The sequence of events began with a violent seaquake jarring the depths of the North Sea. The immense tremors reverberated through the coastal region, rattling homes and unsettling the very foundation of Berk's stronghold. This geological upheaval unleashed a torrent of unexpected tidal waves that twisted and turned the currents around the island, raising alarms among the villagers who had long relied on the sea for their livelihood.
As the resilient inhabitants of Berk began to grapple with the aftermath of the seaquake, they were struck not only by the visible devastation etched upon their familiar landscape but also by an eerie stillness that enveloped the ocean. The days that followed were dominated by the ominous gathering of dark clouds on the horizon, a clear harbinger of the tempest brewing—a heavy storm that seemed to be fed by the upheaval raging beneath the waves.
"At Berk who we are is Etched into the every wall, joist and beam, from the foundation to the rooftops. Vikings by nature, are a solid, practical bunch. We believe first and foremost what we can see and touch. But we also take heed of the stories passed down through the generations. Even taller ones..."
Standing steadfast at the entrance of the Greathall, the grand door is adorned with intricate carvings that weave a tapestry of their storied past—heroes, voyages, and battles immortalized in wood. In front of this venerable structure, a throng of Vikings had gathered, their skeptical gazes fixed on Mildew, who seemed undeterred by their disbelief.
"Mark my words!" Mildew bellowed, an erratic energy sparking in his voice as he gestured wildly towards the churning sea. "The signs and portents are as plain as the warts on my face! This is how the world ends!" His fervent declaration hung in the air, stirring murmurs among the crowd.
"But sometimes you never know where myths end and the truth begins,"
"The sea shall rise," he warned, with his eyes alight with dread. "And the Midgard serpent shall consume the seven kingdoms, heralding Ragnarök!"
Amid the gathering, Stoick shook his head with a bemused expression, exchanging glances with Hela and Gobber. "The end of the world or listening to Mildew," he mused aloud, "It's a choice that doesn't present much of a dilemma."
"Ah, you shouldn't joke about such things, Stoick," Gobber interjected, a note of seriousness creeping into his tone. "The gods have a way of not seeing the funny side of things."
"Are you really buying into this Ragnarök nonsense?" Hela queried, skepticism etched across her brow.
"Well, you must admit there's been some strange goings-on," Gobber replied, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. "First the seaquake, then the whirlpool, and now the tidal surges."
Hela's expression darkened. "You might be onto something. The dragons have been unusually restless since the quake. I initially thought it was just due to the approaching storm, but now I'm not so sure."
"See!" Gobber exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Even my porridge tasted off this morning!"
Stoick's brow furrowed as he contemplated the situation. "You're right," he acknowledged, turning away with determination. "I need to do something…"
"About my porridge?" Gobber said, astonished.
"About our ships!" Stoick's voice took on a commanding tone. "I'm calling them in, now. It's not safe out there. They will remain anchored until further notice."
Just then, Troels landed gracefully beside Hela, his presence catching her attention. "How is our guest Changewing, the one we rescued last week?" he asked, his expression curious.
"He's doing just fine, though your brother keeps trying to train him," Troels replied, amusement evident in his voice.
Hela let out a resigned sigh, "He's at the arena, isn't he?"
"Yep, him and all the others," Troels confirmed. Without hesitation, Hela mounted Troels, feeling the familiar rush of wind as they took off into the sky.
~~~~
At the bustling arena, Hiccup stood resolutely in front of a large cage that had been transformed into sleeping pens for the various dragons under their care.
"Let's hope our guest is feeling a bit more agreeable this morning," Hiccup remarked with a touch of apprehension as he grasped the handle to the Changewing's pen and gently pulled open the heavy door.
The Changewing, blinked its large, luminous eyes open and immediately focused on Hiccup. With a deep, annoyed groan, it shifted uncomfortably, its body contracting in a display of irritation. Astrid, perched nearby on a wooden crate while sharpening her trusty axe, couldn't help but chuckle at the dragon's dramatic demeanor.
"You know this isn't going to end well, right?" Astrid warned, her tone light, but Hiccup remained undeterred by her words.
"Come on, girl… There's nothing to be afraid of here. Just a big, happy family," he coaxed gently, attempting to bridge the gap between dragon and human. As if in response, the Changewing emitted a warning shot of green acid, splattering a few feet away from Hiccup with a sizzle. "Guess you got out of the wrong side of the straw mat this morning, huh?" he joked, trying to diffuse the intense moment.
Tentatively, the Changewing stepped out of its pen, its movements slow and cautious, as it surveyed its surroundings for any threats.
"Ah, there you are," Hiccup encouraged, his voice warm and inviting. "Don't be shy now. Come on out."
From his spot nearby, Fishlegs chimed in with the facts, clearly excited yet anxious. "Changewing. Habitat: Rainforest. Special talent: Camouflage. Danger level: high," he recited, his face a mixture of admiration and fear.
Toothless, Hiccup's loyal Night Fury, let out a low, protective growl while positioning himself closely to Hiccup, watching the Changewing with wariness.
"Play nice, Toothless," Hiccup said with a chuckle, patting his companion's head to reassure him.
"Tell me again why we're trying to train a Changewing?" Dawn asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced between Hiccup and the dragon.
"Just think about it! They can blend into the night sky like true shadows. It'd be like having a mystery dragon that no one could see coming until it's too late," Hiccup explained, his eyes shining with excitement as he turned to make eye contact with the Changewing. He slowly extended his hand, palm open, as if to invite the creature closer. "That's it, good girl. We're going to be friends. The best…."
As their eyes connected, the Changewing's eyes began to shimmer, flashing in an array of hypnotic colors that seemed to swirl and dance around Hiccup's gaze. Momentarily entranced, his expression became vacant, and he began to walk away, his steps slow and unsteady.
"Here we go again," Snotlout said with a playful grin, clearly amused as he and the rest observed Hiccup's trance-like state while he moved further away from the arena.
"Better stop him before he gets too far," Fishlegs urged, concern written across his face. "Last time he was hypnotized, we found him nesting on the rafters of the Great Hall."
"My favorite was when he kissed Tuffnut," Ruffnut interjected with a laugh, reminiscing. "I dined out on that story for a week!" The group erupted into laughter at the memory.
High above, Hela watched the commotion unfold. Spotting Dawn sprinting after Hiccup, she sighed in mild exasperation before gracefully landing Troels in the arena. "What happened to the no hypnotizing rule while you're here?" she called out, her voice firm yet tinged with amusement.
"He was being annoying and kept calling me a girl. I felt offended," the Changewing replied, its tone half-hearted and defiant.
With an eye roll, Hela responded, "Just get back in the pen," urging the dragon back into the safety of its enclosure, all the while shaking her head at the amusing chaos unfolding around her.
~~~~
In the midst of a tempestuous sea, an Outcast ship battled the towering waves as it approached the rugged shores of Berk. The sky was darkened by ominous storm clouds, and the salty spray of the ocean threatened to engulf the vessel entirely.
"Alvin, for the love of Frigga, we have to turn back!" Savage bellowed, gripping the rail with white-knuckled hands as another monstrous wave crashed against the side of the ship, sending a shudder through the wood.
"And miss an opportunity like this, Savage? Never!" Alvin replied fiercely, his eyes glinting with determination. He leaned over the side, his gaze fixed on the turbulent waters. "That seaquake was a godsend! Stoick is bound to recall all his patrol ships, leaving his shores unguarded and Berk ripe for conquest. He who dares, Savage—fills his boots with spoils of war!"
With their hearts pounding and adrenaline coursing through their veins, they docked the ship and hurriedly boarded three smaller landing boats tethered to the main craft.
"Right, release the cables and push off!" Alvin commanded, his voice cutting through the wind.
"I don't like this, Alvin," Savage replied uneasily, casting a wary glance at the unsettled sea around them. "I've spent more years at sea than I've spent on land, and something feels off."
"Spare me your superstitions," Alvin dismissed with a wave of his hand, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smirk. "I believe in exactly three things: Me, Myself, and I. The rest is just meaningless claptrap."
Suddenly, without warning, one of the three boats was violently hurled into the air, the crew's terrified screams echoing in the chaos as they plummeted into the churning sea below. Alvin turned around in shock just as the second boat met a similar fate, sent spiraling into the stormy skies.
"Row! Get us out of here! Hurry!" Alvin shouted, urgency lacing his voice.
"Too late!" Savage countered, his eyes wide with dread as he pointed to a massive, shadowy shape looming beneath the surface, swiftly approaching them. "Abandon ship!"
With fear gripping their hearts, they leaped into the merciless sea just moments before the titanic creature collided with their boat, obliterating it in a spray of splintered wood and chaos. Fortunately, they were close enough to shore that they could muster the strength to swim toward safety.
As they emerged from the water, gasping for breath, Savage looked back at the wreckage and asked, "What now? It's too shallow for the warship to land, and that... whatever it was, accounted for all our landing boats."
Alvin, determination etched into his features, replied, "We press on for Berk itself."
"But we? We're in no fit shape to fight," Savage reminded him, the weight of their losses heavy in his voice. "Most of our weapons went down with the boats."
"I have a feeling Berk will soon have a much bigger fish to fry," Alvin said, his expression unwavering. "And that's when we strike."
~~~~
Hela stood confidently at one end of the arena, her glimmering sword gripped tightly in her hand. The blade sparkled as the sunlight caught its edges, casting dancing reflections on the ground. Across from her, Astrid balanced her trusty axe in a stance that was both casual and formidable, exuding an air of confidence that spoke volumes about her combat prowess.
With a playful grin spreading across her face, Astrid stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ready to get schooled, my love? I hope you brought your A-game—or whatever it is you call that lame sword fighting of yours." Her voice was laced with teasing challenge, and the banter was as natural to them as breathing.
Hela chuckled, amusement dancing in her eyes as she replied, "Oh please, darling. If I'm not mistaken, your axe has seen more polishing than it has seen actual combat lately. Is that because you prefer the company of your beloved Stormfly rather than the thrill of a sparring match?" The playful jab hung in the air between them, both women knowing the underlying affection embedded in their banter.
With a shared glance of determination, each took their respective positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The anticipation mingled with familiarity, igniting the competitive spark that urged them forward.
The first clash echoed ominously through the arena, a resounding sound that signaled the beginning of their duel. Hela lunged forward, her sword slicing through the air with a graceful precision that blended beauty with lethal intent. But Astrid was quick on her feet, ducking low and spinning away with dexterity, her movements fluid and swift as she prepared to counter with a powerful swing of her axe. The sound of their weapons colliding produced a symphony of metal striking metal, punctuated by peals of laughter as they traded playful jabs amidst the flurry of combat.
"Nice try! But is that all you've got?" Astrid teased, her voice teasingly challenging as she weaved just out of Hela's striking range, a confident smirk playing on her lips.
"Not even close!" Hela shot back, determination lighting up her expression. She recovered from each strike with agility, her focus sharpened as she assessed Astrid's movements with an experienced eye.
As they danced around each other, the competition became increasingly charged—both physically and emotionally. Every jab and counter was met with quick-witted banter, infusing the air with a warmth that belied the intensity of their match. "You know, if I had a dragon, I might just fly away right now," Astrid quipped, narrowly dodging a strike aimed at her shoulder.
"Maybe you'd be better off wielding that axe than relying on your dragon, darling," Hela replied, a broad grin spreading across her face as they found themselves locked in another fierce bout, their weapons temporarily tangled together.
The playful exchange continued to fuel their enthusiasm, their laughter ringing out like a refreshing breeze that amplified the thrill of the fight. Around them, younger warriors watched in awe, captivated not just by the display of skill but also by the undeniable chemistry sizzling between the two combatants.
"Had enough yet?" Hela taunted, stepping back for a brief moment to catch her breath, all while intently gauging Astrid's reactions.
"Not even close—this is just getting good!" Astrid retorted, her eyes sparkling with competitive fire. She braced herself for another onslaught, the thrill of combat mixing with flirtation into a heady rush that enveloped them both.
Their sparring raged on, each woman unwilling to concede defeat easily, but it was Hela who began to gain the upper hand. She executed a series of clever maneuvers, expertly dancing just out of Astrid's striking range, always a heartbeat ahead of her. And just when Astrid believed she had Hela cornered, Hela twirled gracefully, landing a swift strike against Astrid's side.
Astrid stumbled back momentarily, shock widening her eyes as laughter bubbled from her lips, despite the realization that the duel had shifted in Hela's favor. "Okay, okay! You got me! What's your secret? That sword must be enchanted," she joked, the breath catching in her throat from both exertion and exhilaration.
With a triumphant flourish, Hela raised her sword high in victory. "Just hard work and a healthy dose of confidence—unlike some people I know," she replied, reveling in the playful challenge of the moment.
As the atmosphere in the arena began to settle, Astrid took a moment to absorb her defeat, her grin unwavering as she looked up at Hela. "Guess I'll have to practice while you're all out showing off. Maybe you can teach me some of those fancy moves over dinner," she suggested, a playful glint in her eyes as she winked at Hela.
Before Hela could respond, a sudden blare from a warning horn sliced through the air.
"To arms! To arms! It's... I don't know what it is, but it's—" The man's voice faltered as a massive purple dragon erupted from the depths of the ocean with a deafening roar.

"SKREEEEEHK!" the dragon's cry echoed, sending shivers down the spines of those within earshot.
"Really, really ticked off," the man finished lamely, eyes wide with shock.
---
Meanwhile, down in the village square, panic spread like wildfire among the gathered Vikings.
"Mildew was right. It is Ragnarök! The Midgard serpent has risen!" a frightened villager screamed, desperation evident in his voice.
"Actually, it looks more like a leviathan-class seashocker," Fishlegs piped up, his voice steady amid the chaos.
"A what—who?" someone asked, confusion etching their features.
"It's a purple death—very rare. Thought extinct, actually. Intact threat level off the scale," Fishlegs clarified, his technical knowledge cutting through the fear, giving a sense of urgency.
High above the tumult, Hela rode atop her dragon, Troels, confronting the mighty Purple Death.
"Woah, hey, what's got you so agitated?" Hela asked boldly as they hovered in front of the colossal dragon, determination infusing her voice.
Instead of answering, the Purple Death unleashed a torrent of flames towards them. Hela and Troels didn't even flinch, knowing well that such attacks would do little against their combined strength.
"Alright, maybe this will get your attention," Hela declared, placing her hand firmly on Troels's head, channeling her power through her bond with him. In response, Troels let out a resounding roar, and for a brief moment, the Purple Death's piercing eyes narrowed, as if entranced. Yet, just as quickly, the massive beast turned its attention towards them.
"Now then, why don't you tell me why you are attacking my people?" Hela demanded, her voice firm yet commanding.
"I am sorry, your Highness. I had assumed these humans had woken me from my slumber," the Purple Death explained, its deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
Hela exhaled, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as the tension eased slightly. "Then this has been a misunderstanding, for we had nothing to do with that. It was a seaquake that awakened you. Now, will you please return to your slumber peacefully?"
"As you wish, and again, I apologize for the misunderstanding, my queen," the Purple Death responded, its demeanor shifting as it began to retract, the earlier fury dissipating in the face of Hela's calm authority.
From a cliff Alvin and his men watched what transpired in shock.
"Signal the ship to retreat," Alvin says starring at Hela and her dragon.
"You heard the man retreat," Savage says as they head back.
"I'll get my chance another time," Alvin says before flopping his men.
~~~~
"Our histories and our battles. Real or embellished make us who we are. Legend or myth it's all the same to us."
At the Greathall doorway, a Viking is carving the events of today. A depiction of Hela standing on top of Troels her sword drawn, glowing and pointed at the Purple Death.
"But, here on Berk new myths and legends are made on a daily basis and for the benefit of future generations. We like to keep things bang up to date."