterfall. Icy mist, almost imperceptible but undeniably there, curled and danced around her fingertips, and her blue eyes, usually soft, now held a glint sharp enough to cut through stone.
“Does it bring your life joy to torture teenagers, Dustin?” she said, her voice clear and cold as a winter wind, devoid of any warmth.
Dustin sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years of exasperation. “Elsa, always the hero for your fellow friends. There’ll be consequences for this, child, mark my words.”
“Oh no.” Elsa said in a slow sarcastic tone with a theatrical shake of her head, feigning a look of exaggerated terror.
From his crumpled position in the corner, Hiccup tried desperately to suppress a laugh that bubbled up in his chest. Sometimes, he wished he possessed even a fraction of Elsa’s unwavering resolve. She stood her ground, a glacial queen against any injustice, while he... he couldn't even bring himself to raise his voice.
Dustin’s head snapped toward Hiccup, his gaze a warning, which silenced Hiccup instantly. “Training’s over anyway. Another disappointing day, Haddock.”
Hiccup wasn't shocked. Disappointment was a familiar companion in Dustin's lessons. Fighting was not his forte; a good book, the quiet rustle of pages, was infinitely more appealing. He found solace, and purpose, in the vast ocean of knowledge, his intelligence a quiet shield and a way to contribute to his makeshift family.
Dustin brushed past Elsa, a low grumble about tomorrow’s training session on his lips, and vanished into the shadowed tunnel hallway, his scowl a parting gift. Elsa walked over to Hiccup, offering a hand that was impossibly cold against his own, which he gratefully took. Her touch, a familiar chill, was no surprise given her powers.
Elsa, along with Jack, hailed from the Ice Tribe, the most remote and formidable of all the tribes. They were renowned for their stoic nature and their legendary, unyielding armies. Queen Glaze, their ruler, was not a monarch one wished to cross. Her forces were whispered about in hushed tones, credited with the total annihilation of the Sand Tribe, leaving behind only the desolate ruins of their once-glorious civilization.
“You shouldn’t let him talk to you in that manner.” Elsa’s voice was a low murmur as she pulled him to his feet.
Hiccup dusted ash from his worn tunic. “Easy for you to say. I was born with barely any firepower, meanwhile you can freeze someone with just one hand.”
Elsa raised a delicate brow. Hiccup’s fire deficiency was an open secret, a vulnerability he rarely hid. The trainers speculated it was a birth defect, perhaps an early arrival that hadn't allowed his powers to fully mature.
“And besides,” he admitted quietly, a flush rising on his cheeks. “He scares me.”
Elsa rubbed Hiccup’s shoulder gently, a silent gesture of comfort. She was fiercely protective of her friends, despite her occasional bossiness. They had all grown up without their biological parents and their only adult figures were far from ideal role models. This shared abandonment had forged an unbreakable bond, a silent promise to always protect one another, regardless of their tribal differences.
“Hey Elsa, do you think our parents ever think of us?” Hiccup asked, the question fragile and laced with a longing he rarely voiced.
“Of course,” Elsa replied, her tone firm, as if it were the most self-evident truth in the world. “They’re probably still out there looking.”
“You think?” Hiccup questioned, a spark of fragile hope igniting in his eyes.
“Absolutely!” Elsa affirmed, a small, resolute smile gracing her lips. “The Thorns of Roses will pay for keeping us hidden all this time.”
Hiccup found himself smiling at her unwavering enthusiasm. In their younger years, they had often attempted escapes through the labyrinthine tunnels, only to get hopelessly lost without a map. Their trainers would punish them, lecturing them on their unreadiness for the outside world. As they matured, a bitter disappointment settled in – none of the tunnels truly led out.
Yet, Elsa's enduring hope was infectious. She playfully challenged him to a race, dashing through the winding, rock-hewn passages toward The Mellow. Hiccup, a determined glint in his eyes, followed close behind.
The Mellow, a sprawling central cavern, served as the nexus of their existence, connecting their individual sleeping chambers like a meticulously designed ant colony. It was illuminated by the soft, ethereal glow of lantern crystals embedded in the rock walls. While not enormous, it was ample enough for the six of them to live comfortably. In one corner, Hiccup’s beloved bookshelf stood, a treasure trove of ancient texts on History, Biology, Math, and English. A crystal-clear underwater river snaked along one side, a favorite haunt for Jack after enduring Giana's 'boring' hunting lectures. Plump couches were scattered about, perfect for Rapunzel’s mid-day naps, and a collection of weights sat neatly in another corner, Merida's preferred way to stay sharp.
When they arrived, Rapunzel was already there, perched cross-legged on a sofa, meticulously re-braiding her impossibly long, golden hair. Both she and Anna belonged to the Earth Tribe, people largely uninvolved in the ongoing war. The Earth Tribe was known throughout Pyhirria for their calm and controlled demeanor – a reputation that often drew ironic laughter, given the chaotic energies of Anna and Rapunzel. Anna, a whirlwind of motion, bounced on a chair beside Merida, chattering at a speed that left even Merida looking slightly dazed. Merida, like Hiccup, was of the Fire Tribe, though her innate survival skills were far more pronounced. Their tribe was notorious for their fiery tempers and quick wits, constantly clashing with the stoic Ice Tribe. Jack, meanwhile, stood near the far wall, his tongue poking out in concentration as delicate tendrils of snow swirled around his hands.
Rapunzel was the first to look up, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Well, well,” she teased, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Elsa had to save Hiccup again?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hiccup groaned, collapsing onto a nearby cushion.
Merida snorted, a short, sharp sound. “That bad, huh?”
Anna, with an almost inhuman burst of energy, hopped off her chair. “Is dinner ready? I’m starving and I can't wait any longer!”
“You say that every day,” Rapunzel deadpanned, her gaze returning to her braid.
“And every day I mean it.” Anna insisted, her stomach rumbling audibly.
Elsa shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Don’t think so, we still haven’t heard Rachel’s screams.”
A wave of laughter rippled through the group. Rachel, their perpetually exasperated cook, had once accidentally almost incinerated the entire mountain with an overzealous application of fire power. Elsa, with her dry wit, had made a habit of playfully mocking the adults, and Rachel was certainly no exception.
“I should get back to reading the history of Pyhirria,” Hiccup said, pushing himself up and heading toward the bookshelf. “You can never know too much.”
“What else is there to know?” Merida asked, a hint of boredom in her voice. “The only interesting part is when the Queen of Pyhirria dies, leaving her three daughters; Kira, Katherine and Kern, fighting for her territory and allying themselves with different tribes.”
“There is so much more than that,” Hiccup insisted, already pulling down a thick, leather-bound tome. “This war has been going on for years trying to decide who should be the next ruler. Kira, being the strongest out of the three, could crush the other two in combat, so she allied herself with the Fire Tribe who shares the same brute philosophy. Katherine, being smarter than the other two put together, was the first one to choose allies since she knew she couldn't defeat Kira alone. Her cunning mind picked the Ice Tribe who shares her ambition and thirst for power. Finally Kern chose the Earth Tribe because—”
“Thank you, Hiccup, for giving us the resume no one asked for.” Merida interrupted, a wry smirk on her face, which earned her a frustrated grunt from Hiccup.
Across the room, Jack cursed under his breath as the nascent snowflake he was attempting to conjure dissolved into a fine mist. Elsa, ever observant, noticed immediately and approached him from the side. Jack jumped, startled, not having anticipated her sudden proximity.
“You’re using too much of your palm,” she said, her voice soft but authoritative. “Try focusing through one finger instead.”
Jack blinked several times, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “What? O—Oh. Right.”
He lifted one finger carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, and a tiny, perfect snowflake, shimmering with ethereal light, formed above it. Jack’s face lit up with childlike wonder, and Elsa offered him a small, approving smile before gracefully heading toward her sleeping chamber. He watched her go, a dreamy, almost wistful expression on his face, long after she had disappeared from sight.
Hiccup rolled his eyes with exasperation. “You know, someday you should tell her.”
Jack nearly dropped the delicate snowflake, which made Merida barked out a loud, uninhibited sound.
“You're not slick, Jack. Everyone knows.” Rapunzel said with a smirk, her golden hair shimmering under the lantern crystals. "Even Anna."
Anna nodded vigorously, then paused, a confused frown creasing her forehead. “Yeah… wait, what do you mean even I know?”
“You get this idiotic face whenever Elsa talks to you.” Rapunzel said, ignoring Anna’s question entirely.
“What face?” Jack looked horrified, his pale face flushing a deep red.
Merida squinted dramatically, mimicking Jack’s dreamy expression with an exaggerated pout. “Uh duh, ‘Elsa you’re so pretty.’”
Anna and Rapunzel erupted into gleeful laughter, thoroughly entertained by Merida’s terrible impersonation. Jack, mortified but also amused, grabbed a pillow and playfully hurled it at her.
Hiccup had been aware of Jack’s burgeoning feelings for Elsa for quite some time. The first undeniable hint had come when they were twelve; Elsa had valiantly stood up for Anna, who was being relentlessly targeted by Frank, their perpetually sour history and political tutor. As a consequence, Elsa had been subjected to a blindfolded training session with Dustin, returning to her chamber later that evening with painful bruises and angry burns. Hiccup had watched as Jack, without a word, had snuck into the kitchens and returned with a pilfered bar of chocolate. A silent, heartfelt attempt to cheer her up.
Suddenly, a resonant clearing of a throat echoed through the cavern, announcing Dustin’s presence. He stood in the entryway, a disapproving look in his eyes as he surveyed the playful scene.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour.” He stated flatly, then pointed a finger at Merida. “You. Training room. Now!”
Merida shrugged casually, a glint of defiance in her eyes, and stood. “Better than listening to Frost daydream over Elsa.”
“I do not daydream!” Jack yelled, a flash of indignation in his blue eyes.
Merida merely turned to him with a triumphant smirk as she followed Dustin out, disappearing into the shadowy corridor.
“What’s it like in the training room?” Anna asked as she watched them leave. Her eyes were wide with curiosity.
Anna, the smallest and youngest of the group, had never been allowed into the brutal training chamber. The trainers, in a rare display of something akin to humanity, were waiting for her to grow stronger. Hiccup felt a wave of relief at this, a small comfort that some shred of compassion remained within their harsh guardians.
“Awful.” Hiccup answered, the word a heavy weight.
He couldn't bear the thought of Anna, so small and bright, being subjected to Dustin’s scorching fireballs or Cooper’s unforgiving icicles. He vividly remembered the time Merida had returned from a session with Cooper, her ankle shattered, leaving her immobile for agonizing months.
“It’s fine if you do what you’re told.” Rapunzel said with a dismissive shrug.
"That’s rich coming from you.” Jack scoffed loudly, a sound of pure derision.
Rapunzel grinned mischievously, a wicked sparkle in her eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, a sudden clump of damp earth shot across the room, smacking Jack directly in the face.
He coughed violently, sputtering and rubbing his eyes, a stream of expletives under his breath. “RAPUNZEL!”
Ice burst into his hands, a protective, automatic response.
“Oh, you wanna go?” Rapunzel challenged, her voice dripping with playful menace.
The stone floor beneath her feet cracked and groaned as earthy tendrils began to swirl around her fingers. Simultaneously, a thick sheet of ice instantly coated the floor, freezing both of them in place. Their powers, overwhelmed by the sudden shock, flickered and vanished as Elsa rushed out of her sleep chamber.
Muffled voices drifted through the cracks—indistinct, urgent, and serious. Though the words were difficult to make out, the tone alone was enough to confirm something unusual was indeed happening.
“…arrives by morning…”
“…inspection…”
“I can’t hear.” Jack complained, his voice a low grumble. Elsa, without a word, pulled him closer, allowing him to share the precious listening space. Jack, acutely aware of her proximity, fought to suppress a blush that threatened to creep up his neck.
The trainers’ voices continued, now a little clearer. “Karka will want proof that these teenagers are worth the trouble for the prophecy.”
Anna looked utterly bewildered, her small face creased in confusion. “Karka? Prophecy?”
Elsa’s gaze immediately flicked to Hiccup, her blue eyes piercing. “You read all the books on this mountain. Ever heard of Karka?”
Hiccup shook his head slowly, a furrow in his brow. His memory was famously sharp; if he had read such a name, he would certainly remember it.
“If the teenagers fail this inspection, we’ll all pay the price.” Frank’s voice, usually so clipped and authoritarian, held a distinct tremor of worry.
“Then make sure they behave. At all costs.” Cooper answered, his tone as cold and hard as the ice he wielded.
A heavy silence descended upon the small room. No one moved, their gazes locked on each other, a shared sense of unease settling over them. They didn’t understand the cryptic words, but the weight of them was undeniable. A person named Karka was coming, and that alone was monumental – it would be the first outsider they had ever seen. Even Rapunzel, usually unflappable, looked visibly unsettled.
“I don’t like this.” Anna said, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, a shiver running down her spine. Hiccup instinctively reached out, pulling her into a comforting embrace, just as an older brother would.
Jack tried to inject a note of confidence into his voice, though it wavered slightly. “Maybe it’s not as bad as we think. Right, Elsa?”
Elsa offered no answer, her gaze fixed on the ancient stone wall, her expression unreadable.
Something about this entire situation, the hushed voices and the chilling pronouncements, made the hairs on the back of their necks prickle with foreboding. Hiccup, though still grasping at straws for understanding, knew one thing with absolute, undeniable certainty. Things were about to change… greatly.